The One I Love to Hate Page 9

  “We don’t share specifics, you know that.”

  “Where did you meet him?” Sally asked.

  “I already told you, I’ve never met him.”

  “No, which site? Was it OkCupid, or Match.com, or Tinder, or—”

  How on earth did Sally know about Tinder? Lina turned to fill her in, sparing Jess the trouble. “She was stalking his posts on this message board—”

  “I’d hardly call it stalking!”

  “—and then she finally got up the courage to talk to him. The next thing you know, he’s got her texting him, and now look at her. Swooning over some stranger.”

  “I’m not swooning.” Not much, anyway.

  “He hasn’t asked to meet you?” Sally asked.

  “No. Um, not really.” Which hadn’t struck her as odd until Sally put her on the spot about it. There was that moment when he nearly did this morning, but then nothing. He didn’t actually do it. She didn’t feel so giddy anymore.

  “If you get along so well, it seems like he’d want to meet you in person,” Sally mused, straightening the message pad and pen on her desk.

  “Maybe he’s married,” Griffin said.

  “He’s not married.” There had been no ring. Definitely not married.

  “Or he has a girlfriend,” Lina added. “You know all men are lying dogs.”

  “Hey!” Griffin protested.

  “Present company excepted, Griff.”

  “But he could be anybody.” Lina was warming to the subject now. “I mean, you met him on the Collective. You might already know him.”

  “There’s no way I already know him, Lina.” Surely she’d know, right? She’d be able to tell? She’d seen his fingers! Those were not the fingers of anyone she knew.

  “How do you know? Maybe it’s Marc. Or Caleb. Or maybe it’s Isaiah.”

  Jess rolled her eyes. “For God’s sake, Lina, it is not Isaiah. He’s over forty.”

  “But—”

  “And gay.”

  “Okay, it’s not Isaiah. All I’m saying is that until you meet him, you don’t really know who you’re sexy texting with.”

  “Jess is sexting with random strangers?” Zoe asked from the doorway.

  “No, I’m not,” Jess insisted.

  “Yet,” Lina said. “Mark my words, it’s just a matter of time before he asks you to send nudes.”

  “I’d never do that. So can we stop speculating about my sex life with strangers now?”

  Sally hiked an eyebrow as she sorted the mail. “According to you, there’s no sex happening at all.”

  “Okay, that’s enough!” Jess laughed. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I have newspaper stories to write.”

  “Not yet, you don’t.” Zoe waved the paper in her hand. “Memo from Lauren. Expense reports are due by noon.”

  “What? I thought they were due on Friday.” Lina snatched the memo out of her hand and skimmed it quickly. “Receipts is ei not ie. And why does she pass out photocopies? Has she never heard of email?”

  “Bookkeeping asked for receipts early for the end-of-the-quarter close-out.”

  “They gave us three hours to get them done?”

  “No.” Zoe took a step closer and lowered her voice. “They told Lauren two weeks ago. Lauren forgot to tell us until this morning. Hence the panicked memo.”

  “Oh, great.” Lina rolled her eyes. “Once again, we’re all going to have to drop everything to cover her ass.”

  “Sorry.” Zoe shrugged.

  “It’s not your fault, Zo.”

  “Well, let’s get it over with,” Jess said, following Lina toward the newsroom.

  “Um, Jess, can I talk to you for a minute?” Zoe’s eyes flicked toward Sally and Griffin. “In private?”

  “Yeah, sure. Out here.” Jess led her back out onto the stairs. A few people were filing past, headed to offices on other floors, but no one from the Post was out there.

  Only now did Jess notice how anxious Zoe looked. All her usual perky energy was missing, and she was twisting her hands together. “What’s going on?”

  “I have something to tell you that you’re not going to like.”

  “Is this about the interview? Gallagher’s not going to talk, is he?” Disappointing, but not that surprising. She’d just have to keep at him herself.

