Page 51 of Fake It For Glory

MERIDA

Icouldn’t put off going to the office any longer. As much as I had enjoyed my whirlwind week with Jensen, reality beckoned, and my work demanded my attention. I had played hooky far too many times, and it was time to catch up on everything I had neglected. I could only pretend I was working from home so many days.

My father’s text message yesterday was curt and to the point. It basically said my ass better be in my chair or I didn’t need to bother coming back. I couldn’t blame him. Fortunately, he gave me so little responsibility, I only needed a day to finish the article I had been slacking on. I wasn’t going to tell him I could get my work done in a day when he was paying me for a full week.

I grabbed my usual coffee at the little place on the corner. I noticed people looking at me. Men were actually checking me out. It was so abnormal. I kept looking down to make sure I didn’t forget to put pants on. The outfit was one Hattie picked out. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to wear the outfits when I wasn’t with Jensen, but Hattie made it sound like I could. It was a bold outfit for me, but it was normal for other people.

As I made my way through the bustling streets of downtown, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. It was exhilarating to be out in the world, dressed in this new way, and to feel the eyes of strangers on me. I had been so afraid to show off my curves. Hattie had unzipped my cocoon and I came out as a beautiful butterfly.

As I entered the building where our office was located, I felt a twinge of nervousness. What would my colleagues think of me? Would they judge me for the way I was dressed? I knew it was unlike anything I had ever worn before. I was bound to attract some attention.

I hoped.

As soon as I walked through the office door, I was bombarded by an excited Dalton. “You’re here!” His eyes practically sparkled with curiosity as he cornered me. “Where have you been? I thought you might have quit or gone underground.”

“I was working on that other job,” I said without saying too much.

He gently pushed me back a few steps. The rest of the office was already humming with the usual Monday morning craziness. “Merida, spill the beans!” he urged, practically bouncing on his toes. “Tell me everything you’ve learned about Jensen Loxley. Are you working on the story?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “It’s been a total whirlwind,” I began, my voice filled with excitement. “It’s only going to get crazier. He’s taking me to Paris in a week, then Dubai right after that. And in three weeks, we’re off to Singapore. It’s insane!”

I went on to tell him all about Saturday night, minus the sex of course. I quickly told him about the extravagant shopping spree and the surprising discovery that Jensen could be genuinely funny when he let his guard down. I found myself smiling as I spoke. The week with Jensen started off rocky, but I understood him better. I understood why he was so reluctant to talk to a reporter or anyone. He was afraid they wouldn’t see him. It was easy to talk to him and think he was arrogant and a jerk, but that wasn’t true.

Dalton’s expression was one of concern. I thought he would be happy for me. Instead, he carefully pulled me away from the bullpen area, walking me to Siberia, AKA my desk. “Merida, you’re making the most egregious mistake in the new journalist handbook.”

I blinked, trying to comprehend what he was telling me. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe what I had allowed myself to become entangled in. “You’re getting too close to your subject, Merida. You have to detach somehow. You can’t be a part of the story. You’re reporting on the man. Don’t get caught up with him. He’s the story. You’re falling under his spell.”

Dalton was right. Jensen was my topic, my headline, my big-break story. But as Dalton’s words sank in, I realized that I had let myself become enamored by the man behind the story, the whirlwind of glitz, glamor, and flashiness that had so quickly ensnared me. The sex. How could I forget the sex. It had been incredible.

“You’re right,” I said, sighing.

How had I let myself get caught up in all this? I had been so focused on proving my worth to my father, on achieving the story of a lifetime, that I had failed to see the line I was crossing. Jensen Loxley wasn’t just the funny guy whisking me away on a whirlwind trip around the world. He was my ticket to success, my chance to shine as a journalist. I was going to have to betray him, and that didn’t give me the warm and fuzzies. He told me people were always trying to take advantage of him and I was planning to do that.

“It happens,” he said, smiling. “He might be a good guy. Your piece doesn’t have to be a smear article, but it needs to be honest and unbiased. You can’t let your feelings for him dictate what you write. If that’s the kind of piece you’re going to write, it’s just another fluff piece. It’s not hard journalism. I thought that’s what you wanted to do.”

Dalton was right, and that realization weighed heavily on me. I had to find a way to detach and refocus. I needed to keep the boundaries between subject and journalist intact. The story was everything, and I couldn’t afford to let my emotions cloud my judgment any longer. I liked the man, but I needed to write an objective piece that stated facts.

“You’re right,” I said, sighing. “He is a good guy. I don’t want to badmouth him.”

“It’s not badmouthing if you write a piece that is honest,” he said softly. “Are you getting too close?”

“No.”

“Why are you spending time with him?”

I gnawed my lower lip. “It’s a good way to get information.”

“He’s paying you?”

“I have not taken any money from him,” I said. “But I took the job. It was the only way I could get close.”

He let out a low whistle. “Damn, girl, you are walking a fine line.”

“I haven’t actually taken the money,” I said. “I took the job, but I only get paid at the end of the contract.”

“Be careful,” he warned. “Are you going to do this anonymously?”