He laughs, and I pause at the mouth of the subway and take in a breath and then release.
“Okay, I gotta go and meet my doom. Will you call me later?”
There’s silence for a second, and then he says, “Absolutely. I love you.”
I take one more deep breath as I head down the stairs. “I love you, too.”
*
Half an hour later, when I arrive at the Pulse offices, I suspect the writing’s already on the wall for me. Every head turns my way the second I step in the door.
Shit. Not a good sign.
Despite his faults, Derek has a pretty good sense of people. He’s probably predicted what I’m going to do and informed everyone I’m not long for this office. That suspicion unnerves me more than I’d like.
As I mutter greetings to everyone, Toby peeks his head over the top of his cubicle, but before I can say hello to him, he ducks out of sight.
I walk over and find him hunched down in his chair. “What are you doing?”
He looks around and sits up, as if he didn’t know I was there. “Oh, Eden! Hi. How are you?” He stands and gives me an awkward hug. “Great to see you. Good to hear about Nan. I hear Asha’s coming home today? That’s fantastic. How’s everything? Good?”
“Toby.” He snaps his mouth closed. “What’s going on?”
“Going on? Nothing. Why? Everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You’re babbling. You only do that if you’re drunk or nervous, and since it’s not even lunchtime, I hope you’re not drunk.”
He blinks a few times then glances over at Derek’s office. “I can’t say anything. You’ll have to see Derek.”
“Is he suing me or something? I haven’t even told him about the story yet.”
“You’ll have to talk to him.” He’s like a damn chicken, looking everywhere but at me.
“Do you want to catch a bite afterward? Help me drown my blues? I’m buying.”
“Yeah, maybe. I have a lot of work. I’ll see.”
Now I know there’s something wrong. I’ve never known Toby to blow off a free lunch before.
“Tobes, please promise me that if I get fired, we’ll still be friends. Just because I no longer work here doesn’t mean we can’t hang out, right?”
That makes him focus on me, and he gives me a reassuring smile. “As if you could get rid of me that easily. I’ll always be there for you.”
“TATE!” I look over to see Derek standing in his doorway. “Let’s go. I don’t have all day.”
I give him a nod before turning back to Toby. “Okay. I’ll see you later, yes?”
He pats my shoulder. “Absolutely. Good luck.” I’m a little hurt Toby isn’t more distressed. Doesn’t he understand what’s at stake here? I’m about to beg a man who has the temperament of a cranky Rottweiler to allow me to go back to churning out memes, a job I’m terrible at and despise. And if I’m not successful, which I doubt I will be, Toby will lose his cubicle buddy forever. How is he okay with this?
As I walk into Derek’s office, everything seems to go into slow motion, and I swear I hear gallows drums. If he’s feeling generous, maybe Derek will allow me a last cigarette. Despite everything, if this ends up being my last day here, I’m going to miss this place. I really liked the people, not to mention a steady paycheck.
As I approach the door, I pull my shoulders back. I’ve been trying to prep myself all morning for Derek’s reaction to what I’m about to tell him. Maybe I should have worn a rain poncho just in case his head explodes with rage. I’ve heard brains are a bitch to get out of silk.
After closing the door behind me, I sit in the chair in front of his desk, and for once he’s not typing away on his tablet. He’s sitting calmly with his fingers steepled in front of his mouth, and he’s staring at me with those cold, gray eyes. I cross my legs and clear my throat, and I’m about to lay everything on the line when Derek says, “Nice dress.”
I look for the sarcasm in his tone but can’t find it. “Uh ... thanks. Nice ... uh ... haircut.” I’m not lying. For once his hair doesn’t look like he’s been pulling it out by the roots all day.
“I hear your grandmother is recovering well.”
“Uh, yes. Thanks. She loved your flowers.” I clear my throat. “So, Derek ...”
He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, a small smile curling the edges of his mouth. “You’re a sly one, Tate, I’ll give you that. You kick and scream for me to give you this assignment, then you bitch about protecting your sources, you tell me that you’re going to write a ball-shriveling scandal that will have New York’s social elite scrambling under the nearest rock, and then after I give you an extension on your deadline ... well, then you don’t deliver on any of it.”
Okay, so he already knows. I wonder if Toby told him, and that’s why he was acting so strangely. “I’m sorry, Derek. I really am. I know I haven’t given you what I promised.”
“No, you haven’t. But goddammit, woman, you’ve given me something better, and I wanted you to be here to see the reaction when it went up on the site. Honestly, I think it’s going to break records, Tate. My ass is tingling just thinking about it.”
I roll his words around in my brain for a second, hoping they’ll re-form into a different pattern that makes more sense, but they don’t.
“I’m sorry, what?”
He holds up his finger and looks at his watch. “Just be patient. It went live a few minutes ago, so any second now ...” He seems to hold his breath for a full five seconds, and then, as if on cue, every phone in the entire place starts ringing at once, including his.
He smiles, and it’s such a foreign expression on his face, it looks all wrong. “I knew it.”
He taps some keys on his computer then turns it around so I can see. Staring back at me, front and center on the Pulse Features page, is my story, and beneath it is a counter showing the number of clicks it’s receiving, as well as incoming traffic to the site.
“Jesus. It’s even better than I predicted. Look at this.” He brings up his inbox. “We’re already getting requests to use it on subsidiary sites. There’s one from the New York Times. This is insane.”
He continues tapping on keys and mumbling excitedly as I sit there in shock, my blood pressure getting higher every second. This can’t be happening. How is this happening?
In my purse, my phone starts vibrating, but I ignore it.
“Derek, how did you get that story?”