A/N: Another chapter up in less than a month! This one is a little shorter than the others, but after this one, things are going to start moving very quickly. In fact, there are only a few more chapters after this.

So without further ado, please enjoy, and I would love it if you dropped in a review :) And of course, thank you for the favorites and follows! It's nice to know you guys are still enjoying this. :)

Chapter Fourteen

Katie's POV

I had done it. I had finally done it. I had quit. And I was sitting here in my car, crying my eyes out.

It was too much, all too much. My head was still spinning from the turn of events. I had gone from having a job where I was making progress, moving up the reporting ladder, to having my assignment yanked away from me, to me literally dumping my coffee over my boss's head and walking out.

I didn't regret it, not in the least. But I was in a panic. I didn't have a job, I didn't have a reference, and I was so totally, utterly fucked that I couldn't even think about what to do next.

A long, curdling, guttural scream wrenched itself from my throat, ripping it raw, and another one burst out, and then another one, until my voice was hoarse and my sobs were nonexistent. Slowly, my head began to clear and I knew exactly what I needed to do.

I grabbed a tissue from the box in the backseat, and wiped my eyes and blew my nose. I grabbed my phone and called James. I knew he was at the theatre, but I was praying that he'd be taking a break or rehearsing lines or something.

He answered on the second ring. "What?" he asked, voice short.

"I did it," I said, my voice rough from crying. "I quit."

"You – what? Katie, I didn't mean for you to just up and quit! I – "

"I know, I know. It was Preston. He took the story away from me. He was giving it to another reporter who he wants to bang. So…I quit. I dumped my coffee over his head and walked out."

"You…Okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm – I don't know. I think so. I just…I got an e-mail from Clarissa Benton, the editor-in-chief at Show & Tell last night. She wants me to set up an interview with her via e-mail, but I need a job now. And I don't have her number. Do you think she'd meet with me today? Could you give me her number?"

"Come down to the theatre," James told me. "I'll call Clarissa and see what I can do for you."

"Thank you." I sniffled some more as we hung up, before starting the car and driving out of Maple Leaf Creek to Deprois. I found the theatre easily. James was waiting for me outside, phone in hand.

Once I had parked and joined him, he wrapped his arms around me. "For what it's worth, I'm proud of you. I know that couldn't have been easy."

"It wasn't really anything," I said honestly, leaning into his warmth. It was freezing ass cold out here. "I just sort of…snapped. I lost it. I lost control. He told me he was taking away the story, and I just couldn't take it anymore. He's pushed me around so much…" I looked up into James' face. "I couldn't let him do it again."

"I'm still proud of you."

"Why? It's not like what I did was brave. I did it out of anger."

"Because you finally let yourself lose control. Though I'm a little jealous. I thought I was the only one who could get you to throw liquids."

I let out a half sob, half laugh. "Don't worry. Today was just an exception. You'll be the only one who's head I'm dumping my coffee over from now on."

"Good. Come into the theatre." He led me into the lobby, talking all the while. "I called Clarissa and explained the situation. She's willing to meet with you at 11 today. You can wait in my dressing room until then."

"Thank you. You're amazing." I wiped at my eyes. "It seems like lately all you've been doing is rescuing me from my own stubbornness. You've been taking care of me and helping me out and fighting my battles for me."

"Yeah, well…" He gave me a small smile. "It's not like I don't owe you anything. You're the reason I have a place to live. You helped me get back on my feet with that job for your mom's catering business. I'll always be grateful for that. Getting you a better job is the least I can do."

I let out a small chuckle, and he brought me down the winding hall to his dressing room.

"The office for Show & Tell is literally just across the street," James told me. "Clarissa's office is on the second floor. Um…" He glanced at me. "You might want to clean up a little bit. Your makeup's pretty…smeared."

I looked over my shoulder in the vanity mirror. Smeared was being generous. My cheeks were streaked with my black mascara and eyeliner, and my eyes were red and puffy.

"Yeah, probably. I look like a cocaine addict."

James handed me some makeup wipes, and I pulled my makeup kit out of my purse. Once I was cleaned up and my eyeliner and mascara had been reapplied, I turned to James. "How do I look?"

He smiled. "Much better. How do you feel?"