  “Um...” Zoe’s eyes drifted to the side. “That’s not it. He was willing to talk.” Hesitantly, Zoe looked back to her. “But only to me.”

  “Oh.” Jess blinked, trying to sort out the implications of that.

  Zoe began speaking in a rush. “Dad introduced me and he was really friendly, but when I explained what I was there for, and that my colleague at the paper had uncovered some issues, he closed right up. You’d done all that research, Jess, and I was afraid if I walked out of there without telling him about it, he’d call in the lawyers and there would never be any answers. So I told him what you’d uncovered in the bid, and about CDS’s history with the city and the personal connection to his staff. He was completely dumbfounded. It turns out his comptroller is the one who’s married to the CDS staffer, and he was the one who oversaw the whole process. As of this morning, the comptroller is on administrative leave, and they’re launching an investigation into possible criminal wrongdoing.”

  “Oh. Okay, well that’s a pretty big deal. I’d better get going and—”

  “There’s more,” Zoe said quietly. “I called Mariel from Albany as soon as it happened, and she told me to write it up, so we’d break it first. It’s in today’s edition.”

  Zoe’s words slammed into her like a physical blow. “She told you to write it up? Did you tell her it was my story?”

  “Yes! I did! But she said that since I’d landed the interview, it was my story now. I insisted that you get credited for the research, though. It’s not a byline, but—”

  “So you wrote my story?” The back of her neck prickled and her throat felt tight.

  “I’m so sorry, Jess. I swear, I didn’t know it was going to work out like this. I feel terrible.”

  “No, it’s not—” Jess had to stop and swallow down a raw knot of devastation. “It’s not your fault. You were trying to do me a favor.”

  Her face burned with humiliation. She’d screwed this up. She should have run Gallagher down herself, then everything would have been different. She’d have been the one there when he discovered the shady bid process, and it would be her name on that byline right now. But she’d let Zoe run interference for her and lost her first major story because of it.

  “Jess?” Zoe tentatively reached out and touched her hand. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. You worked so hard—”

  “No, it’s fine.” Shaking her head, Jess forced the most brittle smile of her life onto her face. She was the one who’d dropped the ball. It wasn’t Zoe’s fault that she was the one to pick it up. “You landed the critical interview. You got the story. That’s how it works.”

  Zoe gave her a sad smile and squeezed her hand. “Your time is coming, Jess. I just know it. And I owe you. Anytime you need me, just say the word.”

  “Sure. Congratulations, Zoe.”

  Zoe dropped her eyes to her feet. “Guess we’d better get in there and finish our expense reports, huh?”

  “You go on. I’m going to—” She had no idea what she was going to do, but whatever it was, she was getting out of the newsroom until she could sit at her desk without breaking something in frustration. “I’m going for a cup of coffee.”

  She headed back downstairs and outside. She needed to talk, and not to Lina, or her sisters, or anyone else in her real life. Regardless of what everyone seemed to think about Peabody’s role in her life, right now, she needed him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Peabody hadn’t been online when she’d gotten Zoe’s terrible news
about her story, and her disappointment had been profound. Somehow, being unable to talk to him about it made the whole thing even worse than it already was.

  But later that night, when she settled on her bed and checked her phone, she saw he’d messaged her, just an hour earlier.

  Peabody: I thought about you today. I think about you a lot, actually. Sorry, did I just get weird? Too much? Whatever, it’s the truth. Anyway, today, something happened. Someone said something to me, and I had this overwhelming urge to turn to you to see your reaction. Isn’t that crazy? I could picture you right there next to me, and I just knew what you’d say. Which is funny, because I can’t really picture you at all. I don’t know what you look like, or what your voice sounds like, but it feels like I do. Without knowing anything specific about you, I could still feel you right next to me. I’m not even making sense to myself.

  Oh. It took her several long moments to draw in a full breath, never mind marshaling her thoughts enough to manage a coherent response.

