Page 63 of Playing With Fire

Jodi’s gaze did not waver. “I did ask you to write the story,” she said grimly. “And you did a good job. Did your research, asked the right questions, poked the bear, and did an impressive number of interviews as well.”

Dougie preened a little. “I wanted to show you that I could do more than write up the council minutes and the Little League scores.” Disappointment flashed across his face. “And no one seems to care about the kangaroo cull.”

Jodi ignored the antipodean distraction. “And you did, Dougie. In fact, I’ll admit right now that I expected you to be stuck on the phone and online for at least a couple of days to get this story. I imagined that you would send me a draft, and I would give you a few pointers and suggest more sources and different angles.”

The next words came through gritted teeth. “Those pointers would include a reminder that adjectives are like salad dressing, Dougie. To be used sparingly, if at all. They turn the ingredients soggy and make people nauseous.”

Dougie opened his mouth. Wisely, he closed it again.

Jodi paused for breath.

“And then, Dougie, only then, we would publish a polished, fully approved story maybe this afternoon or tomorrow.”

Dougie’s phone trilled the opening bars of a vaguely familiar and extremely annoying rap song. He hastily turned it off.

Jodi briefly wondered if she had had this same blend of brash self-confidence and exhausting energy when she was a freshly minted graduate.

Probably.

His eyes lit up. “But Jodi...if we had waited to publish, then it wouldn’t have been breaking news,” he said, with the air of one whose logic was unbeatable.

She shook her head. The urge to pound her fist on the desk (preferably knocking something breakable to the floor) and to yell that she was the top dog around here, the queen bee of this hive and the butt-kicker extraordinaire, was strong. But the years of conditioning to be a well-behaved, conciliative and polite woman were even stronger.

On the other hand. Jodi breathed deeply.

Enough was enough.

Unfazed by his boss’ expression, Dougie sat up straight and flexed his fingers. “Publish and be damned,” he said proudly. “I learned that in college.”

Jodi thought briefly about the job she had turned down in Manhattan, where the offices probably had glass walls with stunning views and built-in Italian coffee machines, maybe a separate gym and neck massages on demand. She could do with a massage right now.

“Dougie!”

He jumped, wide-eyed. Jodi adjusted her tone slightly. Millennials were known to be sensitive about negative feedback, and she didn’t really want him to resign forthwith in a fit of the sulks.

“I want you to think of this as a learning experience. An opportunity to grow as a professional.”

Dougie nodded eagerly. He opened his mouth to speak. She held up her palm.

“That particular saying has nothing to do with whipping together a story and, without the advice or permission of the editor, posting it online.”

The next words were delivered with slow emphasis. “Are you clear on that point?”

He nodded.

“And further, in case you are confused about the lines of authority in this office. I am the editor. You do nothing without my permission. The fact that we don’t have lawyers slapping us with writs yet, is—”

Her own phone rang, and she grabbed it hastily, her heart thudding in anticipation. She raised a finger to pause the conversation.

“The Temple Mountain Monitor office. Jodi Ruskin speaking.” She tried to project calm authority.

But it wasn’t Ricky.

“Jodi? Silas here. There’s something I’d like to share with you and Ricky, if you have time. It’s...ah...relevant to the story I read online this morning.”

The espresso she’d picked up on the way to work was suddenly sour in Jodi’s mouth. Was even Silas Beecham having second thoughts about the twins’ guilt? Or was he going to tell that, having thrown confidentiality to the winds in order to capture readers, Jodi was responsible for the imminent removal of Joshua and Judah by Social Services?

“Sure. Yes.” She paused, aware that her two employees were straining to take in as much of the conversation as possible. She turned so her back was facing May and Dougie, providing her a view of the bustling sidewalk.

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