Page 5 of Cove City: Vol. I

I wasn’t sure how this would play out, so I haven’t given up my apartment yet. I aimed to get my feet wet by writing small magazine columns until I was ready to start my own. However, I was rejected by every major magazine company I applied to. Although it was merely a newspaper company, Cove City Press was the only one that responded.

My phone rang while I was trying to focus on the road. I took a glance at the screen, and it was my mother. I didn’t have timefor what she had to say. I was on the move. I’d been driving for over ten hours and was crunched for time. When I spotted my exit, I swerved, cutting three cars off to make my exit.

The loud honking made me keep my head straight to avoid any eye contact. I followed my GPS until I arrived in front of an old building that looked unlike the News Press building, but a century-old warehouse in downtown. I exited the car, straightened my pencil skirt, and threw on my heels before strolling in. Once inside I was expecting a well-organized front desk secretary with a shitty attitude, an elegant aesthetic and even a nice comfortable waiting area. This place was shit and just by looking around explained the pay.

People moved around the space as if I didn’t exist. An older black woman approached me. Her yellow dingy cardigan sweater, denim jeans, and off black flats gave teacher vibes. She pushed her glasses, which sat on her nose, up and smiled. “Hi, welcome to Cove City Press, or in other words, Cove City News, where the streets talk, and we write. I saw you come in and could tell you were a bit lost. I’ve been here since—”

I cut her off. I could tell she was a talker and didn’t have time to listen. “I have an interview with a George Pa-Plow—”

“Paloschi,” she said, correcting me.

“Yes, him.”

She turned, glancing around at the chaos behind her. “He’s right over,” she paused, then pointed. “There. Look, I know him very well. Give him your credentials and shoot him a few smiles, and the job is yours.”

She was confident that I would get the job by following her simple instructions. I glanced at her, then at the corner piled with papers, with George sitting behind them. I strutted my way over to his desk and stood before him. He didn’t even bother to look at me.

I slightly tilted down to try to catch his glance. “Hello, I’m here for the interview. I’m Tuesday Morning,” I said.

He stopped what he was doing to look at me. “Is that really your name?”

I smiled. “Yes. Most people are surprised, but it is.”

He raised his brows. “Well shit, I thought it was a joke when I saw your application and just because I was intrigued, I requested an interview. Sit,” he told me.

My name had always been the conversation starter. I wasn’t sure where my mother’s head was when naming me, but I loved my name. I figured the older I got, the more fitting it would become. I guess because I hadn’t rolled into my thirties, it surprised many, but I only had a few months until then. I sat in the seat waiting for the first question. George said nothing as we awkwardly stared at each other.

I fiddled with my thumbs, waiting for him to ask me something. He glanced at his computer screen, then at me. “TSU?”

“Yes,goBlue Hawks.” I laughed.

I felt so uncomfortable, damn near fake. My shoulders dropped, and I saw the lady nodding at me. Before he could say another word, I jumped right in. “Look, I am a TSU graduate. I moved back to my home state, hoping to write for a magazine company there. I’m a great writer. I wrote for the university’s newspaper and I’m skilled at researching and uncovering information. My writing turnaround time is almost instant, and I need this job.” I smiled.

George glared at me curiously. “Hmm, I recently had someone quit. The city is becoming a warzone, and the people need to hear about it. Your first column is due in thirty days. The war between Parkside Cove and Lake Hill. Take it or leave it.”

I knew nothing about either, but was super excited. “I’ll take it!” I squealed.

“Good. You start now.”

With that, he turned his attention back to his screen. I was given no direction, no desk, nothing. I stood from the chair and looked around again.

“Best will help you with your needs,” I heard him mumble.

Who the hell is Best?The older lady came up to me and winked. “Congratulations and welcome to Cove City News, where the—”

I rolled my eyes. “Where the streets talk and we write, I know. Can you tell me where I can find Best?”

A quirky laugh fell from her lips. “I’m Best. Best Harmon, and you are?”

“I should have known. Tuesday Morning.”

She reached out and grabbed my hand, dragging me behind her. “What a pretty name.”

She led me to a beat-up desk on the far end of the building. “You remind me so much of my daughter. Printing for columns is due by the end of the week. We like to be early. I’ve been here for twenty years, and I can tell you if it’s not in, it will not be printed, no exceptions.”

I nodded slowly. Best had turned to walk away, but I stopped her. “Hey, Best,” I called out.

She turned with a bright smile.

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