A/N: So in case you are still wondering this is an AH/OOC story and the M rating definitely indicates the lemony tendencies. Anyway despite the rating, this really is a story with a plot and it will take me a few chapters to get you all up to speed. If you stick with me it will pay off. **Grins**
Thank you for all of you taking the time to read my story. You are all fabulous.
BPOV
I pointed the fingers on my hand like a gun to my temple and pulled the trigger as I listened to my friend Angela tell me what a dumb shit I was. She still had a couple of hours of work left in her day, but that was part of the charmed life of a news editor. Fortunately for me, she was on the phone hundreds of miles away; otherwise my sarcastic gesture would have landed me a swat upside the head.
"Bravo Bella–talk about stepping out of the frying pan and into the fire," Angela said with a wry tone. I could always count on my closest friend and former boss to call it like she saw it.
"I just wish I had known more of the newspaper's back story before now," I relayed. "I guess his wife, Jane Volturi, ran for city council, and the Seattle Enterprise refused to endorse her. Aro tried to buy the Enterprise off and this Carlisle Cullen guy–the publisher and part owner of the media conglomerate went ballistic. He called Aro out on the editorial page and sent accusations flying regarding her likelihood of using dirty political tricks and her husband's high-powered influence. Aro did a few interviews for TV and radio. I guess Aro denied throwing his weight around, but in private emails vowed to get Carlisle back. Apparently that is where I come in."
My co-worker, Rose, filled me in on the details over lunch on Wednesday. She didn't strike me as a gossip but I got the distinct impression she was conflicted and speculated on her own pawn status in Aro's game of world domination.
"You're such a drama queen, Bells. You mean, 'that is where the King County Reporter came in." I could almost hear Angela rolling her eyes. "Wow, that's a pretty bold move for the newspaper, if this Aro guy is so influential. So, that's why he decided to bankroll a newspaper in the backyard of the Enterprise? It's just too bizarre to be true. Hasn't he heard that newspapers are struggling to stay afloat right now?"
"From what my colleague says, I don't think the owner even cares," I said, recalling my conversation with Rose. "She thinks all he cares about is settling a score. And so far, I've got to hand it to him; he is hitting the Enterprise where it hurts."
"Hmm. So where does the King County Reporter stand now? How many staff do you have covering the region?" she asked.
"Not a ton. I guess there are about 23 reporters and editors in the newsroom. Still, that's seven more reporters than the competition. There are also quite a few stringers on retainer that cover the outlying communities pretty well. Honestly though, this isn't where the Reporter is winning. We have these amazing designers making our pages look almost like magazine layouts. We also use this fancy grade newsprint that make our pictures pop. Apparently, we are undercutting the competition by leaps and bounds in terms of ad space and stealing subscriber's right out from under their noses."
"Huh. So, your boss' expenses are off the charts. Who does that kind of stuff?" Angela mused. "What about your content? I mean, do the stories compete?"
"From what I've seen in my cursory review, no. We have a couple of pit bull reporters that are relatively experienced and can give as good as they get, but the Enterprise scoops us on something important almost daily," I said, begrudgingly. "Regardless, the public loves us. Evidently it is company policy to have one happy fluff piece on the front page every day, and we have to let every organization and soccer team in town run their press releases on the news pages and lifestyle section. It's like a free for all and none of the submissions have to meet solid news value requirements!"
I heard myself losing the control that I had so perfectly maintained throughout the day at work. I hope Angela didn't notice my frayed nerves begin to seep through.
"So, how does this translate into your business page?" Angela asked, sounding worried for me. "I mean, I shudder to think about how these touchy-feely rules are going to affect you."
"Reading between the lines in my conversation with Aro earlier this week, I think he is relying on me to win over the last demographic contingent that has held fast for the Enterprise. Clearly Carlisle Cullen is very respected in the business community. Even with his deep pockets, Aro can't seem to win compete."
Angela started catching my drift. "Right, and where there are businesses, there are ad dollars, and the resulting financial influence."
"Exactly! How am I ever going to get businesses to trust me enough to give me a good story with this type of cloud hanging over the paper?"
"I don't know Bells," Angela said quietly. "But you have too much riding on this to give up now. Rather than get bogged down in the money show and the big boy pissing contest, I would just try and stay focused on doing a good job."
"Yeah, I just don't know if I can under these circumstances. Aro's secretary already forwarded me a list of possible story ideas, and I have a sneaking suspicion that I am required to follow up on at least a couple of them. I have been able to slide by with the story assignments from my editor, Marcus, for now, but I'm not sure how long I'll be able to hold out."
