Page 101 of I'm Looking for a Man in Finance
Most nights, we either ate out or ordered in. I couldn’t remember the last time that we actually cooked a meal in our tiny kitchen that only one person fit in. But as the day bled into the night, my anxiety skyrocketed, digging itself deep enough in my mind to fester there. In order to distract myself from the article I was looking forward to being published the most out of this entire series, I’d decided I would try to use the skills I’d learned during my second date with James and cook.
That was clearly a mistake.
The pressure of showcasing Rossi Pizzeria had never felt greater until Anthea had pushed back the article. The anticipation only made it worse. I had made the choice to highlight the pizzeria’s menu, the atmosphere that James’s grandparents had carefully cultivated, and the picturesque location with the Brooklyn Bridge arching high over the top of the building. I put my heart and soul into the article. It was the first time that I meant every single word I wrote.
I’d also included just how James made me feel. How he introduced me to his family, and just how welcoming theywere. I even went as far to mention James’s invitation back to his home after dinner, alluding to our evening together, only to placate Anthea’s desires to make these articles into something that women across the world could live vicariously through.
“Yeah, but she didn’t say when.”
I hit refresh one more time.
But this time, the website didn’t return with the same article about the C-List celebrity couple and the taco truck they bravely decided to have at their wedding instead of a seated dinner.
“I think it’s loading.” Roxie spat out the chunk of chicken she was giving a second try and hurried to squeeze in next to me, so we both had a view of my laptop screen.
“Wait …” Roxie trailed off. “Is that what you wrote?”
Ice-cold dread gripped me as I stared at the headline, each rereading solidifying my worst nightmare. Rather than the article I’d written entitled “Mr. Old Fashioned is More Than he Seemed”, I was looking at a headline that read “What Should You Do When They Run Out of Money? RUN!”.
My body was in complete shock, my heart pounding in my chest like a relentless drumroll. Each thump echoed in my ears, drowning out any other sound. My hands trembled so violently I had to stuff them between my thighs just to stop the shaking.
I tried to focus on the words before me. Thoughts sluggishly formed and dissolved, like fragments of a puzzle struggling to fit together. I was so confused that I could barely grasp the seriousness of the situation.
Gone was the article that I had poured my heart andsoul into. Fear gripped me as I read the first paragraph, noticing changes to my writing that I hadn’t made. Stripping away my appreciation for the evening and replacing them with thoughts of cynicism over the change in grandeur from our past dates.
My eyes scanned the screen faster and faster, hoping that whoever had made these changes had the forethought to remove the name of the Rossi’s restaurant. Frantically, I scrolled through the rest of the article, searching for any remnants of my original work. To my dismay, someone had altered every line, erasing my carefully crafted prose. The once sentimental story had been transformed into a near hit piece on Mr. Old Fashioned. The only saving grace was whoever had done this was kind enough to remove any details that would give away the exact pizzeria that James had taken me to.
My heart sank as I realized the magnitude of what had happened. Someone had tampered with my article, deliberately sabotaging my story. Anger and frustration surged through me.
“Hallie?” Roxie had both of her hands on my shoulders now, jostling me gently to pull my attention from the article. “Hallie, what’s going on? What’s happening?”
“Someone rewrote my article,” I finally got out.
A silent gasp escaped Roxie as her jaw dropped open.
“I can’t believe someone would do that,” she finally said, her voice filled with disbelief. To my best friend’s credit, she sprang into action when she realized I was still frozen in shock. “But we’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll find out who did this.”
“I just don’t understand.” My voice broke as I pushedthe last word out. Ever since I’d agreed to this ridiculous column, it had been nothing but whiplash with surprises around every corner.
Then I realized James would read this article right now, just like me. The article’s content would completely blindside him. “Oh, my God. James.”
Roxie’s eyes widened as she realized what I was thinking. “Where’s your work phone?”
She frantically searched the couch and coffee table, which were both covered in various magazines, books, and binders for Roxie’s work that she was preparing to send out for freelance work.
“My room, I think.”
In a flash, Roxie had dashed to my room. She came back, holding my phone firmly. “You should call him. Tell him what’s happened.”
With trembling hands, I reached for my phone and dialed James’s number. Then I dialed it again. And again. As the ringing echoed in my ears, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had deduced anything about the changes made to my article. Then, as the ringing stretched past when he normally answered, I worried he wouldn’t pick up at all. Perhaps I was too hopeful in assuming James wouldn’t find the published version of my article offensive.
“He didn’t answer.” I slowly took the phone away from my ear.
Then I dialed his number again. And again.
