10: In Which She Closes a Chapter

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10: In Which She Closes a Chapter

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Author’s Note at the end =)

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“Where’ve you been, Jones?” Arthur Woodstock snapped, stubbing the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray somewhere in the midst of his cluttered desk.

“Lunch,” I mumbled, taking the seat he offered me opposite his. Arthur was the paper’s newest editor; a real arrogant prick no one liked. He enjoyed rejecting any story the majority of us pitched on account of them being “boredom inducing”.

Actually, I’d been visiting Erin’s grave; I’d been there every Friday afternoon for months now. It was strange how, whenever I ventured there, I found that someone had already left lilies for her. To be honest, it gave me the creeps.

“Well, I got something special for you,” Woodstock said, his eyes gleaming. They were almost black and beadier than a button.

“Yes?”

“You know that funky French restaurant everyone’s always raving about?” Woodstock unwrapped the tinfoil of his sandwich. “Pleasure, I think.”

“Plaisir,” I corrected automatically. “What about it?”

“Uh-huh. It’s closing down.”

My ears pricked. “Oh? Why?”

“Really interesting story, Jones. Who knew the restaurant world had some shady characters?” Woodstock chuckled, taking a huge bite into his sandwich. Gooey mayo now dribbled down his two chins. “Apparently, the accountant there was dipping a finger into the restaurant’s bank account. And his partner was none other than one of the waitresses!”

I stared at him blankly. “And?”

“And I want you to go the conspiracy angle, Jones! Besides, I knew Samuel Ritter. Real jackass,” he continued, licking each of his fingers and making a smacking sound. I didn’t like the way he was referring to Stephen’s father but I bit my tongue. “Pleasure’s been around for years. It’s about time the whole thing fell,” he went on to say.

“Why would you want that?” I asked through clenched teeth, surprising myself by the hate I was directing at the fat bastard sitting across me.

“Maybe they were all sleeping together!” Woodstock exclaimed, completely ignoring me. “Maybe Ritter’s restaurant’s a front for his dirty dealings. So many possibilities!”

“I’ve never heard anything more idiotic in my life,” I spat. “I think the fast food and TV have gotten to your head.”

“What did you just say?”

“I’ve been offered a job at The Morning Star,” I said quietly, “and I think I’m going to take it. If cheap sensationalism is what you’re going to turn this paper into, I’m out.”

He reddened. “It’s a big story, Janelle.” This was the first time he’d ever used my first name. “You don’t understand... There are so many rumours making the rounds and –”

“And we’re not a tabloid.”

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“I think you’re a shithead.”

“You’re fired.”

“We both know that I quit.” I got to my feet, pointing a finger at him. “You want to turn this newspaper into sensationalist garbage and I won’t be around for it.”

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