"This sucks, Bella. At least if you were loving life and enjoying that fat paycheck you're getting, then I could forgive you for leaving me without my best reporter. Now, I guess I'm just going to have to be pissed at you."
"Oh, har-har. If I was so good, you would have paid me enough to stay," I said snarkily.
"Ha! I can't even pay me enough to stay at this point. If it weren't for Ben, I wouldn't be able to afford our rent and the parking bill. I honestly don't know how you did it for as long as you did, with the salary freeze last year."
"Don't remind me. I still have the credit card bills to show for it."
"Have you looked up Emmett, yet?" she asked.
I smiled to myself thinking of my old friend. I forgot momentarily that I had a buddy in Seattle who could help me make life a lot less boring.
"Not yet. Since he works for the 'other' paper, I wanted to get my bearings before I have to listen to his shit about my new employer. 'Sides it's been a while since we talked, and I've been so busy with the move and all. . ." I leaned back on my pillows and tried to avoid looking at the open bedroom closet jammed with boxes.
Emmett McCarty was the sports editor of our high school newspaper in Forks, Washington. He went to Washington State University and I moved to San Francisco for school. Emmett was one of the main reasons I returned to Washington. I had no interest in moving from artsy and eclectic San Francisco to Southern California. At least in Washington I had Charlie, and could spend more time with my oldest friend, Emmett.
"You know, you two never hooked up. Maybe you should test the waters?" she said laughing.
I snorted at that. "Ewww. I've known him like, half my life. He feels more like a big brother than a potential date," I said, trying to scrub the errant thoughts of his muscled torso from my head.
"Who said anything about dating? I was thinking more along the lines of friends with benefits. I mean, how fucking long has it been since your nether regions felt a little love?" Angela said. I imagined that she was wiggling her eyebrows at me over the phone.
"Yeah, well in case you haven't noticed, complicated ain't my bag," I groaned at the unpleasant reminder.
"Alright, I gotta get through these stories that are piling up before we go to press tomorrow. Oh, ah. . . I almost forgot to tell you. Mike came by looking for your new phone number and address," Angela said, sounding like she was bracing for my negative reaction. "Don't worry, I didn't tell him anything. Just figured I would pass along the message. . ."
God, I wish he'd just leave me the fuck alone already.
"Yeah, well, I guess that doesn't surprise me. He's got Charlie's number if he really needed to get in contact with me. I'm not ready to go there just yet," I said.
"Ughhh, Jesus, Bella," she said. "If you put it off much longer, you are going to be worrying about a whole lot more than a crackpot publisher and a stack of credit card bills."
"Okay, I think that's my cue, Ang. I'll give you a call this weekend. Give Ben a squeeze for me," I said.
"Just think about it. We ran a story a few months ago and I got the name of a good lawyer. . ."
"I already miss you and your meddling ways, but I will deal with this in my own way, all right?"
"Miss you too, Bells; I'll talk to you later."
I hung up the cell phone and threw myself back on my bed. The beginning of a nagging headache was playing around my temples and convinced me that I should just stop thinking and try to get some sleep. Aro, Marcus, and I were attending the Greater Seattle Chamber of Commerce annual dinner tomorrow night, and calling Angela was suppose to help me relieve my apprehension. Now, the "dress-up Bella Barbie" pimp show felt more like a welcome diversion from reality than the normal torture it was.
Well, I guess that's one way to look on the bright side, I thought, trying to let go of the anger bubbling up inside of me. Mike threw away what he and I had years ago. Every once in a while he came around to remind me that he still has some power over me. Never again would I let myself slip into his trap.
I'll surprise Emmett tomorrow on my break. That will get my mind off of things.
-0-
The perfection that was my slumber was all of a sudden filled with angry images of red, white and blue.
"Born in the U.S.A, I was boooorn in the U.S.A," bellowed through the poorly positioned speakers–not three inches from my head.
Fuck. Note to self: program a new radio station into my alarm clock, because this is no way to start the fucking day.
I practically killed the alarm in my haste to get "The Boss" out of my brain. I was still grumbling a few minutes later when I opened my eyes and pulled my ass up out of bed. There was some sun streaming in the window, but I was disappointed when I got out of bed and noticed it was still mostly cloudy outside. At least I wouldn't have to worry about frizzy hair from morning drizzle. Today was an important day. The way Marcus and Aro were acting, it was starting to feel more like the outing of a debutante than the introduction of a new business writer. However, I had every intention of keeping the evening professional, and I was looking forward to showing my City Editor, Marcus, exactly how I roll. I just hoped that Aro would allow me the freedom to do that.
