Page 141 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

“On?” he asks.

“I would expect this intern to be fired immediately, for starters.”

He scoffs. “I can’t just fire someone based on this—”

“I’ll also expect for your publication to pay out a fair image rights wage to Miss Rodriguez since she is the legal owner of the photo you printed.”

His eyes narrow.

“Unless, of course, you have another solution. I will mention, though, that we as a band have an upcoming multi-page feature being published in another magazine, and it would be a shame if we had to call out what happened here.”

There’s a tense silence that settles between us, but I don’t look away or back down. Finally, Yahamara huffs. “Right.” He leans over and presses the red button on an intercom. “Maria, will you come in here, please?”

A moment later, the woman who led me in here enters the room. “Sir?”

Yahamara finally takes his eyes off me and turns to her. “Do you know Simon Cranmer?”

“Oh, yes, the intern?”

“Tell him he’s fired.”

She blinks then looks between us a few times. “I’m sorry?”

“Please tell Mister Cranmer that he’s fired, effective immediately, and to clear out his desk before the end of the day.”

“But sir, I—”

“I’ll also need a photo rights check drawn up and made out to a . . . ?”

I lean forward. “A miss Isabella Rodriguez.”

“Yes, Rodriguez.”

“And that check will reflect your top-tier rate?” I ask.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them again. “Of course. See to that please, Maria.”

I grin.

“Yes, sir,” she says, then backs out of the office.

Yahamara sighs. “Well, if that’s all, Mister Noblar?” He stands and gestures to the door.

“Oh, one last thing,” I say, standing up and brushing off the sleeve of my jacket. “The band would be happy to provide a real interview rather than that garbage you printed two weeks ago, with the condition that you make a donation to the San Francisco AIDS charity.” I remove a card from my pocket and toss it onto the desk. “This is our manager’s contact info. He’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

With one last look, I turn and head out of the office where I’m delighted to hear some shouting from way down the hall.

“Here you are,” Maria says as she hands me a check for Isabella.

“Thank you,” I say. “Appreciate your help.”

Simon’s screaming stops abruptly as he looks at me. I smirk then head for the elevator. The smile that stretches across my face is obscene, but I don’t care. No one will treat Isabella like that ever again.

The elevator doors open to the lobby, and the little brunette from the front desk waves at me again with a smile before I reach the door.

“You fucking asshole!”

I turn to find Simon storming over, his face contorted with rage. He raises his fist but I easily duck his swing, my own right hook whipping around to clock him right in the face. The girl at the desk gasps, but I don’t even bother glancing over. I stand over this sniveling piece of shit, nudging him onto his back with my boot as he grasps at his bloody nose.

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