Inside her purse, her phone vibrated. Pulling it out as she stepped onto the elevator, she didn't realize Donna was already inside as she read the message from Eric. Dinner?
Donna pushed between two men in suits to join her. "I had the most amazing thing happen!" she gushed, not waiting for Jessica to respond. "You'll never guess—"
Jessica smiled and put her phone away, grateful for Donna's blathering. She'd answer Eric and she would answer yes. Maybe she would tell him about Worth and the bathroom and maybe she would just tell him about the new column. He might seem interested, or he might not be interested at all. They would have a pleasant enough evening, but she didn't have to reply immediately. Soon, but not just yet.
She could still smell Worth's cologne.
Chapter 5
Eric
Jessica realized that Donna was still talking to her as the elevator stopped at their floor and they got off, but she wasn't paying attention until she heard a familiar name.
"And then Eric said the funniest thing I'd ever heard," Donna said. The memory sent her into a fit of giggles.
"Eric who?" Jessica asked as they settled in at their cubicles. She glanced at her appointment calendar. She'd need to shuffle some things if she was going to add a column to the feature stories she'd started. She'd already put some feelers out for new stories. She looked around the room. Now, whom should I send to interview?
Donna was standing by her desk, perplexed.
"What's the matter, Donna?" the sports guy from one desk over called, throwing a well-aimed paper airplane that hit her square in her somewhat boyish chest.
Donna ignored him, running to Jessica's desk. "Oh. My. Gosh!" she squealed. "I met the most amazing guy and I don't know his last name!"
Jessica was dying to tell her about lunch, but Donna was so distraught, she felt sorry for her. "Shall I call a sketch artist? Maybe we can ID him another way?" She was hoping to get Donna giggling again, but she looked ready to cry at any minute.
"I was trying to catch up to Debra in payroll, but the smell of an absolutely perfect hot dog caught my attention. I was standing in line when this very nice guy came up behind me. Naturally, I smiled—"
"Naturally," Jessica interrupted.
"And we struck up a conversation. He'd come downtown to surprise his girlfriend because they'd kind of had a fight, he said, but she was already gone," he said, "and then he saw her at a restaurant with another man. And I said, 'her loss,' and he laughed, and anyway, we ended up sitting by the fountain eating our hot dogs and laughing." Her face clouded. "I thought he might ask for my number, but—"
His name was Eric. Jessica had felt a slight churn in her stomach at the mention of Eric's name but had instantly comforted herself with the assurance that there must be a million Erics in the city. A few dozen, at any rate. The fact that this Eric had come to surprise a girlfriend he saw with someone else, though. That sounded like too much of a coincidence.
"What's he look like?" she asked innocently. She'd been at the magazine for such a brief time, she had neither brought in many personal items yet nor arranged the ones she had. A photograph of Eric was, she knew, in a top drawer. Why hadn't she put it out, first thing? She could just pull it out and show her, but—
"He's a ginger," she grinned with delight. "Nice, clean face. Deep blue eyes."
Jessica blew out a breath. "Red hair." Donna nodded. "No facial hair. You're sure?"
That made Donna giggle, finally. "Silly. I think I'd have noticed a beard if he had one, don't you?"
Jessica joined her in the laugh, relieved. "Well, it's his loss if he didn't get your number. Hopefully, he noticed which building you work in and will try to find you again."
The day went by fairly well. There were a few calls from the local newspaper to reporter buddies, still a bit of a buzz about the Gallagher case. Someone said his mother said it sounded like something she'd heard when she was a little girl, but most of the office gossip surrounded the new owner, new editor, and speculations about shake-ups and shakedowns. Until there was a formal announcement, Jessica decided she shouldn't volunteer any information. Everyone had been there much longer than she had, and they might not like her "promotion.” She guessed it was that, anyway. It felt like that.
Throughout the room, the sound of an in-office memo dinged on every computer screen. The new editor would be meeting with the staff in the morning at nine. If there were any conflicts, people were asked to adjust schedules accordingly.
"Maureen always gave more notice than that," she heard someone say. Frank, from business.
"Yeah, well, Maureen's been saying she wanted to retire," another voice chimed in. Callie, entertainment, Jessica guessed. She was still learning everyone's names. "This is probably a good thing in her book. I wonder what kind of a deal she got?"
"Who's this guy Vincent, anyway? Someone the owner handpicked? Probably doesn't know the first thing about magazines, either of them."
Jessica said nothing. The gossip was held to a low roar in case one of "them" was around, someone who might tell, someone who had a connection. I guess I'm one of "them,” she thought all of a sudden. I met him, anyway. Oh boy, did I. And he's sorry about it.
It still stung, even though she appreciated his obvious chagrin. It's not that she was that stereotype who had a nice guy and wanted a bad boy. Anyway, someone who practically fell over himself apologizing, sending flowers, vowing to never do such a thing again—not exactly bad boy material.
Her cell phone vibrated
