“Of course I have,” Olivia protested.
The woman looked down at her sandals and shuffled from one foot to the other. “Haybee is a socialist. He hates the corporate world. There's no way he'll talk to you, especially since what's his name lied to him.”
“Mark?”
“Yes, Mark. He should have known better than to lie.”
“Let me just see if I understand correctly. Haybee won't talk to the mainstream media.”
“You've got it.”
“May I ask who you are?” Olivia said.
“His wife, Afraxo.”
“I understand. I'm sorry Mark lied to you. I'm just a junior journalist, and it's my first day at work today.”
A door to her left opened, and a tall, dark man came into the foyer. “What's your name?” he asked.
“Olivia Halfpenny, Mr. Haybee,” Olivia answered.
“You are a liar, and the rag you work for is a cheap, gossip-laden pile of shit.”
Olivia's heart rate picked up. “Er...I'm sorry you feel like that...”
“So you should be. I'm going to call your bosses and have you fired. You lied to us to get up here, didn't you? Don't think I was born yesterday. Do you know how low it is to pretend you are delivering family news when all you really want is an interview? Now leave before I call the cops.”
When Olivia stepped back into the office, Gretta shouted at her, “Get yourself in here now.” Olivia entered her office and Gretta closed the door. “Your first day and I'm already getting calls complaining about your behavior. Why did you do it?”
Olivia looked at Gretta's face. It was red with rage. “Sorry. I just thought I could make him change his mind and do an interview.”
“Oh you did, did you? What makes you so special? Why did you think he would talk to you?”
“I don't know. I was only trying to help.”
“But you won't help if all you do is antagonize people.”
“But Haybee's philosophy is all wrong. He won't talk to the press. He calls us part of the dangerous corporate world. What he doesn't know is that all those people who buy his records are part of that world as well.”
Gretta lowered her spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose. It had been a long day, and she was worried about what she was going to fill her magazine with.
“Okay. If you feel there is an argument against his stance, write it. If it's good, I'll publish it.”
“Really?” Olivia said.
“Yes. You're right. He needs to be taught a lesson. He should realize he can't treat us like this. Write it.”
*****
“Maureen, come here a moment please.” Maureen tottered into Daniel's office on incredibly high heels and waited. “Who is Jenny Jones?”
“Er...I have no idea.”
“Have you read this article?” he asked. Maureen walked around his desk and looked at the copy of New York Street Scene that lay in front of him.
“No.”
“It is the most wonderfully written piece I have read in a long time. This woman, whoever she is, is a genius. It's a stinging criticism of Haybee and his double standards. And the best bit,” he said, pointing a finger to a long paragraph, “she says I'm an inspiration to the youth of America.”
Maureen looked at him and wondered when it was going to be her turn. She so wanted him to make love to her. He'd had Tracy and Emma; surely she would be next. “That's great,” she offered.
“Get hold of Gretta at NYSS and ask her to get Jenny Jones to Skype me.”
Maureen disappeared for a while. Daniel swiveled his leather chair to the left and looked out of window and across the Boston skyline.
“She refuses to talk to you,” Maureen said.
“What?”
“Gretta asked her to Skype you, but she refused. I don't know why.”
“Does she know who I am?”
“I think she does but, she won't do it.”
“Who the hell does she think she is? I'm her boss. Tell her to Skype me or I'll fire her.”
Maureen left and came back a few minutes later with a wide grin on her face. “Mr. Raleigh, she says you can stick your job up your...er...ass if you so want. She's not going to speak to you.”
“When am I next in New York?”
Maureen looked it up on the schedule. “On Tuesday, next week.”
*****
“Gretta, lovely to see you. How are things?” Daniel asked.
“Okay. We're doing fine. Sales are steadily increasing and advertising revenue is up, so I can't complain. I'm very happy with the newspaper's performance.”
“Where's Jenny Jones?”
“Who?”
“Jenny Jones. I want to talk to her.”
“Ah, sorry. I forgot that’s a pen name. Her real name is Olivia Halfpenny.”
Daniels's eyebrows raised as he remembered her name, her body, and how much he'd enjoyed gorging on the delights she'd had to offer. “Olivia Halfpenny.”
“Do you know her?” Gretta asked when it sounded as if he recognized her name.
“I believe I do. Go and get her, and give us a meeting room. I want a chat with her.”