Page 98 of Lessons in Forgiving
“Oh, please.” Her eyes rolled before flicking to me, only for a moment. “By who?”
“The subject of it, Lacy.”
Their back-and-forth continued, but I checked out. My head roared and my stomach lurched, and my heart missed a beat, I think.
The subject of it.
Eddie’s words echoed in my mind.
He was very sure he wanted this profile and everything else that comes with it.
It suddenly seemed so obvious. Like it’d been staring me in the face for weeks and I’d just looked through it, ignored anything that had hinted at the possibility, ever since I’d gotten this profile.
Because of Henry. Because he wanted me on it, and he’d made sure it would happen.
“What areyousmiling about?” The sweet undertone that usually played in Lacy’s voice was gone. Probably because this wasn’t going the way she had imagined at all. Probably because Eddie’s frown was directed at her, not me.
“Nothing,” I said, so calmly I surprised myself. After her accusations, I thought I’d be ready to physically fight the woman, but my hand didn’t even twitch. No desire to punch her in her beautiful, perfect face. Instead, I got up and wondered “What is your problem, Lacy?”
“Sorry?” she spat, eyes narrowing.
“What. Is. Your. Problem?”
“You are!” Which kind of just bubbled out of her, like she couldn’t bite her tongue anymore. And like she wasn’tmybiggest problem.
She huffed, the sound self-righteous as she slung her messenger bag across her shoulder. “You are, Paula Castillo. With your beautiful hair and perfect writing and that awkwardly charming way that just magically opens doors for you!” Her head shook, disturbed by her own list. “I mean, just look at you. Mark actively went against your record; said you didn’t print what he said. And still! Like an annoying little cockroach, you’re still here! Writing the profile of the year for a man half the country will probably talk about soon.” A shrill groan followed her rambling and her hands disappeared in her long blonde hair.
I found it ironic. That Lacy was jealous of me when I’d been jealous ofhersince the moment I’d started at theHBP. Because everything seemed to come easily for her—friends, projects, words. Effortlessly pretty and successful washerthing. Not mine.
But that I’d somehow seemed talented and beautiful enough to be envied, didn’t make up for the fact she’d just said my source’s name.Thatsource’s name. Mark.
She must not have noticed the slip-up yet. I think Eddie had.
I exchanged one look with him before turning to Lacy. “I keep my list of sources under lock and key,” I said slowly. “Use alibis, delete emails.” And I could see the exact moment it dawned on her. The moment in which Lacy Halloway realized she’d made a mistake. Said too much, too quickly, too passionately—and fucked up.
“Everyone knew it was Mark!” She desperately tried to salvage the situation. Her gaze searched for help from our editor, who was grimly watching from the other side of the desk. He did not give it to her.
“No one knows that,” he said, equally slowly and carefully as I had. And he was right. The only reasonheknew were my desperate attempts to convince him that I’d written exactly what Mark had told me. Unsuccessfully.
The only reason Henry had known was that he’d suggested the man himself.
Lacy’s bottom lip quivered, and in the seconds of silence that followed, she tried to contain it. None of us said a word. I, for one, didn’t even breathe.
The situation was so delicate, the unsaid accusation hanging in the air like thick smoke. And it would be the proverbial nail in the coffin of Lacy’s bright career prospects.
Because if she really did what we were all thinking—if she’d manipulated a source, bribed them or got them to lie on therecord through whatever other means, just to stop my streak of good journalistic luck… hers was about to run out, then.
Lacy moved toward the door, and I’d been sure she’d leave without another word. But she paused in the doorway. Turned across her shoulder, eyes fixed on me. Her nostrils flared, cheeks a blotching red. “You should ask your boyfriend how I know about Mark Lager.”
Only then, after wreaking havoc in my life once more and throwing the pieces I’d so meticulously sorted through in the past few weeks, back into my face, did she leave.
Me, dumbfounded, confused and angry at a man who wasnotmy boyfriend.
The insinuation lingered between the two of us awkwardly. I was still frozen by Eddie’s desk, and he tried to keep busy by sorting through the pictures of Henry and me. Pictures I didn’t want to see right then—of us smiling and laughing and staring at each other.
As if he hadn’t given Lacy my source. Her insinuation had been so obvious—
Eddie cleared his throat. “I’ll get her back in here tomorrow.” He commented on her departure. “And I’ll get that SPJ record of yours cleared, don’t worry.” His gaze swung from the empty, open door to me. “But there’s probably something you want to take care of now?”
