A New Life in Lawrenceville

Chapter 2

I knocked on the door of the editor's office and heard him shout out, "The door is open!"

I stepped inside and looked over his office. Papers were scattered all over his desk and floor. It seemed to be the remnants of some sort of natural disaster. So, in other words, it looked like any other editor's office. He raised his arm and waved me over to him. "Come in Mr. Dodge," He shouted, "I'm Miller, the editor. Thrilled to see you have finally joined us."

I walked over to where Miller's desk was. "Thank you, sir," I said, "I am thrilled to be here too."

He then pulled out two small cardboard boxes, each containing a burger and fries. His eyes evaded mine in embarrassment. "Forgive me," He said awkwardly, "Our budget is a bit tight so this is the best I could do for a complimentary lunch welcoming you to our newspaper."

I chuckled slightly and replied, "It is quite alright sir. I'm rather used to fast food. It is convenient for our line of work. We always have to be on the move to get a good story."

"I like your attitude!" Miller responded enthusiastically to me from his desk. I began to eat my burger as he continued. "I must say I'm still quite surprised a reporter of your caliber wants to work at the Lawrenceville Herald."

I thought for a moment, wanting to choose my words carefully. "I see it as a great opportunity sir," I replied, "Mainstream news is little more than celebrity gossip and political squabbling. It is local newspapers like this that truly meaningful stories can be found."

Miller was quiet for a moment. "That is very well put. You certainly have a way with words," He said.

"I wouldn't be much of a reporter with a limited vocabulary sir," I replied.

He laughed and slapped his knee. Miller certainly had a cheery outlook for such an overworked man. I suppose if someone loves what they do enough, their work can become a pleasure in and of itself. That never was the case for me though. Work was always just an escape. Something to keep my mind busy. Whatever pleasure it had given me in the past had been burned away a long time ago. It is the real reason for my coming to a newspaper that is so lackluster. Of course, I could not let Miller know that.

I had finished my lunch with Miller and stood up. He then spoke up, "I have an assignment for you if you would be willing to go ahead and get started."

"Certainly. What can I do for you sir?" I asked.

"There is an amateur baseball game at the stadium across town. I have a ticket for you. If you could do an article on the game, that would be great," He said.

I nodded and accepted the ticket.

"While you are on your way there; would you mind giving another reporter a ride? Misty writes our arts and culture section, and she needs to be dropped off at a local craft fair. Her van is broken down and she could use the lift. It is on your way," Miller's eyes looked at me almost pleading.

Not wanting to get the disapproval of my new boss, I accepted the additional task. I walked out of his office and began passing each door motel room door until I found the one marked with Misty's name. I noticed a faint scent of cannabis outside her door. As I knocked, I looked above her door and saw a sign that said, "Spread the love."

The door opened, and I now was face to face with Misty. She had long blonde hair and wore sunglasses, jeans, and a blouse that seemed to have some sort of tribal design on it. The scent of cannabis grew stronger as she smiled at me, making the peace sign with her hand. She said, "Welcome brother."

I stepped inside and saw that the walls of the room had been painted with every color conceivable. It seemed to be somewhat reminiscent of tie dye. "I'm Albert Dodge," I said looking around, "Miller asked me to give you a ride to the craft fair."

She laughed slightly. "Far out man," She replied, "Let me go get my things and we can head out."

I watched as she went to a closet to grab some items. I looked around the room some more. I took a closer look at the paint job she did on the walls. At first, it appeared to be simply formless splatters of various colors of paint. However, as my eyes traced the details of the wall, I noticed shapes that looked like hands, feet, and in some cases the vague shape of a feminine body.

As Misty approached me holding her purse, she noticed my staring at her walls. "Do you dig it man?" She asked. "I wanted my space to be an expression of myself. What better way to do that than to actually paint it with my body?"

I attempted to avert my eyes of some of the more sexual characteristics imprinted on the walls. "I see," I said somewhat hesitatingly, "That is certainly quite creative."

She giggled, seemingly pleased by the awkwardness I felt. I got the sense that she enjoyed the attention brought about by her noticeable personality and actions. "Let's begin our journey brother," She started to walk outside, and I followed her, sneaking a few glances at some of the naughtier parts of the walls when she wasn't looking. Once outside, I guided her to my car, and we started our trip.