Tristan rose with the sunrise, as was to be expected. Rory woke at around 7, she had to go into work at nine. She came out of her bedroom, just as she woke up, to get some coffee. Tristan was dressed, and sitting on the couch, reading the Times. She sat on his lap, tossing the paper to the floor. "How dare you read a competitor's filthy newspaper." He laughed, and tickled her.

"It's amazing, that you just wake up beautiful," he said.

"Beautiful? My hair is ratty, I'm tired, I look like crap run over by a dump truck."

"Never."

"Sure." She poured herself a glass of coffee, which Tristan had made, expecting she would want some, and drinking a glass for himself.

"First day of a job in Manhattan. Wild."

"9 billionth day at a job in Manhattan that you always knew you would have. Crazy."

"Only nine billion, feels like so much more."

"Poor baby, making all that money. Lets have a pity party."

"Lets. I need it!"

They hugged, kissed, and she finally pulled away, knowing that she needed to get ready.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The cab dropped her off at the office, and she looked at it, almost apprehensively before opening the door and walking in. Suzanne, the receptionist, smiled warmly and welcomingly, "You must be Rory! So good to have you with us. I'm Suzanne."

Rory smiled and said, "Thanks. I'm a little bit confused about where I go, what I do, do you know who can help me?"

Suzanne smiled, her pretty figure and face staring back happily, "well I can show you where your office is, but I'm pretty sure that Bridget has a big meet and greet welcoming day ahead for you. Bridget and her husband are always all up in arms about the paper. She's always having meetings about fun stuff, being pals with all the writers, and he's wanting them to be writing. He's as nice as she is, but he says she interrupts the writers, and she says he interrupts the fun.

Rory smiled, she liked Suzanne.

Suzanne was a big gossip, and a big talker, and she said, "Have you met their daughter yet?"

Rory shook her head.

"Her name's Anna Jolene, but as pretty as that name is, everybody here calls her AJ. She's been working here since the paper started. She was about 6, and running errands, making copies. At 13, she started all editing people's stories, after spell checking and all that. The real editor never found one mistake. She's 19 now, never went to college or anything, but she's the grammar editor of the whole paper. "

Suzanne was about to keep talking, but somebody stopped her.

"Suzanne, darling, mother knew you would be chewing Miss Gilmore's ear off with your gossip. Thank god, you were bragging about your dearest godchild, not talking about somebody's affair in the paper closet or something."

It wasn't used like an insult, it was an affectionate comment, and Rory smiled at it.

"I'm Anna. I obviously don't look like an Anna, so you might as well call me AJ, go along with the crowd."

She didn't look like an Anna. She had dirty blonde hair pulled up into a tight ponytail, and there wasn't the slightest trace of make up on her face. She was skinny, which may have been her only feature that was like Bridget's. She looked like an athlete, but she was obviously not. She wore a gray turtleneck and black pants, and she was very plain.

Anna led her to the office where she had had her interview. Bridget was sitting at the desk. Bridget was beautiful, she didn't look the 39 years she was. She had a beautiful, slender figure, and jet black hair that fell in silky waves to her shouldars. Her wardrobe was a black dress, which ran to about 6 inches above her knees, the look was completed with heels.

"Rory! I am so excited to get you started at work!"

AJ looked at her mother, as if asking what she should do, "AJ, why don't you help Jaycee with her pollution article, I heard it's ready to be edited.

AJ smiled, smacked her gum, and left. Rory sat down.

"Today you'll meet your coworkers, and you'll pretty much be above them, but we don't think about it like that here. Mr. Big Head editor, Darien, my husband, will give you your pick of a few pieces, and hand the rest of them out. You'll probably have some say in it. You'll write, and at the end of the week, we'll pick up everybody's articles, and you'll help us get the layout."


"About how many people do you employ?"

"Writers, about 60. The "bosses" would be You, AJ, Darien,, and Me and we have a production team of about 10. We've got 4 photographers also, but they aren't full time. Oh, and of course our lovely receptionist, Suzanne."

"I met her."

"She's fantastic, isn't she? I went to high school with her. It's amazing the bond you can have just from walking the same halls."

"Amazing," Rory repeated.

Rory was led to her office, not huge, but the 4th largest in the place, with a wall of just windows, a high ceiling, and a feeling of wondrous power. She also met some of the writers.

Jaycee Donovan was Darien and Bridget's niece, an amazing writer, and a stubborn environmentalist. She work her curly hair in a cute bun, and jeans and a "Save the Rainforest" shirt were typical attire. She was cute, quick, and funny, and she wasn't at all snobby. She welcomed Rory to what she called "The Zoo," a little office, with pictures of animals and carpet covered in papers.

Lilac Stevens was once a dashing blonde, now was about 45 years old. She was called Grandma Purple, a cute nickname made by some of the younger writers, and she was very maternal. She was slightly heavyset, and had cute blonde hair. She wore long skirts and sweaters, and wrote whatever articles anybody threw at her. She was known for attacking issues, but fairly, a passive person.

Kestrel Donovan was Bridget's brother, Jaycee's father. He was about 50, and the "gentleman" of the office. He was polite and courteous, but also obnoxious and funny. He dressed in casual attire all the time, and was pretty lazy. His work, however, never suffered, and he wrote great sports articles.

Lucille King-James was a sweet, meek woman, about 30, who was quiet, passive, and terribly shy. She was quiet as a mouse, but was an excellent writer, writing great stories about whatever anybody could think to tell her to. She was very helpful in keeping the place organized.

Donny Matthews was a funny young man about 35, who was head of the production team. He was the guy who made sure every issue got out, the one who made sure the layout went through. He had an untarnished work ethic, and a charismatic style of doing things.

Rory loved the people she met, all of them. Bridget had a little party for her welcoming, and she met everybody and shared coffee and doughnuts. She felt like she fit in almost immediately, because the crowd was comfortable and nice. She loved it. She loved everything about the city.

Darien walked into the party a little bit late, and took the floor, "People, People. Were all thrilled to have Rory with us, obviously, but that doesn't mean we don't have to work. I'll have assignments ready in one hour, only delayed cause of this nice little party my wife put together.

Darien offered Rory her choice of two pieces, The story of the Security Guard who murdered three men, or covering the olympic-potential runner, who could be seen running through central park for 4 hours a day.

She chose the story of the runner, and took the phone number and address. She was instantaneously at work, and she felt so happy to be doing it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

She came home, about 20 minutes before Tristan did. She was collapsed on the couch, wearing shorts and one of his wife-beaters when he came in.

He came over and kissed her, and asked her how her day had been. After they exchanged discussion, he announced that he was taking her to a fancy restaurant to celebrate. As though in a dream, Rory changed, and they ate, talked, danced, and enjoyed themselves to no end. At 11, Rory grabbed his hand and told him they should get home, because she had a date with her pillow. They left, and kissed goodnight as they parted to different rooms.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she replied, with no hesitation.