Ch. 3
Journalism Never Prints Good News
A/N Wow! I definitely wasn't expecting that kind of response. I thank you all, my wonderful readers, and for those who have already read my other fic, Neverland, I have a message for you.
THE STORY IS NOT OVER YET!
None of you can believe how many reviews I have that say, 'oh thank you for a great story... I cried so much,' and so on and so forth. The story isn't over, and sorry if I'm being crude but some of you are going to get your butts handed to you, when you read it. Sorry. Anyway, its been awhile, according to my oh so helpful friend, since I have written for this story, so please be patient with my writing.
And for any newcomers, and old readers as well, I thoroughly encourage you all to read my other fics. Neverland, The Lady and the Pirate(Potc), Daughter of Thieves (potc),Two of a Kind(Secret Window), and of course this one. So, if its convenient, move your mouse (if you have one. If not, I sympathize with you wholeheartedly), or click the tab button, down to that special button reserved for reviews, and please(holds up hands together in apologetic eagerness), please review. Tell me your comments. I really enjoy reading what you think. R&R savvy? Oh and for each reviewer, you each get your own bottle of rum. I don't know about you, but that would make me jump to that button real quick. LOL
Drink up me hearties, and without further ado I give you...chapter 3.
Erin McKinley sat in her already shaped, from many years of wear, cerise leather chair, lined with golden gems, that were of no real commercial value, but presented the chair with the required etiquette for its original purpose. She sat up ramrod straight, due to her own extensive etiquette as a child, leaning over her oak desk, reading a particularly witty passage from a classic favorite of hers.
She pushed the connecting bridge with her index finger, as it began slipping slowly down her nose, due to their heavyset frame. Just as she was about to return to her pleasant reading after dealing with her notorious frames, she was interrupted spontaneously as her front bell chimed.
Sighing slightly, she raised out of her chair and scooted it back for exiting space; her chair protesting in acute anger.
Her cream muslin was loose and airy, and flowed behind her like a insufficient train, as she hurried toward the alien that lingered on her doorstep.
She opened the door to reveal, Denis Rochester, a wealthy noble and fellow journalist. But despite his golden tan, wavy blond hair, and royal blue eyes that accompanied a dazzling smile, that is meant just for the female species and their mundane technicalities to swoon in delight, he seemed as fictitious as his title. He was handsome enough, but she was, perhaps, more of the type that actually believed that a man should be able to concoct a sentence of original thought. Or at least keep her attention.
This man succeeded in neither.
Despite his suave words that are meant to charm a woman into foolish submission, Erin felt she had heard these same words, from other suitors. And she believed as she had then; she could come up with better. Or perhaps even write a book warning other wary women as well.
"Hello Miss McKinley," he drawled in that high society voice, that sounded as fake as the plastered smile on his face.
"I was expecting to find a young woman, but instead I seemed to have stumbled upon the graces of an angel."
Erin smile was strained, but convincing enough because his pliant one was unaltered. Then again, he was too ignorant and egotistical to even register her own feelings of discomfort and repulsion.
"Then maybe you should count your blessings," she said icily. She had meant it to offend him, but he laughed heartily in response. She scrunched her eyebrows in confusion; she had missed the joke.
"Oh, you are so witty and clever Erin. Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I ring your doorbell again." he said, trying to act debonair and suave.
Trying, but failing miserably.
That was the worst pickup line she had ever encountered, and trust me, she had her good, or should I say, bad share.
"No actually." she replied in all seriousness.
Now don't get her wrong. She believed their was such a thing as love, and that it existed between two people, or even more if that was the case. But she didn't believe that one glance could steal someone's breath away and then the strangers would be wed the very next morning, without even stringing two sentences together besides, "Will you marry me?", and "Yes."
It just wasn't logical. How would you expect yourself to live every waking moment with someone, if you didn't have a firm grasp on who they were, or overall, reality. Reality just didn't work like that.
Sure there were those marriages that were arranged so you had no say on who you married, and furthermore were legally stuck to them for life. But that doesn't mean you love them. Sure you could grow to love them, but you rarely hear of cases such as love at first sight, except only in fairy tales, and of course your own dreams.
So it was uncommon to find, that Erin did not suffer from the malady of a simple debutante that could be wooed by a stolen glance, a few flowery words, and maybe even a few baubles that would sum a king's ransom. She was much more authentic than that.
