Page 41 of King of Hearts

“If she is messaging you first most days, I think she is probably interested. Why don’t you take her to dinner and see if it is different in person.” I didn’t wait for his reply to my suggestion knowing he would initially scoff at the idea, needing time to process. But as I closed my door and unlocked my phone, I couldn’t wipe the small smile that my little gamer roommate might be able to go on a date of his own.

Arna:What you up to? I’m hitting the Mall. You keen?

Marlee:Lucas has something planned apparently. Sorry. Xx

Arna:I hope it involves you getting laid. Organise for us to meet asap. xo

I was laying on my bed reading Ana Huang’s latest novel when my phone buzzed, breaking me from a steamy scene. It was probably for the best, because I had no business reading such a book before I went to see Andy tonight.

I’d finished all my regular Sunday chores and I wasn’t needed in the office for once so it was a rare moment when I could lose myself in a novel with no interruptions.

Glancing at the screen, I groaned when I saw it was Darren. So much for not being needed at work.

I wanted to ignore it, throw the screeching device under my pillow and return to the twisted world of my book, but the work guilt set in and I took a deep breath before answering.

“Hi, Darren.” My voice was much perkier than I felt at taking his call. On - my - Sunday.

“Arna, I’ve sent you a manuscript.”Oh, no, don’t apologise,you didn’t interrupt my weekend.

“Oh.” I so desperately wanted to tell him I didn’t care or offer to read it first thing tomorrow during business hours but he knew as well as I did that, I wouldn’t do that.

“It slipped through the cracks but it is set to go in tomorrow’s edition. Any chance you could have it ready for publishing today? I would do it myself but I am snowed under, finalising some of the other articles, you know?” Another thing we both knew – he was not finalising shit. He simply couldn’t be bothered and knew someone else would do it for him. Someone else being me.

“Argh, sure. I guess. I’ll look now.” I stuck my middle finger up into the air mouthingfuck offfor good measure, wishing I could do it to him for real.

“Thank you so much, Arna. These are the things that will be considered when we select the Senior Editor.” And there it was. The carrot he constantly dangled which allowed him to have me working on my weekends and doing far more than the other editors.

“No worries, happy to help.” I lied.

“How’s the Gloss article? Ready for Flick and I to have a read yet?” It grated on me how he coupled her with him, as if I needed them both to proof my work. He knew I was his best editor.

“I’m really happy with it. Probably only need another hour or two with him before I finalise.”

I could easily publish the article in the next edition, but the premise of needing to meet with Andy for the feature was something I wasn’t ready to lose. What if he realised he had no reason to see me anymore or he wasn’t happy with what I wrote and it placed a wedge between us?

“Hmmmm.” Darren hummed and it felt heavy with implication. I didn’t say anything, instead waiting for him to continue. I knew he was again thinking about my ability to remain impartial but his hands were tied. Andy would only work with me – which I secretly loved – not only for the grievance this caused my boss but also for the boost to my self-esteem.

When he finally did speak, his tone was measured. “Arna, we must ensure that personal biases, or shall we say – distractions – don’t cloud our judgement in our reporting.” There was absolutely nothing subtle about the scrutiny underlying his attempt at a professional facade. The implication behind his words made the back of my neck prickle with unease and I closed my eyes, pressing my thumb and middle finger into my temples. “We wouldn’t want any outside influences affecting the accuracy of our stories.” He finished.

Maintaining a composure I was not even close to feeling, I spoke calmly but with an assertion which dared him to argue. “Darren, I understand the importance of journalistic integrity and I will again assure you that it’s something I take very seriously. My personal life has never interfered with my professional duties before, and that won’t start now. I’m committed to delivering a fair and unbiased representation of Andy Gloss regardless of theseoutside influencesof which you speak.”

This prick was begging me to tell him where to go in questioning my ability to remain ethical. It was a Sunday and he had the gall to both request work from me and then throw shade about something he clearly knew nothing about.

He coughed, obviously taken aback by my bold reply. Mother-fucker was testing my patience.

“I best get started on this edit. I will send it through once it’s done.” I asserted.

“Thanks.” He clipped, hanging up without an apology or any further comment.

“Fuck you.” I yelled into my now disconnected phone while reaching for my laptop.

Opening the document, I scrolled the four-page article which was of course riddled with errors. This was going to take the rest of the afternoon. I regrettably threw my novel to the side and began the tedious task of correcting another piece of garbage.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Andy

Leading the Hearts through a win was one of the best feelings in the world. The boys were amped up, the banter flowed and the laughter was in abundance. Successes were celebrated and missed opportunities were explored positively with a ‘fix it next game’ optimism.

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