Page 93 of Waiting for Her

Simon:It would seem you may have neglected to tell me how well you knew Grady Ryan. You need to call me so we can discuss this.

“Why don’t you do it now? Rip the Band-aid off?”

“Because I already know what’s going to happen. I’m off the story,” she whimpers.

“Let’s find out for sure, okay?”

She takes a deep breath and then my brave girl presses a button on her phone.

“Put it on speaker,” I whisper.

“Bri,” he answers, voice hard.

“Simon. I’m so sorry.”

“So this is why you were so adamant about not being given the job because of special treatment? How did you not think to tell me how well you knew Ryan?”

“You’re a reporter, Simon. I assumed you’d done your research,” she smarts back, and I raise my eyebrows.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare pin this on me. You’re better than that.”

Her shoulders straighten. “You’re right, I am. But I also know without a doubt, I’m still the best person to be doing this story.”

“Even though you were once in love with him?”

“Am.”

“Pardon?”

“Am in love with him.”

“Fuck. Bri, what the hell?”

“I’m sorry, Simon.”

“And drugs? I thought you were in treatment for anorexia?”

She jerks back and looks at me. I’ve stayed silent, not wanting to get in the middle of it but I also want to make sure this guy isn’t a dick to her. “I don’t understand.”

“The person who contacted us let us know the reason you were in a treatment facility was because of a drug addiction. Now, I’m not saying we wouldn’t have hired you, but what I am saying is you were hired under the assumption of full disclosure of that time of your life.”

“Well, I’m not sure who yoursourceis, but they have it wrong. I was, in fact, anorexic and have never done drugs in my life. Not even weed. But thanks, Simon, for your belief in me. Feels amazing.”

“Bri…”

“No, stop. You said I knew better? Well, so do you. Youknowwhat I struggled with is what brought me to Ava. The woman, might I remind you, you married. So if you don’t believe me, are you saying you don’t believe your wife, too?”

“Now hold it right there,” he interrupts, but my girl is angry. I can see it in the fire in her eyes, and the rigidity of her spine.

I mute her phone with a stab of a finger. “This story is yours. Whether we’re together or not.”

I’m not entirely sure that’s true, considering I have yet to speak to the board, but I’ll make sure she gets credit for it somehow. She’s put in the time, and I’m not sure I trust anyone else with my team.

I unmute the phone and she asks, “You want me off this story?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what’s this call about, Simon? Am I not doing my job?”

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