  PaperGirl: It’s not crazy. Not at all. I must have thought about you at least a dozen times today. I got some terrible news at work today, and even though I could have vented to a dozen people about it, you’re the first person I wanted to talk to.

  Peabody: I’m sorry about work. I’m here now. Vent away.

  PaperGirl: I’m past it now. I’ll survive, and next time I’ll get it right.

  Peabody: You amaze me. It’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone as determined as you.

  PaperGirl: You really have a knack for making me feel good about myself.

  Peabody: Well, you make it easy. You do the same for me, you know. Having you to talk to is becoming the best part of my days.

  Okay, maybe it was time to give him a firm nudge in the right direction.

  PaperGirl: It’s the same for me. What are we going to do about this?

  She hit send before she could talk herself out of it. A few minutes went by without a reply and she tried to imagine what he was doing, what he was thinking.

  Peabody: I think the best part of our days could be even better if we were face-to-face.

  Jess let out a long exhale and clutched her phone to her chest. Yes. He did want to meet her. The idea made her nervous, but she was far more excited than scared. He texted again before she could reply.

  Peabody: But not yet. I’m not ready yet.

  In an instant, her hopes deflated, and a speck of doubt wiggled its way in. Maybe everybody at work was right. What did she really know about him? He’d said he was single, but maybe his idea of single and hers were two different things. Plenty of guys would do that, but she hated to think Peabody was one of them.

  PaperGirl: Is there a reason you can’t?

  Peabody: It’s not what you’re thinking, I promise you. I’m not involved with anybody.

  PaperGirl: Then what is it?

  Peabody: There are things about me you don’t know. Things I haven’t told you. Once you know, things might change.

  PaperGirl: I can’t imagine anything you tell me changing what I think of you.

  Peabody: I’ve just had some past experiences that make me wary. This isn’t about you. It’s about me.

  PaperGirl: Okay. I don’t want to push you into something you don’t want.

  Peabody: It’s not a matter of wanting. I want it.

  His text glowed on her screen with its almost-confession, the almost-words. I want you. She desperately wanted to believe that. But her more rational side was being eminently sensible right now, reminding her that while he’d been a perfect gentleman in their every interaction, she didn’t really know him. In the beginning, she’d thought this intellectual connection was enough, but it turned out she needed more than words before she could fully trust him.

  But she also couldn’t blame him for being cautious. It was scary, meeting someone face-to-face that you’d only known online. Maybe she’d be disappointed, or he would. Maybe the chemistry they had when they were messaging would fail to materialize when they were sitting across from each other.

  His hesitation was perfectly understandable, and he’d given her every indication of being a good guy. She owed him a little more time to sort things out for himself.

  PaperGirl: It’s okay. I understand.

  Peabody: I’m sorry. I don’t want to lose this.

  PaperGirl: You won’t lose it. I’m still here.

  Peabody: You have no idea how much that matters to me. I don’t have a lot of people I can call a friend and really know it’s true.

  Friend. What a ghastly word. But that’s all they were for now. Friends, burgeoning with the promise of something more.

  She honestly valued his friendship. Even if all she ever had was this online communication, that was okay. Yes, she had a bone-deep sense that there could be much more between them...something really special. But only when he was ready. So they’d stay friends until Peabody was ready to take things to the next level. She just hoped it was soon.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Jessica! Mariel’s office, now!” Lauren bellowed across the newsroom.

  Jess groaned in frustration. What now? Did her fingers make too much noise when she typed? As she made her way to Mariel’s office, everyone she passed gave her commiserating smiles.

  “You wanted to see me, Lauren?” she asked brightly. Mariel, Lauren, Isaiah, and Hassan from Circulation were clustered around Mariel’s desk, looking at something on her laptop.

  Lauren spun Mariel’s laptop around. “Do you mind explaining this?”

