Page 11 of From Fling to Ring

She goes on to explain that layoffs are in the works, and that they will be handled as kindly and gently as possible. She will do all she can to make sure anyone who’s out of a job gets all the introductions she can make in order to keep their careers on track.

I eventually zone out on listening to her and flick the ends of my newly-cut hair, while I stare out the window at the fog blowing over the rooftop next door. Like a lot of people who grew up here, I find the low-lying clouds that hover above the city comforting. Most newcomers find it depressing and unsettling. It definitely takes some getting used to.

Before I know it, the conference room is pretty much cleared out, and scattered crumbs and crinkled napkins mark the places of the slobs who never clean up after themselves. I don’t feel like going back to my desk just yet, so I grab a trash can and make my way around the conference table, scooping the mess, as well as the pink pastry box, into the bin.

“I know you left me that donut,” Michaela says, startling me.

“Oh yeah. Well, I know what you like. They’re so good, aren’t they?” I say, finishing my tidying job.

I love cleaning.

She smiles at me. That’s either the I would never lay you off because I like you smile, or the even though I like you, I have to lay you off smile.

As confident as I am, something is feeling distinctly uncomfortable and I know things could go either way for me, just like everyone else on staff.

So I decide to make a pitch. Be invaluable. Secure my position here.

“Michaela, if you have a sec, I have an idea for us.”

I never say ‘me.’ It’s always ‘us,’ to prove I’m in this for the Right Reasons.

She props a butt cheek on the edge of the table. “Tell me,” she says with all the encouragement she always does.

“Well, first of all, I am lining up an interview with a hockey player from the Aftershocks, Tyler Brooks. The focus will be his on his volunteer work with local kids.”

She nods. “Yeah. I like it. Upbeat and positive. A nice contrast to the BS going on with the mayor.”

Oh yeah. The mayor. Andy Stackhouse. My bestie Petal’s former fiancé. Somehow the douchebag got elected and is now embroiled in some controversy about getting in trouble in college for plagiarism. If he hadn’t offended so many people, no one might have ever dug into his past to expose him.

Not my problem, though, and I’ll thankfully never be assigned to ‘cover him’ because Michaela knows I have ties to him. Such as they are. Being a bridesmaid in a wedding that fell apart at the altar gets you excused from certain things.

Yes, right there in front of God and everybody, Petal realized the guy was a cheating scumbag. She cussed him out and left him standing there, with Gilly and me trotting after her back up the aisle she’d just walked down. Our expensive bridesmaid dresses never even made it to the party.

All that wasted money.

“So Michaela, I was thinking that since I’ll be spending some time with this Brooks guy, maybe I can take things a step further.”

Michaela tilts her head. “Meaning?”

I take a seat in the chair closest to where she’s sitting on the table and lean back, all confidence. “I was talking to him at some hockey party my girlfriend invited me to, the one who’s married to one of the Aftershocks players. And while I was talking to him, he was looking around the room. Like he was trying to find a pretty girl, or at least someone better looking and more interesting than me. Or maybe someone who’d be an easy pick for a booty call.”

Michaela nods.

“What I’m saying is that the guy is a fuckboy. He thinks he’s hot stuff, and from the looks of the women fawning over him, there could be an interesting story about resisting his type. You know, kind of like the ultimate anti-romance guide. How to defy the approaches of a guy like him, the player, rather than succumbing to them.”

I smile like this is a done deal and all the smug I can muster surges through my veins. I have no doubt Michaela will think this is the best idea she’s heard all year. Maybe even ever.

I could not be more wrong.

“Lucy, I love how you’re always thinking. I wish everyone on the Freekly staff did that.”

Damn right.

“But… we don’t do relationship type stuff here. We’re not… Glamour magazine. We cover things like dirty bathrooms. Naked men at Bay to Breakers. Where to find the best weed and the kinky stuff that goes on at the Folsom Street Fair.”

Well, shit.

She had to mention the bathroom assignment. Of course. My hard-on for my brilliant idea goes from raging, to limp and shriveled. Just like the old naked men at Bay to Breakers.

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