Melanie is an ambitious journalist ready to make a name for herself at one of Canada's most prestigious news agencies. But when her handsome one-night stand turns out to be her new boss, all of Melanie's careful plans come tumbling down.
...
whatever it takes / because I love the adrenaline in my veins
take me to the top, I'm ready
***
After our meeting, Trisha hands us off to our senior editors, who spend the rest of the morning coaching us through the way journalism works at The Press.
I was hired to the team that reports about crime. My senior editor, Roger, is an older guy in his early 60s. He's gruff and experienced but I can tell there's a streak of dark humor running through him. Necessary, I guess, for the guy in charge of covering all the bad stuff that goes on in the world.
I try my hardest to focus on the job, not anything else. I make friends with the other staff writers on my team. Marcus writes about financial crime. Lydia reports on international. Seth covers Canada.
But at the back of my mind, I wonder if I'll even still be here come the weekend. If I should even bother learning about my new job when I'm gonna have to pack up my stuff by the end of the week.
No. I refuse to give up so easily.
Just before lunch, Gavin's PA, Tiffany, who is young and slender and blonde, gives us our meeting times for this afternoon. I'm last. Great. By the time 2:30 comes around, I'll probably have died from the dread of it.
Over the break, I excuse myself from Steph and Ryan, who expect me to join them for lunch. I tell them I have to take a call. But really, it's time to come up with a plan.
I do some basic research on the Internet about HR and sexual harassment and labor laws.
Job termination after sexual relationship
A bunch of resources come up. My eyes take in article after article. Okay. So, you cannot be fired just for having a sexual relationship with a superior. That's called harassment.
But... oh. The next article says that relationships must be disclosed to HR.
Then there's blog-post by a nurse who says her colleagues treated her like shit after they found out she had slept with a hospital administrator. When she was promoted people assumed it was because of their relationship. It became so bad she had to quit and then no one wanted to hire her. Damn it.
When I join Steph and Ryan again, I plaster a smile on my face and try to look engaged as we talk about their assignment teams. I did not picture Steph as the kind of journalist who wants to be stuck covering Entertainment news. But it's clear she loves it. Celebrities and movies and music and sports. I guess she does have a thing for gossip.
Ryan is in Business and Economics. As soon as he starts talking about the Dow Jones I stop understanding what's going on.
Steph nudges me, her sandwich falling from her fingers. In a low voice she says, "Have you heard anything about Ashton?" She nods her chin secretly to where he sits across the lunch room, alone and staring at his phone.
I shrug. "I don't get him."
"Me neither!"
Ryan says, "He's assigned to Politics. So he must be good." He's right. Politics is one of those things reporters build prolific, successful careers reporting on. It was the most competitive position in the recent-grad program, right above Crime.
Steph raises an eyebrow. "Politics. Of course. He seems kinda slimy, doesn't he?"
Ryan and I can't help but laugh.
A little before half-past noon, she packs up her stuff and gives us a wink and a mischievous grin. "Wish me luck, friends. I have the first meeting with the oh-so-mysterious Mr. Stone." She leans in and whispers into my ear, "Mel, he is so fine. I just can't."
I roll my eyes, refusing to comment. But I can already picture his face, the dark waves of his hair and those haunting, sparkling blue eyes. There's a flutter low in my stomach from the memory of us, tangled together Friday night. I just can't, Steph said. Well, honey, I did.
And I'm probably going to spend the rest of my miserable life regretting it.
***
My stomach is in knots the entire afternoon. Roger gave me an assignment to work on, to explore drug trafficking in the Greater Toronto Area. It's a big job, and I sink my teeth into it, glad for the distraction.
The rest of the journalists for Crime are supportive and helpful. I look into past articles, reports from agents, photographs.
The deeper I dig, the more convoluted this lead seems. I love a good mystery.
Everything about this job is so damn perfect. My heart thuds painfully with the thought of giving it up.
When my watch reads 2:15, I step into the sparkling clean bathroom and take a good, long look at myself in the mirror.
My light brown hair falls, straight, just above my shoulders. My cheeks are a little pink from the nerves. My charcoal pencil skirt fits well and my white blouse doesn't have a single wrinkle. My foundation makes my skin look flawless. I touch up my lipstick and stand tall, meeting my own gaze through the glass. You are a professional.You can do this. It will be okay.
No it won't. But I have to try to save this job with everything in me.
***
Song credit: Imagine Dragons, "Whatever It Takes"
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