“Who do you like for the game?” the bartender asked as he wiped down the counter.
“I don’t follow college ball that much.”
“That’s smart. This town never had much of a team.”
Clifford nodded. Man, he had to get out of this place and he had to do it soon. He motioned for a refill.
There he was, picking up the scraps, George’s raggedy old stories. No big medical series for him. Oh, no. Mr. Jason gets the good stories and what he didn’t get Steve got, and then Cappy. And what did that get him day after day? He got shit. That’s what he got, shit.
And now this thing about overtime.
“How am I supposed to pay my bills?” he yelled at George. “You’re taking money out of my pocket. Am I working for free here or what?”
And, what did he get?
“It’s not my fault. Talk to Brown.”
That’s what he got.
Steve heard it all and what did he say?
“Nothing is going to change. Nothing is ever going to change.”
Oh yeah, something could change. He could get out of there. Yes, he could. Other photographers did. They came in one day and said, “I’m out of here. I got me a job in Denver,” or San Diego or Miami.
Look at Jason. He’d be going to DC or New York. He didn’t say anything, but he was looking. They all knew that, and he’d go. Cappy too. Steve would stay. He’d been big time once. Now he was drinking quiet and keeping his mouth shut.
And him? He was busy flapping his lips and going nowhere, no how.
He studied his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He was the blackest thing in this room, in this town. Now, what was that?
41
Tom Carter wasn’t about to forget Tony’s so-called joke. He knew these people too well. Tony makes a joke about someone being pregnant. George Harding says something about a stomachache. Brown makes excuses for her. They all knew what was going on and there was only one of them he could trust to give him a straight answer.
“Everything okay with you?” He tried to smile at Ellen Peters.
“Why not?” She knew he wanted something and he wasn’t going to get it from her. He never did, not unless she knew it would annoy him and not hurt anyone else.
“I’ve been checking your file,” he said. “I see you got a couple of vacation days from last year.”
“I know.”
“You should take them soon.”
“When I get a chance, I will.”
“Better make it soon,” he warned.
He nodded toward the room beyond the blinds. “Everything okay with that mob out there?”
“Same as usual. Everyone trying to get the hell out.”
“That so? Well, missy, they ain’t going to find any place better than The Best.”
“Probably not,” she muttered.
“What’s that?”
“I’m agreeing with you, Tom. They won’t find anyplace that’s any different from this.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve been around, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I have.” She looked up at the ceiling.
“Debbie Hanson called in sick today,” he told her. “You know anything about that?”
She gave a small sign of relief. She was right. Debbie was under the weather. Clifford had gotten crazy about the whole thing.
“I heard she had been having some flu problems or something,” he continued.
What was it he wanted?
“That better be all,” he added
“What?”
“I said,” he raised his voice, “that better be all it is. I don’t want no pregnant women in my newsroom.”
She stared.
“We ain’t that liberal here, missy. No unmarried pregnant women in this newsroom.”
She gave a short laugh.
“What makes you think she’s pregnant? She’s not pregnant. God.” She laughed again.
“Well, that’s not what I hear,” he leered at her.
Now her eyes were locked on his. Surprised, he thought, but not that surprised. So, there was something.
“I call ‘em’ like I see ‘em,” he said, “and it’s my business to know what’s going on out there.”
“First of all, if it were true,” she responded angrily, “it’s nobody’s business and second, you are all wrong on this one. Like the man said, consider your sources.”
“Where there’s smoke …,” he taunted.
“Tom, if you want to know anything about Debbie, you ask her, not me. And I’m telling you, it’s none of your goddamn business.”
“You watch that mouth of yours, missy,” he warned, pointing at her. “It is my goddamn business. If I’ve got a pregnant reporter, I’d better know it. And, I don’t want to hear talk about abortions either.”
“Abortion?” She shouted the word. “Who the hell said anything about abortion?” What did he know and how? “This is crazy, Tom. You are making something out of absolutely nothing and somebody could get hurt.”
“Yeah?” he smirked. “Well, I run this place and if you don’t like the way I’m doing it, there’s the door.” He signaled with his thumb.
A stab of fear kept her silent.
“You watch that mouth of yours, Peters, and you take those vacation days. You take ‘em soon. Take ‘em or lose ‘em.”
“Fine,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’ll take tomorrow off and Friday and Monday. That should make George happy.”
“Don’t tell me. I don’t keep the goddamn schedule. Gonna look for a job, Peters?” he asked as she reached for the door.
“I’ll give you a great recommendation,” he laughed.
She shut the door firmly behind her.
He reached for the phone. He was going to call that girl at home and she better be there, by God. He wanted to get this thing settled once and for all. He had other fish to fry.
42
She lay by the pool. A few people spoke to her as they passed her chair. Others sat down next to her.
“Nice day,” they said.
“Yes, it is,” she said.
“Been here long?”
“About a year.”
“I’m from Detroit. This is fantastic, swimming in March.”
“Sure is,” she agreed.
“Can’t wait to call home and tell them I’m down here by the pool.”
She could do the same, call her father and tell him she too was sitting by