"You don't?" astonishment laced his voice, and his freshly shaped eyebrows raised in inquisition.
"I believe there is such thing as what would be referred to as 'soul mates'. Meaning that someone is destined for someone from the incarnation of birth, but as for it all happening in one magical moment, that is said to consist of up to two seconds...well...I don't see how that's possible."
Her words sent a comical image onto Denis' sharply chiseled face, as he observed how his simple insinuation, had developed into a minor coup d'etat from her part, as if she had suddenly manipulated him into saying something totally absurd.
He knew she would be a difficult catch, but he believed he could win her battle of wills as it were. He had watched his colleagues try to win her affections, taking notes to what displeased her and what made her laugh. And try as they might, all they managed was a polite smile with an even more polite refusal, and they were left in a dazed stupefaction, and all that gave him were what to say if he wanted a good smack.
But like all women, she would eventually fall into his charms. He was sure of it. Because he had in his power to take away what she loved in life.
Writing.
He was her manager, and even though he did not run the entire newspaper, he did control the a major part, including the part in which wrote her articles, of course using a pseudonym. And that meant he had the authority to fire her, if she didn't meet his expectations, as it were. And since she was woman in the society that exists of 1904, she had no right or power to argue his decision. So either way he got what he wanted. And Denis Rochester always got what he wanted...one way or the other.
"Well, Erin, I don't know about that, but what I do know is that it is extreme crude of you to have not even invite me into to your magnificent home."
It was magnificent. It contained everything a noble house for a young maiden should. Fine china and polished crystal, a grand staircase leading to an infinite amount of rooms that, for the majority, she had no real use for, and obediant servants.
But she wished one of those loyal servants would have been the lucky ones to have opened the door.
"I'm sorry but I actually have to go to park to meet someone." she lied lamely.
Well technically it wasn't a lie. More like stretching the truth really. She was going to the park, and perhaps would meet with someone. But she didn't have an inkling as to whom yet.
"Who?" he asked, and she sensed a twinge of jealousy edged in his voice.
"That's really none of your concern," she replied sweetly, but her mind right now was anything but reflecting sweetness.
"Well in that case," he reached for her hand to give her a flourished kiss, resembling proper custom. Being reluctantly polite, she allowed it, and once his moist, slimy lips touched her, she felt in the pit of her stomach her large breakfast of eggs and bacon this morning, become agitated and unsettle her to gross repulsion.
"I bid you ado, my fair mademoiselle. I hope your affairs turn out for the better. And I expect to see you Monday with that new report then?"
"Of course."
He left her there, and as she saw his form retreat and appreciatively gone in a manner of seconds, she began scraping vociferously at the back of her hand, whilst muttering in scorn,
"Just perfect. Now my nightmare is complete."
Thanks to
Erin: LUV YA LOTS LUV! Wow as I read that over, that looks a little weird. Not exactly Shakespeare but it'll do. Thanks for the review luv. And for those who are reading this, this is the woman I am basing this story. Not exactly a woman though. More like my best buddy. She inspired this story and for that she gets a bottle of rum, and a cookie. eats cookie> Oh well...
kungfuchick: I'm glad ye liked it mate. Review, savvy.
Dawnie-7: What can I say? I love that you are always the first one to review my stories. You have such lighting quick reflexs when it comes to that review button, I'm telling ya. And as for the fliritng comment, I'm glad you noticed that, because I'm trying to prevent a Mary-Sue from forming. Thanks luv as always.
H.M. Chandler: Congrats on the title. I thought someone would get it eventually. As for the name thing, I don't mind. I was just curious. And the relationship factor won't become that evident so keep your eyes peeled. Thanks luv as always
Meredith A. Jones: NAZIS! Sorry just had to bring that up. Thanks for the lovely review, and you really have no idea how happy it makes me to your name on my review list. And as for the hat, it is the same one. I remember sitting in the theatre and seeing the hat and going, "Nice hat," as well, and then some man yelled at me and told me to be quiet. Wow...I almost threw my popcorn at him. I guess Johnny Depp doesn't only drawn in the female crowd...but who could blame them, eh? ;). As always I hope you enjoyed this chapter and can't wait to hear from you. Cheers mate.