Chapter 2 – Introducing Nick

My next chapter – for Nick Braddon, think Nicholas Brendon (Xander from Buffy). Yum.

The offices of CRN Network News were typically a highly charged workplace, buzzing with journalists, editors, researchers and fact checkers rushing to do their jobs to a tight deadline. But as the sound of cursing became closer and louder, the rushing people paused a moment in their frantic activity to watch Nicholas Braddon storm through the main newsroom towards the office of Cecilia Horne, chief editor and head honcho. The men in the newsroom quickly resumed their work, discarding the scene as more of the arrogant young hotshot's histrionics. The female workers tended to watch a little longer, especially lingering on the way Nick's Levis perfectly set off his rear view. They were not to blame - Nick Braddon had been setting female temperatures rising since he was thirteen. It was a handy talent, one he had no scruples about using when it came to getting his copy typed, his food order fast-tracked or chasing stories. Just his luck that the one woman who did not melt under the warmth of his "Aw shucks Ma'am" grin was his boss.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing," he yelled at Cecilia as he slammed her door behind him.

"Sit down, Nick," she said, not looking up from the article she was red-inking. Nick ignored her and walked angry circles before her desk, venting his anger. When his editor continued to ignore him, he finally collapsed into a chair with a sulky huff. Only then did Cecilia put down her pen to say "You seem upset, Nick."

"Gee, no getting anything past you, Horne," the irate young man ground out.

"I take it you got my memo?"

"Your memo? Which memo would that be? Not the one where you assign me to the beauty queen rookie to trail after her as her trained lapdog while she reports on every nauseating fluff piece in Chicago? Is that the memo, Cecilia?"

"Every action has consequences, Nick. You had to have known your story about media magnates running political stories to skew elections would have some fallout."

"Damn it, Cecilia. The Guardian ran those stories muckraking Ellison two days before the election. Only after the results came in for their favourite did they print a page 12 retraction admitting some of their facts may have been inaccurate. It was the duty of any responsible reporter to let the public know how they'd been gypped."

"I agree," Cecilia said with her usual unflappable calm. "And if you had presented your story to me through the proper channels, we would have found a way together to expose the situation. What I don't agree with," Cecilia continued, her voice hardening, "was setting up your reporter to accuse The Guardian's owner in one of Chicago's finest restaurants. On live television!"

Nick shrugged. "Reporting is all about opportunity, CeeCee. When you see Cole Jackson having lunch with our new Mayor's chief political advisor, you have to seize the day."

"Live?"

"Admit it, if I'd submitted it to you as a tape the higher ups would have buried it. Or if you ran with it against the pressure then your ass would be grass. This way you can put all the blame on my youthful high spirits. You should be thanking me and you know it!"

"Don't hold your breath, kid," Cecilia replied, gazing at the brooding young man before her, as always amazed by his sheer nerve. Any other reporter who tried a stunt like this would be cleaning out his desk 30 minutes after the story aired. But with Nick, it would be a criminal waste of talent to cut him loose. Plus every female in the office would want her head for banishing their eye candy. She had managed to convince Joe Talon, owner of the Network and golfing buddy of Cole Jackson, that it would be a more effective punishment to put Nick on fluff detail, the nickname for the feel-good filler pieces that networks push out to add some yeast to the heavy dough of real news. For a burning eyed idealist like Nick, there could be no worse punishment and Cecilia had been expecting fireworks.

"I won't do it, Horne. I'll quit before I'll churn out that kind of pap," Nick threatened.

"I think our legal department would have something to say to that. You've still got 2 years left on your contract. Plus you won't find another news job in Chicago – you know Talon and Jackson between them have every kind of media in this town sewn up." Taking pity on Nick's downhearted expression, Cecilia softened her tone. "Don't be stupid about this, Nick. Take your punishment like a good boy and when this has all blown over I'll put you back into the game."

Hot tempered Nick could be, but he knew when to fold his cards. Still, he didn't have to be graceful about it. "Fine. Whatever. But if this Wisconsin princess thinks she's the one calling the shots, she can just run back to whatever hick town you dug her out of. Make it clear to her that I'm the producer and chief camera – she's nothing but a pretty face that can read a teleprompter."

"So you think I'm pretty?" came a female voice behind him. Turning around he found an exquisite dark haired beauty, who's vapid opening comment was contradicted by the smouldering rage in her fine eyes – what were they, blue or green? Recovering his poise, Nick raked her form insolently from bottom up.

"Well, I wouldn't kick you out of my bed," he said after consideration. "But then I have been having a bit of a dry spell lately so my standards aren't too high."

"What a shame for you, Mr Braddon – mine are," bit out the pint sized girl. "And Point Place is not some hick town – it has been visited by the President himself! And Donny Osmond!"

"I stand corrected," Nick said, his sense of humour kicking in. "I apologise for any aspersions cast on your distinguished origins, princess. Although people who eavesdrop on private conversations shouldn't get too tetchy about the things they hear."

"Oh please! It's hardly eavesdropping when you didn't even take the trouble to close the door behind you properly. I could hear you from my office."

"Oh, I should have mentioned Nick," Cecilia chimed in, "you have to turn the handle when you close that door for it to shut properly." Nick's face reddened as he realised the entire office had witnessed his fury at and then submission to his punishment.

Muttering obscenities under his breath, Nick stormed out of the office with the same flair he had entered it.

"So that's my new co-worker?" Jackie asked, closing the door carefully. "Well, my life just keeps getting better and better."

"Oh, don't pay any attention to his bluster," Cecilia replied, waving Jackie to a seat. "He may not look it but he's the best story editor and producer we have at CRN – or will be once he learns to control himself. It's a stroke of luck for you to be assigned to him."

"Yes, I'm just feeling all kinds of lucky right now," said Jackie dryly.

"You should be. When you came back you said you wanted to put all your energy into learning this business and climbing to the top. Nick Braddon could do that for you."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. Like I said, he's very talented – top of his class at CU Journalism. You learn to rub him the right way, there's no knowing how far he could take you."

"I have no desire to rub anything about him!" (although the image of his ass striding angrily away from her did suddenly flash into her mind). "But I am serious about my career so I'll try to get along with him. But if that sexy pig thinks he's calling all the shots he'd better think twice!"

"Sexy pig?"

"What? No, I said sexist. I mean… I'll just be in my office."

Cecilia Horne tapped her red pen against her teeth musingly as Jackie hurriedly left her office. Well, I think this could lead to some entertaining developments.