  She took a step closer to see. Oh, no. The paper’s Twitter account was open on the screen, and there was the back-and-forth exchange she’d been engaged in with ClickNews. Okay, in retrospect, that had been very unwise.

  “They’ve been goading me.” And now she sounded like a child. How could she have been so stupid? So irresponsible? Why couldn’t she have just ignored them?

  “The Urbanist wrote a goddamned post about it!” Lauren clicked to a new tab and imperiously pointed to the screen.

  “What?” Jess was filled with dread as she moved closer to read. The Urbanist was possibly the most popular site in the five boroughs for New York–centric pop culture and gossip. The headline said “Old Media Takes on New Media in Everybody’s Favorite New Flame War.” What followed were screen caps of her tweets with ClickNews, along with screen caps of other users, commenting on the argument. Sometime since she’d last replied to them, their exchange had gone viral. In a major way.

  @cece978 Daaaamnnn, @Brooklyn_Daily_Post, school that asshole hard!

  @victorious_mel Hey, @ClickNews, you gonna let them talk to you like that? Come on, dude!

  @spronks_in_Queens This is my favorite thing on Twitter right now.

  @stephanie679 Is it weird that I’m kinda shipping these Twitter accounts?

  @allison_smith @stephanie679 Me too!

  “I’m afraid to ask what shipping means,” Mariel said.

  Hassan saved Jess from having to explain. “It’s when someone is a fan of a relationship, real or imagined, between two fictional characters. Or in this case, two Twitter handles.”

  “What do you mean, a fan of the relationship?”

  Hassan shrugged. “Like, you wanna see the relationship happen. Get it? Relationship? Ship? It’s a verb.”

  Mariel scowled. “No, I don’t get it.”

  “It’s like in Vampire Diaries. Some people shipped Stelena and some people shipped Delena.”

  Mariel’s expression was blank. “Are you using real words right now?”

  Hassan took a deep breath. “Okay, obviously we need to go older. Did you watch The X Files?”

  “Everybody did.”

  “Were you rooting for Mulder and Scully to get together?”

  “Sure. Everyone was.”

  “Then you shipped them,
” Hassan explained. “Just like Maddie and Dave in Moonlighting, or Han and Leia in Star Wars.”

  “But that was part of the plot.”

  “Sometimes people ship characters who don’t get together in the plot.”

  “Like Han and Luke,” Isaiah interjected, with a slightly guilty expression on his face. “Or Han and Lando.”

  Hassan gave Isaiah an approving nod. “Nice.”

  Mariel blinked. “People do that?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Hassan and Isaiah said in unison.

  “And they’re doing that about the Daily Post and ClickNews?”

  “And they’re having loads of fun doing it.” Hassan looked at Isaiah. “I bet there’s already fan fic.”

  “Mmm-hmm. You know it.”

  “Dare I ask what fan fic is?”

  Hassan shook his head. “It’s too soon. The fic would blow your mind. Hey, Mariel, I know it’s new territory for you, but this is going viral in a big way. You can’t buy this kind of coverage. It’s pretty amazing. Good work, Jess.”

  “What are you talking about?” Lauren fumed. “This is a disaster.”

  “Lauren, this thing is blowing up our feed. Think about it. The Urbanist is writing about us.”

  “Not for anything good! Just her Twitter bullshit. I knew I never should have let you take over the accounts.”

  What? No way was she going to rewrite history. “Let me? Lauren, you didn’t let me—”

  Hassan cut her off. “People are following the paper’s Twitter in droves. We’ve got over two thousand followers as of this morning.”

  Jess gasped. “Two thousand followers? We had forty-seven when I started tweeting.”

  “And it’ll go up all day as people read that Urbanist post,” Hassan added. “I bet we crack ten K before the end of the day.”

  Mariel pressed her palms down onto her desktop. “Obviously I’m a little behind on this social media stuff.” She glanced at Isaiah. “And a lot of other things. Do these Twitter followers actually translate into a readership? That’s all I need to know.”