"Nervous as hell. I need this job so badly."

"I know. But no matter what, we'll get it figured out."

"This is probably the most irresponsible thing I've ever done."

"In that case, you're doing way better than most people." He checked his watch. "It's almost 11. Come on, I'll walk you over there."

He led me back through the theatre and across the street to a rambling building. It looked rickety and lopsided, and not at all the kind of place I'd ever think to look for a job at. But I was desperate and right now I didn't have a choice.

We pushed through the single door into the front office. A girl, clearly a receptionist, looked up at us from behind a heavy desk piled high with papers.

"What can I do for you guys?" she asked with a friendly smile.

"I'm Katie Knight," I told her, my voice a little higher than normal. "I have an interview with Clarissa Benton at 11."

"Oh! I'll let Ms. Benton know you've arrived. Hey, James," she added to him with a little wave as she got on the phone.

"Hey, Mindy," he replied back.

"Ms. Benton?" Mindy spoke into the phone. "Katie Knight is here. Okay. Will do." She hung up and smiled at me. "Go on up to Ms. Benton's office. It's up the stairs and the first door on the left. Good luck!"

I looked up at James and he smiled down at me encouragingly. "Break a leg, little one."

I stared at the stairs just off the front office. With the way they twisted and narrowed, breaking a leg seemed very likely. Nevertheless, I climbed up to the second floor and reached Ms. Benton's office door. It was clearly marked, so there was no mistaking it.

With a deep breath, I knocked on the door politely.

"Come in," came a voice from inside, and I pushed the door open.

The room was small and cramped, painted in colors that had probably been popular in the '60s and '70s. A middle aged woman sat behind a huge desk, overflowing with papers, her computer, and a phone and a tablet. There were chairs stashed around the room, and in the corner was a small desk with an old fashioned typewriter perched on it. It was so very different from the sprawling, open aired layout of the Gates-Hills Chronicles office, but it was cozy in a vintage sort of way.

The woman looked up at me and smiled. She wasn't necessarily pretty, but she was striking. Her long dark hair was piled up on top of her head in a messy bun, and her nose was sharp and hawk like, but her eyes were warm and brown behind her purple cats eye glasses.

"Katie?"

"That would be me. Ms. Benton?"

"That would be me. Have a seat." She gestured to the overstuffed armchair that sat opposite her desk. I sank down into it, dropping my purse at my feet. "I must say, I was surprised to hear from James Diamond. I understand you asked him to call me on your behalf?"

"I was in a bit of a…panic," I admitted.

"You walked out of your old job?"

"It's a long story."

"I know your work, Katie. You're a damn good reporter. And you've been with the Gates-Hills Chronicles for awhile. May I ask what happened?"

"My boss was an arrogant jerk. I – when I first went to work at the Chronicles, I kind of got into a relationship with him. It didn't end well. He took it out on me. He gave me the worst and most boring stories he could think up. Last week he told me he was giving me a real story, a good one. I worked really hard on it, and I was going to turn it in today. But when I got to the office, he told me he was taking it away from me and giving it to one of the new reporters. I'd had enough. I walked out. I know how this sounds," I added, almost desperately. "I sound so irresponsible and emotional and weak. Dating my boss was an extremely stupid move, and I should have left the Chronicles a long time ago. I regret staying there for so long."

Ms. Benton tilted her head to the side, her glasses sliding down her nose. "What you should or shouldn't have done is not up for debate, Katie. As far as I'm concerned, you showed dedication and persistence with your job at the Chronicles, even though the circumstances were less than admirable. We value dedication and persistence, and we also value creativity. So, this isn't going to be like a normal interview. I'm going to send you back over to the theatre. You're going to watch one of their rehearsals, and then you'll come back here and write a thousand word critique of the rehearsal in the time frame of an hour. The subject matter is up to you. It could be about their performance, the stage effects, anything. And it doesn't have to be a negative critique. Just an honest one."

I stared at her. Holy shit. She had to be kidding. Why couldn't she just ask me what my goals were in the next five years like every other interviewer out there?

Ms. Benton smiled in amusement. "If you're not up for it…"

"No, I am." My competitive streak fired up, and I got to my feet. "I'll be back after the rehearsal."

"Good. Come on up when you come back. You can use my computer."

