Sorry for the delay in getting to this... But now it's my number one priority so full steam ahead! Happy to have you along for the ride ;D
Inhaling sharply, she winced and reached up her hand to massage her neck – it was stiff and aching. The surface below her cheek was hard and cold: what had happened to her pillow? The cold was making her head pound and as she slowly tried to lift it she felt something inside it lilt to one side making her dizzy and slightly nauseous.
Lazily she rubbed her eyes, as she reached across to find her alarm clock. What time was it? Her hands fumbled, blind. Wait. Something felt wrong.
Prying one eye open the area in front of her slowly came into focus. Oh…
This was not her bed. This was not her room.
She sat up like a shot, snapping out of her tired fog instantly. She had fallen asleep at her desk.
Her eyes flashed to the clock across the room. Eight thirty. Eight thirty! How had she slept so long? As one hand scrambled for her glasses the other reached up to her cheek, pulling away a leaf of paper that had attached itself to her skin – a report on a Santa Monica wine fair; the type smudged and blurry. Scowling she tossed it back down onto the desk.
The newsroom was slowly beginning to fill. Thankfully, most people didn't arrive until after nine and her desk was partially hidden. Frantically she began to smooth out her clothing – her blouse was creased and had worked its way out of her skirt. Heart pounding, she unpicked the pins that held her heavy, uncooperative hair in place and tried to twist it into some semblance of normality.
How on earth had she fallen asleep at her desk! The last thing she remembered was that Miller guy, urgh, then typing one more story…
She began to calm herself as she realized that no one seemed to have noticed she had slept at her desk. In fact, no one seemed to have noticed her. No big surprise there then.
Reaching for her purse, she dipped her head and made a move for the restroom, skirting the edges of the room and avoiding eye contact with the handful of people already working. She reached the doorway into the small elevator atrium where the bathrooms were situated. Quietly, she slipped out, closing it carefully behind her.
Relieved, she let her eyes close – the tiredness of earlier resuming its assault. Maybe she was working too much? Sleeping in the office was a new low – even for her. Maybe this evening she would leave before it got dark outside…
"What a lovely surprise."
That voice.
Her eyes flashed open and instantly she groaned. Of all people, why was he the first one she saw this morning?
"Hello Mr. Miller," she replied flatly.
With a large smile, he removed his hat – this time grey felt – and tucked his hand in his pocket. "Nick, I insist."
"Nick," she echoed with a small smile and a nod.
He cleared his throat as they stood together in the empty atrium. She tucked her purse more tightly under her arm as she snuck a glance at him. He'd shaved since last night –he looked cleaner and, well, different. His brown suit had been replaced by a grey pinstripe with a crisp white shirt affixed at his neck by a navy blue tie. So, he didn't always look like he'd just stumbled out of a bar.
"Well, I was just on my way-"
"What's that on your face?" His eyes narrowed as he stepped a little closer and inspected her cheek. "It looks like…"
Panicked, she pulled her compact quickly out of her purse, tugging it open and peering at her reflection. When she saw the smudged, black print that coated one side of her face she blushed fiercely.
"Oh, um." She looked up and saw him begin to smile. He was going to laugh at her, the- "Goodbye!"
Pushing past him she ran for the restroom door, falling inside and dashing to the marble coated worktop. Frantically, she grabbed a towel and dampened it with cool water. She scrubbed her face until her skin was even redder than before-the towel becoming blackened with ink.
Looking up, she stared at herself in the mirror. She was a mess – between the raw skin on her cheek, her failed attempt at fixing her hair and the still rumpled clothing she looked ridiculous. She turned laid her back against the glossy white tiles that lined the wall. Way to go Day, you just looked like an idiot in front of the paper's star reporter. This day was not going well at all.
"Jessica, here are some pieces Schmidt wants you to work on for the commitments column."
Nadia was the editor's secretary. Very tall and very, very thin she spoke with a thick accent that Jessica had never been able to place. She accepted the brown folder with a smile.
"Thanks Nadia."
She expected the other woman to move away quickly, instead she paused and perched herself on the edge of the desk, looking across the room with an intense stare.
"Um, can I help you?"
Nadia looked down, as though she had forgotten where she was. She gave a wry smile and leaned closer, whispering, "Just having a look at your new neighbor."
