Disclaimer: It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.
Author's Note: Bloody FF. Again I've been ready with this chapter for a while but the server wouldn't accept my upload. But finally, here it is!
Written June 29, 2006
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Chapter 6 – The Panic and the Prize
He came home even later the next day, and the whole evening became a silent test of wills, both of us fighting to pretend the other wasn't there. Alone in the bedroom again, I slept as badly as I had the night before. At work in the morning, I felt barely able to think. The front page mockup was open on my screen, but I couldn't focus on any of the text I was meant to be proofreading.
The phone rang and I reached out a hand to pluck it from its cradle. The screen showed it was Kate Shaffer, the freelancer I'd hired to do our cover story. I'd known her from my days at nucleus, and she was one of the best writers I'd ever read. I mustered up my energy and tried to sound halfway decent.
"Hi, Kate. How are you?"
"Hey, Gabi." Her voice was shaky. "I'm not so good, actually."
"Oh no," I said, trying to sound sympathetic. "What's going on?"
Then her voice came over the line again, fragile and soft. "It's my dad, Gabi. He… died this morning."
And suddenly, I heard her start to sob gently. I snapped awake, my heart leaping up in my chest. "Oh my God. Oh my God, Kate. I'm so sorry."
I could hear her blow her nose. "No," she said. "No, I'm sorry. I've got to get back to Boston for the funeral next week. So I won't… I won't be able to do the story for you." She was crying again. "Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Gabi."
"Kate, please, don't even think about the article right now," I said. "I'll take care of it. You just take care of yourself. Don't worry about a thing."
"I'm.. it's just…" She blew her nose again. "I've just never… missed a deadline. I don't want to start."
I gave a small laugh. "Kate. You have bigger things to worry about right now."
She laughed too, and then she started to cry again. Softly, she thanked me for my understanding, and I wished her the best again before she hung up.
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It was mid-afternoon when I realized what losing Kate meant. As I poured a cup of coffee at the kitchenette, it hit me that we were now a week and a half to print, with no feature story to anchor the issue. And the photos were even already done—the photographer had done them weeks ago, when we had finally locked it in as our top story.
Kate's piece was meant to be an interview with Marian Molitor, the driving force behind one of the hottest tech companies in the country. She had started with just an optimized Internet search engine, and now was spearheading research and business development in a sprawling number of science and tech sectors. I'd sweet-talked Marian's staff for weeks before I could finally get through to Marian herself, and she'd only agreed to participate because by some miracle, the future of science theme appealed to her. It was a huge coup—Marian rarely gave out interviews, though she was incredibly articulate and intelligent when she did. And now… we didn't have anything nearly as big to fill the gap.
I raced back to my desk, my heart speeding up. Okay. Okay. I could still save this. The interview was still lined up in New York in a couple of days. I just needed a writer. I pulled up my address book on the screen, got out my list of dependable freelancers, and started calling.
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Two hours and sixteen names later, I still had nothing. Gary Ullman was doing the Business 4.0 cover story this week. Marlene de Cava was already in France for the EuroTech trade show. George Hwang was getting married.
I looked around the office and suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe. The whole issue was dissolving in front of me, slipping through my fingers like sand. My eyes locked on Camille, sitting three cubicles in front of me, her head bent over an article she was reading. I couldn't stand thinking about what she would do if she knew what was happening. She would slink in and usurp the whole thing from me, relishing the chance to finally make me look like an idiot in front of everyone. See, she'd say, shouldn't you have hired me in the first place?
I needed a friendly face. Quickly I got up, heading to Anna's office. But though the light was on, she wasn't there.
A voice suddenly cut in. "She's at a shoot in Oregon."
I turned around. Camille sat at her cubicle with a mildly amused look on her face. "You knew that, right?" she asked. "She'll be gone till the end of the week."
"Yeah," I said, defensively. "I knew that."
"Well. You just looked a little confused." She chuckled, and I knew she had wanted to finish that sentence off with Like you always do.
I stared at her, feeling my contempt grow as she looked smugly back at me. Camille was slightly overweight, but wore ill-fitting clothes that often made her look twice as big. Thick, dirty blonde, curly hair sat on top of her round, fleshy face, and her brown eyes glittered at me, obviously enjoying the fact that I had been caught not knowing about my only friend in the place. I felt disgusted and angry and annoyed with her… and suddenly I realized she might be able to help.
"Camille," I said, my voice harsh. "Give me a list of the magazine's best freelancers. I need someone to do something for me, fast."
She raised an eyebrow at me, and before she could give me another snide remark, I snapped out again. "I need something special for the middle section. Bring the names by my desk as soon as you can."
I felt Camille's eyes boring into me, and I knew she was wondering what trouble I might be in. Then quickly I started moving, making a beeline for the elevator. A rising panic flooded through me, and I needed to get out of this building now.
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The park was just around the corner, a thick oval carpet of lush green lawn with trees lining its edges. It was enclosed by a ring of cheerfully old-fashioned three- and four-story buildings, once colourful but now faded under the California sun. The center of the park held a children's playground with a wooden fort, a metal slide, and swings. Benches and tables dotted the rest of the greenery.
At lunch there would usually be dozens of people here, but in the middle of the afternoon, it was practically abandoned. I walked straight into the playground and sat in one of the soft rubber swings, trying to calm myself down. That stupid, stupid magazine. And stupid, stupid Camille.
My heart racing, I wished desperately for a shoulder to lean on. Under normal circumstances, it would have been Troy, but now I could only think of Anna. It suddenly occurred to me that besides her, I didn't have a whole lot of friends of my own in San Francisco. When I had moved here, I was ported straight into Troy's social circle, so everyone I knew already knew him—and liked him—first. So… there was no one on my side here. No one to turn to, no one to call.
And something in me crumpled as I realized that almost nothing here was truly my own. Our apartment was still in his name. I'd even gotten my job through his connections. Lowering my head, I almost started to cry. How on earth did I lose myself so completely in another person?
Rubbing my eyes with my fists, I realized how much I'd let myself disappear. Before Troy, I might have been searching for a career, but I had never leaned on anyone, always steering my own path through the ups and downs. But with Troy, I realized he had become the axis that my world rotated on, the starting point for all my decisions, and the rock I leaned on heavily whenever I needed help. It had felt so right at the time, but now I felt like I had traded control of my whole life for a hollow set of prizes: a loss of identity and confidence, and a band of gold on my left hand.
Looking down at the ring, I suddenly pulled it off roughly. Strength surged through me as I remembered how I had made it through worse times alone before, and I knew I could do it again. Shoving the ring into my pocket, I headed back to the office. On my desk, Camille had left a list of ten names. I picked up the phone, and started to dial.
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Author's Note: Dearest readers: you're fantastic. We've doubled the number of reviews from 6 to 12 for the last chapter—and you guys have come through with some wonderful, literate comments that have been such a pleasure to read. Makes me kind of want to write M-rated fiction forever, if this is what I get :) Okay, so let loose: tell me all about what you think of this chapter!