I snapped out of my reverie and hopped into the shower. I took a few extra minutes to shave my legs and used some hair treatment to get the extra shine I needed to boost my confidence today. Before I left San Francisco, I did a little shopping for my new job and bought a suit that I was excited to wear.
A little lingerie underneath always helped my confidence level, and I fully intended to pull out the big guns today. My Le Mystere black and pink boy shorts and matching lace push up bra were exactly what the doctor ordered. Le Mystere's Sophie line was understated and sexy, and that was the look I was going for; even if no one saw it. I did a twirl in the mirror and wondered what Emmett would think of how I looked now. At a size 10, I'm a far cry from the 6 I was in high school. I knew I had had some flaws, but I've come to love my full breasts and curvy hips. My stomach was still flat, my butt was round and my thighs were muscular; thanks to the stairs and hills of San Francisco and its ridiculous lack of parking. After one backward glance into my full length mirror I gave myself a wicked grin. Today was going to be a good day.
I put on my stockings and an off-white camisole and took my black suit out of the closet. The snug fitting, two button jacket and low-rise pants emphasized my assets. The lace band of my cami poked out at the bottom and kept everything covered, but if you looked carefully, you could see a little flesh peaking through the lace. It was a little reminder that kept me grounded. Even though business and news were considered a man's world, I was still a woman who wasn't afraid of being tough and feminine at the same time. As I grabbed my red heels, I thought about what Marcus would think when he saw me today. When I decided what to wear today, I knew he was hoping I would wear some flouncy dress or skirt that would have the men drooling. However, five years for The Gate Business Journal taught me a few things about events like this.
First, where alcohol was involved, little work was actually done. Either everyone was too drunk to remember what they said the next the morning or too embarrassed to admit they said it. Secondly, where there were annual dinners; there were wives, and wives were helpful in reminding husbands what they said and with whom they spoke the night before. Wives also preferred women who were professional and didn't draw too much attention.
I put a few large curls in my hair and finished with some light brown eye shadow and mascara. Makeup was kind of a new thing for me, but covering business in the city, I learned that I had to look the part. I grew more comfortable with makeup over time and this morning I even added a bit of pink lip gloss for good measure.
I grabbed my bag and walked toward the door when I noticed the room filled with boxes at the end of the hallway. A stab of guilt and longing reminded me that today wasn't about just impressing the boss. I had bigger things at stake and no choice except to suck it up and play my part. It also reminded me that I only had until tomorrow to get the room whipped into shape.
-0-
On the way to work, I texted Emmett and asked him to meet me afterward at Gas Works Park. I would have a few hours to kill once I was off deadline, and since he was covering weekend sports, Em should have the night off. I figured I could surprise him with some sandwiches from the deli that was around the corner from my building. The dinner wasn't until 7 p.m. and I rarely ate at these types of events. On the off chance the food was good, I would fit a few bites in between conversations and mingling. More often than not, I was too distracted to eat. Instead, I concentrated on not talking with my mouth full and avoided getting food dropped down my shirt or in my teeth.
Once I got to the office, I figured out that my main story would be Boeing's Union contract negotiations. Lots of union members were calling in with anonymous gripes about how long it had been since they received a cost of living increase and complained of the move to cut back the medical benefits plan. Of course, the only people willing to go on the record were either past employees with an ax to grind or Union Reps who stated they were willing to go back to the drawing board. By the end of the day, there was still no resolution in sight. Previous experience told me that when it did finally happen, it wouldn't be to anyone's benefit. The Union would make sure they got their cut and do their best to prevent layoffs, and the company would find some way to cut costs. When your contract was up during a down year, raises and avoiding benefit cuts simply weren't in the cards.
Unfortunately, I had to ride with Jake, the lecherous photographer, to try unsuccessfully for an interview with the CFO. All I ended up with were five lousy minutes with the PR lackey. We were probably only in the car together for just over an hour since the Boeing production facility was in Everett, thirty miles north of Seattle. However, it didn't take Jake long to annoy the fuck out of me, and he was particularly insufferable on the way home.
"So, how are you adjusting to life at the Reporter? Have you had a chance to see the city yet?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Jake, I'm pretty sure I mentioned that I am originally from Forks, Washington. I've spent plenty of time in Seattle," I said sarcastically. "I'm all filled up on the sightseeing front. Thanks anyway."