"What?" Jess furrowed her brow and stood, looking in the direction that Nadia was staring. Six feet away he sat. Him. Her tormentor. His feet, encased in polished black brogues were perched on his desk and he lay sprawled out, his back to the two women. In his hand he clutched a phone as he talked animatedly. "What is he doing here?" she hissed as Nadia sat back down.
Nadia shrugged, "No idea. He just came into the office this morning and said he wanted a desk now – and you know Schmidt."
"Yeah," Jess scowled.
Footsteps announced someone approaching.
"We meet again, Miss Day."
"Yes we do, Nick." Jess rolled her eyes.
"I see you sorted out your little, um problem…" he gestured to her cheek and she turned pink once more.
"Yes, yes I did."
Nadia leaned forward in between the two and clutched onto his arm, cocking up her leg behind her as she did. "Mr. Miller, don't forget if you need anything, and I mean anything, you know who to ask."
He dug his finger into his collar, as if to loosen it a little.
"I'll be sure to remember that."
"You do," she replied with a wink as she walked away, swinging her hips and giving a lingering glance over her shoulder.
Jess cleared her throat. "Well, Nick, as you can see I am busy-" she gestured to the new stack of files in front of her.
"Oh, I hoped we could get a coffee, maybe I could apologize for last night. I'd had a few alcoholic beverages." He rested his hands on the desk where Nadia had just been sitting. She looked down at them, damn they were big… "I may have been a bit-"
"Of a jerk?" she interjected, dipping her head so she could see him over the top of her glasses.
"I was gonna go with brusque, but," he gave a little shrug, "The lady is always right."
She sighed heavily. Every word he spoke seemed to be laced with an undertone of innuendo.
"Look, Mr. Miller-"
"Nick."
"Whatever," she said with a shake of her hand, "I know men. More specifically, I know men like you. You may pull the wool over the eyes of every other woman in the metropolitan area, but you don't fool me for a second. You're wasting your time." She ran her hand along the round, metallic keyboard in front of her, "So like I said, I'm busy."
"Oh, please don't let me keep you from your important journalistic activities, neighbor."
For a second she thought she saw a flash of something playful pass his face but then it was gone and so was he.
Great, just great. Way to go with your big mouth Day.
She had a feeling this was not going to be her last interaction with Nick Miller.
It was getting close to six and she was determined that today she would not sleep at her desk. She was dreaming of a hot bath and soft cotton pajamas as she rolled another piece of crisp, white paper into the royal.
The newsroom was quiet. Only a few other staff remained – most having gone home to their families at five pm exactly. The thought of having a family to go home to made her stomach lurch and pine for home. Maybe one day, she silently told herself.
"Nick, I don't see the story here, a few girls go missing, it's LA! It happens all the time-"
She spun around to see the rotund shape of their editor, Schmidt, working his way across the newsroom, his buttons stretching across his large abdomen. Behind him walked Nick Miller, his tie undone and a stack of papers in his hand.
"I know this is a story Schmidt, I can feel it in my gut."
Schmidt paused and turned to face Nick. They were about ten feet from where Jess sat. She sunk down in her seat, as if to make herself invisible.
"I just don't see it Nick. I mean, if you can find out some more details-"
"I can do that. You know I have the best connections on the night scene in LA. Give me a few days, I'll get some firm evidence." Nick tossed the papers he was carrying onto a nearby desk, moving to pick up his own hat and jacket.
"Okay. But you have forty eight hours, and I need something firm! The Daily News does not print speculation."
Nick tipped his hat and turned to leave, "Trust me."
Schmidt sighed and shook his head, before continuing his slow walk to the exit.
When she was sure he was gone, Jess crept over to the desk where Nick had dropped the papers he was holding. Quickly she flipped through them.
There were missing persons reports: all girls in their twenties with attached photos of wide eyed beauties looking to make their mark on Hollywood. As she scanned the details they all seemed so similar – small town girls who had moved to Los Angeles to work in the movies, they'd all frequented the local bar scene and had been seen to be talking to older men. Within a few weeks, each one had vanished without a trace.
Jess felt her pulse began to quicken. This was it – her chance! An opportunity to be part of a real story. This was exactly the lead she had been looking for.
Now she had one small obstacle to overcome. Convincing Nick Miller to let her work on the case with him.
She winced as she remembered their earlier conversation. This may be more difficult than she had thought.
