Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Last night after Kavan finally fell asleep I made the decision to turn in this article. It’s not what Mr. Marks wants, but it’s what my relationship with Kavan needs.
The other article I wrote delves into who Kavan Bane is as a man. It’s a glimpse of him through my eyes. It’s deeply personal.
“Juliet!” Shirlene calls to me as she approaches the doorway to what might be my permanent office.
I’m hopeful that I’ll have the opportunity to continue to write for New York Viewpoint, but if I get bumped back to covering celebrity gossip for RumorMel, I’ll do my best until another opportunity pops up here or with another media organization.
I glance around the space.
It’s a lovely office, decorated in soft tones with an office chair that is so comfortable I could fall asleep in it.
I almost did since I only got about two hours of sleep last night before I rushed home to shower and get ready for this meeting.
Margot was gone by the time I got to our apartment but she left a note on the kitchen counter telling me that we’re going to celebrate tonight.
I may just ask Kavan to reserve a table at Sérénité for my sister and I.
I have a feeling he can pull a string or two to make that happen.
“Juliet,” Shirlene repeats my name as soon as she’s in the doorway. “I meant to come see you sooner.”
“I’m good.” I wave her worries away with a hand in the air. “I’ve been editing my article, checking all the facts, you know, the usual.”
She chuckles. “I’ve lived the life of a journalist without living the life of a journalist.”
It takes me a second to make sense of that. “You must have a lot of memories about some of the biggest stories of the last…”
My voice trails because I don’t want to insult her by assuming she’s worked here for decades.
I assume she’s older than my parents based on her headshot on the Marks Creative website. She must have been in her early twenties then and it is a black and white shot. Perhaps, she was going for a more artistic headshot than everyone else.
“I’ve worked here a hell of a long time.” She laughs. “I’ve seen presidents come and go. I’ve witnessed a man stepping foot on the moon. I even got to read gossip about some Hollywood bigwigs before it went to print.”
“You’re lucky.”
“I do have to say that the story you’re working on is one I remember very well.”
Unsure, if she’s trying to get a sneak peek of my article, I snap the cover of my laptop shut. I want Mr. Marks to see it. If he approves, I’ll show it to Kavan for his final approval.
There isn’t anything sensational in it, so I’m confident he’ll be satisfied with it.
Shirlene helps herself to a chair facing my desk. She takes a seat crossing her ankles as she stretches her legs out in front of her. “Mr. Bane was a saint. He went out of his way to help anyone in this city who needed it. When he died it impacted a lot of people.”
“That’s what I’ve come to understand,” I say, choosing my words carefully.
“I don’t think it impacted anyone more than his son.”
I glance up to look at her face. “I agree with you, Shirlene.”
“The police dropped the charges.” She taps a finger against her knee. “I think that says something, don’t you? He may not have been cleared in a court of law, but that doesn’t make him guilty.”
“It doesn’t.”
“I’ve always wondered why he didn’t speak up and explain the dropped charges.” She sighs. “The District Attorney in Miami didn’t get into specifics. Maybe if she had he wouldn’t be living under this shadow of suspicions still.”
This woman speaks my language. I smile. “Maybe one day he will.”
Maybe, just maybe, there are more people who view Kavan in the same light as Shirlene.
My phone buzzes, so I drop my gaze to it.
Brad: Text me back, sunshine. I’m headed over to meet you on Madison now.
I pick up the phone to text him back to tell him that he needs to give whatever he has to someone else, but I don’t.
“Shirlene, how much longer do you think Mr. Marks will be?” I wince. “I don’t mean to be pushy, but I have a source who wants to meet up. It’s close. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
She taps her forehead. “Damn, my memory is slipping. I came in to tell you Mr. Marks had to leave for the day, Juliet. It’s a family thing. His grandson, Penn, said Mama for the first time today, so Mr. Marks wants to hear that with his own two ears. He’s been trying to get that little guy to say grandpa, but that’ll take some time.”