Gaines.'
11
The newsroom of the New York Gazette felt like home.
And after leaving Bend, a place I never truly thought of as one, I needed a new home. Many of the reporters I considered friends, and even those I clashed with, like
Frank Rourke, had started to attain a certain grudging respect for me. I'd started here under the worst circum stances imaginable. Fresh out of college, anointed the golden boy right off the bat, and immediately embroiled in a scandal that threatened not only the integrity of the paper but my life. It's no secret which of those things most reporters considered of predominant importance.
I exited the elevator and made my way down the hall.
Evelyn Waterstone saw me rounding the corner. I gave a halfhearted wave, and she snorted like I'd just pulled my pants down in the middle of the cafeteria. Evelyn was never one for endearing gestures.
Making my way to Wallace's office through the sea of dropped pens, smells of ink, paper and clothing still fresh from its wearer's most recent smoke break, I looked up to see Tony Valentine approaching.
Tony's face erupted in a toothy smile as he sped up to meet me. I took a breath, prepared for whatever verbal bath I was about to get. Tony was wearing a blue pin-striped suit with a yellow tie. His face looked extra orange today. Either he'd fallen asleep in the tanning bed, or his mother had mated with a pumpkin.
That wolf's mouth open in a wide smile, perfect, gleaming teeth. Nobody in their life had ever been so happy to see me.
It was impossible to avoid him, so I sucked it up and prepared myself.
'Henry!' Tony shouted with the glee of a man who found a rolled-up hundred in his pocket. 'Listen, my man, it's good to see you back here. I've heard some bad things about you and your pops, and you always assume the worst. So I'm glad to see you're okay, my man.'
'Wait,' I said, holding my hand up. 'What did you hear about 'me and my pops'?'
'Oh, this and that,' he said cryptically.
'Oh yeah? And who are these sources of yours?'
'Please,' Tony said. 'You have your channels of in formation and I have mine. Let's leave it at that. But listen, my man, I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a lawyer who reps all the celebrities when they, shall we say, stray on the wrong side of the law.
Remember how Paris Hilton got released from prison after serving an hour for her DUI? That was my bud.'
'Didn't she have to spend a month in there after the judge sent her back?'
'Wasn't my friend's fault. Judge was an idiot. Can't luck out every time, but you can pay for the best luck possible. Hey, and keep your head up, because they're salivating for scandal over at the Dispatch. '
'That surprises me about as much as the sun rising.'
This didn't come as a shock to me, since Paulina
Cole had all but made it her duty to end my career. So far the only surprise was that it hadn't been plastered over the front page. Since my only use for Tony Valen tine was as a font of information, I decided to play along.
'Out of curiosity, my man, why haven't they moved on the story?'
'Oh, they've moved on it all right,' he said, running his hand flat along the air like a traveling car. 'Right now it's buried on page nine. Word is Ted Allen is still basking in their Jack O'Donnell scoop. He thinks pouncing on you too hard will make them look vindic tive and undercut their efforts to shut us down. So they're waiting until the trial gets under way, and based on how the evidence looks, they'll report accordingly.'
I felt a knot rise in my stomach. Ted Allen ran the
Dispatch, and since Paulina Cole worked for him, I was never far off their radar. The evidence looked pretty bad. Hopefully Tony didn't have sources at the police department that would spill details. I trusted the man as far as I could throw his veneer, but it was always good to be prepared for whatever came next. I had no doubt my father would get beaten in the press, but knowing what was coming could soften the blow.
I thanked Tony and continued on. I knew his direct line, just in case.
Waving hi to Rita, Wallace Langston's secretary, I walked into his office. We both likely knew what was coming, but that didn't make it any easier. At least I could be thankful that this would probably hurt us both equally. Wallace was wearing a brown sport jacket. I recognized the coat. A few months ago he'd chewed his pen too deep during a meeting and the blue ink spilled all over the breast. He'd gotten it cleaned the next day, but the stain didn't wash out fully. Now a small, quartersize blue circle remained.
He didn't seem to care, and nobody else did. We all knew Wallace had much bigger things to worry about, and Lord knew how many other stains and abrasions existed where we couldn't see. Oddly enough, we re spected him for that. To Wallace, the work was more im portant than the gloss, the ink more important than anything. So we didn't mention it.
Other than the occasional chewed-to-death pen we left on his desk as a friendly reminder.
Wallace looked up when he saw me come in. His lips were tight beneath the closely shaved beard. His eyes were bloodshot, as usual. He was hardly a peppy man, unless he was excited about a story. And bad news seemed to take him over like a death shroud. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and unfortunately I'd had far too many experiences piercing that heart.
I hoped it was strong enough for one more.
'I need some time off,' I said.
Wallace nodded. I was right. He knew this was coming.
'I'm sorry about your father. But I don't think that's the right decision.'
'He's innocent,' I said. 'I need to help prove it.'
Wallace nodded again. Not at the information, but because he respected my feelings. 'I imagine it might be tough to work under those circumstances.'
'Probably right,' I said.
'Might also help keep you focused,' Wallace said.
'I don't pretend to know everything about you, Henry.
But I know what you live for. You take that away, even for a little while, you forget who you are.'
'The past few days have shown me that I don't even know who I am.'
'If you want time,' Wallace said, 'I can give you a leave of absence. Or, you can stay on the job. Do what you need to, but keep your nose to the grindstone anyway.
Some of the best work reporters do is during times of crisis. If that's too much to ask, I understand. But it might also be good for you. Give you another outlet.'
'I don't know,' I said, considering what Wallace was saying. 'I need to do what feels right here. And right now I don't know what that is.'
'What's right to one man is wrong to another. You over anyone should know that by now. Every villain is the hero of their own story, Henry. If your father is innocent, somebody killed Stephen Gaines for a reason that they felt was justified. If you can aid his defense, that's a noble deed. I don't want to sway you. But I've seen too many young reporters get lost in the chaos. You have a great career ahead of you. You end up in the middle of trouble more than anyone I've ever known.
And you can either use that, work with it, or you can let it consume you. You do what you want, Henry.'
I nodded. Wallace was right. And in the past, he'd always stood by me. I'd like to think I'd earned his trust through hard work, and that even if I did get myself into the occasional-okay, regular-scrape, it would be because I was doing the right thing.
'With Jack and I both gone,' I said, 'that's a big hit.'
'Don't I know it. Hey, I never said I didn't have the paper's interests in mind, too.'
The way Wallace said it, he wanted me to know he had more on his mind than a simple lack of writers. The
