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“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “There was a delay with the bus. Some crazy dude tried to start a fight with another crazy guy at the Chinatown stop, and I forgot to charge my phone so I couldn’t text.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “You’re not that late.”
“Ten minutes early is late, my dad always said,” she muttered.
“Your father prized timeliness,” I said. “Mark of a good businessman.”
“He did,” she said. “Even when it was impossible, he would do everything possible never to be late to anything. If I was late to work, I got the worst side-jobs, so I picked it up quick. Quicker than Lena at least.”
“Interesting. It’s always curious the differences between twins. People often lump them together like they are the same person,” I said.
“Couldn’t be more different,” I said. “I mean, we have lots of things in common from being related and all, but she’s a very different person than me. I’m much more sportsy and active and ambitious. She’s a lot more artsy and yet weirdly more serious. We’re super close though. I figure together we make one really functional human.”
“I think you’re quite the functional human on your own,” I said. “So, yesterday, we were talking and had to hurry off before we ended, but you were saying something about working for the Globe?”
“Ahh, yeah,” she said. “That’s the goal, or was at least.”
“As a journalist, I expect? Not as an editor?”
“I don’t know, honestly. I never really think much beyond the next goal.”
“That’s actually a good idea,” I said. “Keep your entire focus on the next goal. The goal after that will come along surely enough.”
“Right,” she said, her eyes sparkling. I loved when she talked about her interests and hopes. She came alive in a way that I had never seen anyone be like, except maybe myself when I first started this job. “Well, the next goal would be reporting. After that, who knows. But getting in is hard. It’s kind of a closed club, and unless I’m willing to do online work forever, and hope I get noticed or break something huge, I’m kind of stuck.”
“So, what’s the plan?”
“Build a warchest,” she said. “I mean, right now, that’s kind of impossible. I have to help pay off the debts at the pub. But after that, I was going to build up some money so I could take a year and just spend it relentlessly working as a freelance reporter. The more I can make and save, the longer I can do that, and hopefully, by the end, I’ll land somewhere.”
“I see,” I said. “So, this job, it’s building your warchest?”
“It will eventually,” she said, her smile fading a little. “Might be a long while before then, though. Crap, we’re out of time.”
I looked at my watch in surprise. It certainly hadn’t felt like that much time had been spent.
“Alright, well, let’s get going,” I said.
Instinctively, I held out my hand for her to take and my eyes fell on one of the interns. She was standing at the counter, waiting on an order, and I wasn’t sure if she had seen us yet. But she was there.
“Who’s that?” I asked, nodding at her.
“Stacy,” she said with a small sigh. “She works for Mr. Cleveland. He mostly has her doing stuff out of the building though.”
“That would be why I barely recognize her,” I said. “The only one of Bobby’s interns I recognize anymore is Joey, who’s been with us for a year now. The others are seemingly interchangeable.”
“Probably,” she said. “She’s wicked smart though. Graduated top of her class from VCU down in Virginia. I think Bobby has her doing mostly errands at this point. I don’t know why.”
“Weird,” I said.
She was an attractive girl. Tall, blonde, all the markings of a girl who Bobby would otherwise like aesthetically. That was probably why he had her out of the office so much. He didn’t want to tempt himself. I was starting to understand why.
Just after we had walked out of the door, I turned back toward the coffee shop and saw Stacy the Intern come out, carrying two coffees.
“Damn.”
“What?” Julia asked.
“We have eyes on us at six o’clock.”
