Page 23 of Breaking News

Jill:We’re all just really mature.

Meghan:lol

chapter eight

Graham

On Wednesday morning, I put all my trust and faith into a sixteen-year-old named Richie Bailey. He had one job: to deliver my daughter to her first day at WWTV in one piece. Preferably on time.

The night before, I’d gotten into a rare disagreement with Andrea. When I questioned why Richie would be at their house so early in the first place, and Andrea revealed she’d been allowing him to sleep over a lot, I almost stroked out.

And then…

“Maybe you haven’t figured this out, Graham, but our daughter is already sexually active.”

No. No, I hadn’t already figured that out.

I was also unaware Olivia had been taking the pill for at least six months. As a “precaution,” according to Andrea. It wasn’t that I needed to be part of the decision—it was just that I’d been left in the dark completely.“I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to be a grandparent,”I’d said, reminding her Olivia’s existence alone was proof that the pill wasn’t always effective.

And Andrea had the gall to tell me not to be so melodramatic.

The frustration was still simmering just beneath the surface as I walked into the conference room just before 8:00 a.m., where some of the interns were already trickling in. Elaine passed out packets, pens, and pastries to all the bright-eyed teenagers, some of them still half-asleep. Others were excitedly watching Jill behind the news desk through the soundproof glass walls of the conference room. Her live report was over for the day, but she was pre-recording material for the evening broadcast.

I couldn’t hear a word she was saying, but from the animated way she moved her arms, I could tell she was in good spirits. For a few minutes, I was just as distracted by her as the kids were, watching her smooth her hair between takes.

At two minutes before the top of the hour, the packet with Olivia’s name on it still sat untouched on the long table. She was still nowhere to be seen. And when seven out of eight interns had filled their seats by 7:59, my heart began to sink. She was going to be late.

This had to be Richie’s fault. Ithadto.I’m going to hang that kid by his toes and—

Olivia strolled into the room at 8:00 on the dot, looking more polished and grown up than I’d ever seen her. I didn’t even know my kid owned a blazer, let alone heels that gave her an extra three inches of height. She walked in them like a pro, though, giving me a side glance before finding her seat. All business.

I kept my expression neutral, offering only a polite nod and half-smile.

Because twelve hours ago, I made a promise: I wasn’t allowed to acknowledge that she was my daughter in front of the other interns. She said it would embarrass her so much she’d never forgive me, and I took her at her word.

“Welp. I think they’re all here, aren’t they, Elaine?” I asked, adjusting my tie. I’d gone with the full suit today—not myfavorite choice, but I figured I should at least try to look like someone these teenagers might take seriously.

Elaine, who was out of breath from flitting around the conference room, fiddled with her lanyard and nodded. “I think so. Are you ready to introduce yourself and say a few words?”

She had been planning this orientation meeting for a few days. She even wrote me a little introductory speech, but I barely looked at it. I was no stranger to speaking in front of a room of young adults.

“Good morning, everyone,” I said, standing at the head of the table. I waited until the majority of them were looking at me. “I know you’re all eager to get this boring paperwork out of the way and get started, but I wanted to quickly introduce myself, because you’ll be seeing me a lot around here.”

I had to remind myself I was speaking to all of them, not just my daughter. I couldn’t let my eyes linger on her face for too long.

“I’m Graham Harlowe,” I continued, “interim CEO of Woodvale News Network. That title might sound impressive, but it really just means I sit in a lot of meetings and try not to mess things up too badly for the next guy.”

A couple of them chuckled, but they had no idea how accurate that statement actually was. I went on about the exciting summer ahead, reminding them how lucky they were to be sitting in those seats, attempting to work in some humor to help them relax. Still, nerves were high. The pimply, curly-haired kid on the end looked like he was about to be sick. I figured a little levity might help.

“Just last night, we had a full-blown crisis on Persimmon Road—cows on the loose, chickens staging a mass escape. Absolute chaos. Feathers everywhere. And who was first on the scene? WWTV. So as you can see, we cover all the hard-hitting stories here.”

Only one of them giggled, and it wasn’t Olivia, who rolled her eyes at the ceiling. The guy with the curly hair squirmed beside her, and half of them looked like they could fall asleep at any minute.

Time to wrap this up.

I straightened my tie with a sharp inhale. “Look, I’m not going to bullshit you guys,” I said, leaning onto my hands on the back of the chair in front of me. The expletive brought them all to full attention. “Working for small town media doesn’t always feel rewarding, especially when we’re covering missing dogs or watermelon seed spitting contests. And I’ve done both, believe me.”

I paused, and most of them laughed. I had them now.

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