Page 60 of Pity Present
“I’m offering to be helpful,” she says. “I just want something in return.”
“Fine.” Gillian is nothing more than a cold-blooded reptile. “What do you want in return?”
“I want you to write about a woman at the event that you personally find interesting.”
She can’t possibly mean that. “Come again?”
“I want you to write a first-person account of someone you’ve met that you would be interested in dating.”
“That isn’t possible,” I tell her.
“Why is that, Blake?” Again, with her “teacher reprimanding a bad kid” tone.
“Because I’m not interested in dating anyone here.”Lies.
“It’s a good thing you’re there for another ten days then, isn’t it? You still have plenty of time to find someone.”
I stand up from the chair I’ve been sitting on and start pacing around the room. “What is wrong with you, Gillian?”
“Excuse me?” She sounds shocked that I’m standing up to her.
“Why can’t you just be a nice person and help a dying kid fulfill a last request? Why do you need to get something out of it?” At this point, I don’t care if she fires me.
“What’s wrong with being a nice personandgetting something out of it?” she wants to know.
“A nice person would be willing to do something for a terminally ill kid without having an ulterior motive,” I tell her.
“I’m the boss, Blake,” she says in that no-nonsense tone of hers that makes me see red. “Therefore, if I see a way to encourage my reporters to give me better stories, it’s my job to do so.”
A Hail Mary pass would be easier than bargaining with this woman. “What about journalistic integrity? What about reporting a story so that all sides are portrayed by a third party?”
“You’re writing a fluff piece for our weekly circular, Blake. You’re not doing any hard-hitting reporting here.”
Ouch.I know I’m not covering the Middle East peace talks but even so, there should be ground rules. “So, you’re looking for tabloid journalism?” Take that, Gillian.
“Call it whatever you want, Blake. But if our readers are not entertained by what we give them, they won’t continue to read our publication.”
“People read the news for news,” I remind her.
“People read the supplemental magazine for entertainment,” she responds. “So, if you want those tickets, you’ll supply me with one article that is fully about your personal experience at thesingles’ event and give our readers a firsthand account of what it’s really like.”
“What if I don’t meet anyone that I’m interested in?” I almost whine, trying desperately not to sound as pathetic as I feel.
“Then make her up,” Gillian says. “I’ll need your answer right now because it’s going to take some time to finesse those tickets.”
I am so steaming mad that I want to tell her what she can do with her job. In fact, I’m so disillusioned I would happily move back to LA and beg for my position back there. I haven’t even unpacked my boxes yet, so it wouldn’t be any harder than calling a mover.
But if I did that, I know I would never be able to get Ben those tickets.
“I’ll write the article,” I tell her. “But I want five tickets.”
“Why five? You said you just needed them for the kid and his parents.”
“I want five because I’m going to go to the game too and I might bring someone else.”
She laughs. “Ah, the woman you’re not interested in?”
“I was thinking about asking my dad,” I tell her. There’s no way Molly is ever going to want to see me again after I write an article about us in the paper. And while I could fabricate someone else, I know the story will only be as good as the heart and soul put into it. For that, I’m going to need to base it on reality. For that, I’m going to need Molly.