"Oh, I bet there are a few sights you haven't seen yet," he said, cutting his eyes to his crotch. Following his glance, I noticed the bulge in his pants and looked up at Jake before rolling my eyes.
There was no doubt he was sexy and that the way the outline of his bulge stretched down his thigh was somewhat appealing. Something about him just screamed: "Stay away! I've fucked enough women to deliver a Petri dish full of diseases to your vag!"
He looked at me as though my thoughts were written all over my face. "You know, I have tried like hell to have a decent conversation with you all week. Did I do something to offend you? Because frankly, I think I've been rather charming, but at every opportunity you've shot me down," he said.
Immediately embarrassed, I backed off my bitchy tone a little and tried to explain. "Look, from all the comments on my apparel and sly innuendos, you offered the impression that you were interested in more than just friendly banter. I'm sure you are a nice guy, but I have a lot on my plate right now and random hook ups with colleagues are just not on my list of to-dos," I offered, somewhat apologetically.
He concentrated on changing lanes through traffic and his profile highlighted his russet skin tone and dark features. He was obviously brooding momentarily, then his lip curled into a cocky smile and he turned away from the road to tell me, "You have an awfully high opinion of yourself, Bella. I was just trying to help you feel at home. I can see now that my efforts were wasted. But in the event you change your mind and decide a late night booty call is in order, I'd be only too happy to oblige."
I laughed his offer off and tried to focus on finishing my notes on the laptop so I could file my story soon after I returned to the office. I caught myself stealing a few glances at Jacob's muscular arms and thighs while he was driving. Drawing a ragged breath through my lips, I did a quick calculation of how long it had been since I'd had a man in my bed.
Eleven months ago, Mike stopped by under false pretenses, and in my inebriated state he caught me in a rare moment of weakness. He was a terrible lay, and I was disappointed to find that the 8 year period between our sexual encounters hadn't earned him any points in the creativity department.
As much as I hated to admit it, Jake could probably run laps around Mike in the bedroom. I decided to change the subject. "You know, I am covering the Chamber's annual dinner tonight, right?" He nodded. "What do you think I can expect from the publisher. Have you ever shot one of these things that Aro attends?"
"Yeah, a couple I think," Jake offered. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure how he operates when it comes to his reporters and I'm nervous he is going to volunteer me to write stories in exchange for ad contracts."
Jake laughed. "I don't know about all that, especially with you being right there. But if there is something that Aro wants, he is well known for his ability to break the rules to get it. No code of journalistic ethics is going to stand in his way of getting under the skin of Carlisle Cullen. Targeting the ad line would be one way of doing it."
Back at the newsroom, I finished my story, but I couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding that grew in the pit of my stomach. Marcus said that Aro personally signed off on hiring me. That meant he likely read my clips and saw my resume. I specialized in hard hitting pieces that shined a light on little-guy successes, earning a California Newspaper Publishers Association award for my investigative series on a Chinese sweatshop that turned hopeful immigrants into indentured servants. The long and short of it was that I have a solid reputation as an advocate in fair business practices. How could Aro possibly expect me hold myself to standards of less than that?
Maybe he bought you for your reputation, Swan. Maybe your squeaky clean image would be difficult to challenge if anything fishy went down.
My mind always went to the worst possible scenario. I should have specialized in covering crime or become a lawyer, because I swear, I had a knack for sniffing out motives. I snorted at the thought. Me covering crime would probably have sent Charlie into wet dream bliss. I could see him now, dropping by on weekends with his case files to "walk through" the latest stick up at the Piggly Wiggly. As much as I loved Charlie; he was harboring some delusions about the criminal underbelly of Forks, Washington.
I grabbed my bag and called in the sandwich order before agreeing to meet Marcus back at the paper at 6:30 pm. In my excitement to see Emmett, I temporarily forgot about my concern over Aro. No matter how long it was between visits, we always slipped back into a comfort zone that reminded me of home–well, home and that time when he felt me up in the dark room our senior year. I bit my bottom lip, recalling the awkward but gratifying gropes and kisses just before graduation.
Maybe Angela's suggestion shouldn't be cast off without a second glance….
You're such a tramp, Bella. Even at times of crisis, you can always be counted on for a pervy thought to lighten the mood.
At the very least, I could count on Emmett to give me the straight scoop about what is going on between the two papers–even if he did work for the competition.
A/N: Okie dokie artichokie. Hopefully everything that is supposed to be clear at this point is. Feel free to pm me if I've lost anyone and please leave me a review. Just out of curiosity, do any of you have any dirty dark room stories to tell?