With a nod, I grabbed my bag and hurried back to the theatre. I sank down into one of the seats in front of the stage, and extracted one of my many notepads and pens from my bags, and poised it on my knee.

James glanced at me when he came out onto the stage, but didn't say anything. He seemed to understand this was part of the interview process. And just like that, rehearsal began.

I had been on my high school's newspaper staff, and I had reviewed my fair share of plays. But critiquing a rehearsal? That was unlike anything I had ever done before. But I scribbled down my notes, focused on the performance – or what there was of it – and an hour later I was back in Ms. Benton's office, on her computer, typing away.

I finished the critique with 10 minutes to spare, and did a quick reread and edit of it, finishing just as the timer she had set blared out.

Ms. Benton looked at me. "How did you do?"

I got up, gesturing to her computer. "See for yourself."

We switched places and she read through it, before rereading it again. At last, she looked up at me, smiling. "Very, very nice. Was it a struggle?"

"It was a challenge," I told her. "I'd never really done anything like that. It felt more abstract than everything else I've ever written. But it was kind of…fun."

"I like how you remained impartial, even though you're close with one of the actors. But you were also very respectful. And reading your critique makes me want to go see the performance when the musical opens."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Very, very nice job. So, will you accept the job? You would be reviewing theatrical performances in the surrounding areas, though I might occasionally send you to Duluth or the like to cover something. You'd be published both in print form and online."

"Yeah, I'll definitely accept the job."

"Then let's go over the benefits and the pay…"

We spent the next forty-five discussing the various aspects of the job, and by the time she walked me down to the front office, I felt as if I was floating on air. The benefits are actually pretty decent and the pay was even better than it had been at the Chronicles, despite the fact that this magazine was super liberal arts and not considered a "serious" publication by any means.

When I mentioned it, Ms. Benton shrugged. "We've been around for the last twenty years. We have a wide following. We can afford to actually pay our reporters and offer them benefits."

James was waiting for me in the front office, slumped in one of the plastic chairs. He looked up when we walked in and leapt to his feet. "Well?"

"I guess I'm going to be working across the street from you now," I told him, a wide smile breaking out across my face. "So I'll get to walk over to the theatre on my lunch break and bug the crap out of you."

He laughed and pulled me into a hug.

"You two are an adorable couple," Ms. Benton commented, leaning against the desk.

I broke away from James. "Oh, um, we're not dating."

"Aren't you two living together?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

"We're platonic roommates."

"Yeah, I sleep on an air mattress on her living room floor," James added.

Ms. Benton and Mindy exchanged amused looks.

"Uh huh. Okay," Ms. Benton said after a long moment, smirking slightly. "You two have fun with that. Katie, I'll see you here at 9 tomorrow morning."

I nodded eagerly, and shook her hand before allowing James to guide me out.

Once we were outside, boots crunching in the snow, James turned to me. "You're free. You're free of Preston and the Gates-Hills Chronicles. You did it."

"Thanks to you. Thank you so much, James. Thank you for telling Ms. Barton about me, and for encouraging me to apply, and for even setting up the interview for me. I think I'm the one who owes you now."

"Katie, you don't owe me anything. Don't ever think that."

I looked up at him, startled. Preston had thought I'd owed him something; he'd never stopped thinking that. Guys always thought girls owed them something. But James didn't. James had done this simply to…help me. Because he cared about me.

Impulsively, I stood on my tip toes and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," I whispered, before stepping back.

His hand lifted up to brush the spot where my lips had met his skin. "I'd do it again, in a heartbeat. I'd do anything for you, Katie. Anything."

And as I looked up at him, my gaze leveled with his, I knew it was true.

His phone beeped at that moment, and he pulled it out of his jeans pocket. "Ugh, it's the director. He wants me back in rehearsal."

"Why'd you leave rehearsal, anyway?"

"It was my lunch break," he shrugged. "I thought I'd come over and see how you did."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to."

"But – you didn't get any lunch?"

"I had a package of nuts from the vending machine."

I shook my head. "I'm fixing you dinner tonight. It's my turn to take care of you. You're getting steak and roasted potatoes and roasted vegetables."

"Fine. But no beets."

My lips twitched. "I wouldn't even think of it."