“Yep,” I let my lips pop around the word. He stood there, his hands shoved into his pockets, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip anxiously. I should have been pleased that he was uncomfortable. Reveling in how off balanced I made him but all I felt was sad that two people who used to love each other were now barely speaking.
A woman who was all business saved us. She barely looked at us as she introduced herself as Diane Carleton. She was the assistant editor and would be showing us around. This was all told in the briefest way possible, with minimal interaction. She seemed irritated that she was the one tasked with intern duty. I got it. We were the peons at the bottom of the shit pile. And we were going to be treated accordingly.
That was fine. I appreciated knowing exactly where I stood in the grand scheme of things. No surprises. I could function in that sort of environment. It’s what I was comfortable in.
Despite the frosty greeting, I couldn’t help but get excited as we walked through the bustling newsroom full of chatter and ringing telephones. It was a hive of activity and I hummed with it. This was my scene. This is what I wanted to do with my life. This is where I belonged.
“And here are your desks. Sorry you’ve got such a crappy workspace but the building is undergoing major renovations. And since you’re on the low rung of the ladder, you get this,” Diane said, not sounding sorry at all as she indicated three desks shoved into a corner beside a large plastic sheet that separated the usable work space with a demolition zone.
It was loud. Sounds of construction and loud voices would make it virtually impossible to concentrate. But I didn’t care. I would go home covered in plaster dust every day but I was here, and that’s what mattered.
I dropped my purse on one of the desks. “How long are the renovations going to last?” I asked, wincing over the ear splitting sounds of drills and nail guns.
“Longer than you three will be here,” she replied with a patronizing smile. “I’ve put folders on your desk detailing the history of the newspaper as well as your duties and responsibilities. There is a code of ethics as well as our work policies that you will need to read and sign off on. When you’re finished bring the paperwork to me. You’ll be assigned your jobs for the week after you bring me everything.” Diane had already started walking away, leaving us.
“Well this is a lot less glamorous than I thought it would be,” Gracie pouted, sitting down in one of the office chairs with a sigh. I rubbed at my temples, feeling the beginning twinges of a headache. The noise level was painful
“Yeah, well, we just need to suck it up and remember this is the best internship at Rinard,” I reminded her. Damien had already sat down and was reading the information in his folder. Following suit, I started to thumb through the material we were expected to go over. I tried not to feel deflated, particularly as I read that most of our “duties” would involve glorified gopher tasks.
The commotion behind the plastic sheet behind us was extremely distracting. I read the same sentence at least a dozen times before I closed the notebook with a decisive bang. Coffee. I needed coffee.
Gracie wasn’t even reading. She was staring at the construction workers walking back and forth beyond her desk. She had that dreamy look on her face as she ogled the guys hefting their sledgehammers as they took down one of the partition walls. They weren’t even that cute, but it didn’t take much to get Gracie’s attention.