Page 11 of Reverse

“You’re doing a shitty thing, Nat. Own it,” I utter dryly, batting the idiocy off. At this point, I’m grasping at all moral straws in an attempt to keep on with my investigation while combating the guilt.

Standing on the patio of my apartment—just a few streets over from the heavy traffic of Sixth—I decide downtown Austin remains alive and well with the ever-present varied lights and the level of street noise in the distance.

Dipping my gaze, I sweep my quieter road, which is riddled with a few potholes, and even fewer passersby. I imagine Stella three decades ago, nearly three years my junior, as she trekked her way through these very streets. Streets she frequented, determined to forge her future in journalism.

More curious than ever, I Google Stella Emerson Crowne. A list quickly populates of images and articles, many written by her. I take a seat in my lone chair—which takes up the whole of my four cubic feet of balcony—and began sorting through them. She’s given several interviews over the years, most of them in the last decade, due to her success. As I pick through the endless barrage of information, I become more and more frustrated when I don’t find mention of my father, especially in the earlier articles.

Unless Stella is a borderline sociopath who could lie her way through any test, my father meant far more to her than she’s allowed the world to know.

I know,and sadly, I may be one of a very few which leaves an acidic taste lingering on my tongue.

For the past twenty-five years, it seems they’ve both lived their separate lives pretending that the other doesn’t exist, but why?

It has to be purposeful, has to be. And if so, that means she’s buried their relationship history too. They seemed to be on amicable terms when they split.

Why did they break up in the first place? In the film, Stella was already in Seattle when she reunited with Reid.

Even though a lot of pieces are clicking together, I know I’m missing the most vital parts. Too many to feel real satisfaction, especially for someone in my field.

Did she leave my father out of that script to spare him? Was he hurt by it?

Can I let this go?

A resoundingnothrums through my psyche as I try to grapple with the fact that everyone has a dating history, including my parents. But it’s the intimacy of the emails I’ve read so far, the underlying love, affection, and devotion between them that keeps me calling ‘bullshit’ on the movie and pacing my apartment until sunrise.

“There’s always an angle, Natalie,” I mutter beneath my breath for the umpteenth time as I set my tray atop the wiry metal table on the patio of the small bistro, which sits only a few blocks from Speak.

“It’s been a while,” Rosie, our gossip columnist prods as I take a sip of my lemonade, and she takes the seat across from me.

Per usual, she’s a cheap lunch date—her lithe figure taking precedence over hunger. Her plate is covered in mixed greens topped with a teaspoon of dressing—rabbit food. “What’s new, or should I say news?” I ask before taking a hearty bite of my brisket sandwich.

“Not a lot,” she says, glancing around the patio. A habit she no doubt formed back in L.A. where she stemmed from.

The sun collectively starts to beat down on us as she exaggeratedly pats her forehead with a napkin. I grin behind my sandwich in anticipation of what’s coming.

“I can’t believe I gave up California temperatures forthis.”

Early spring in Texas is a toss-up in weather, though it’s mildly comfortable today—at least for me, which gave me the perfect excuse to get Rosie out of the office so our conversation didn’t drift into the wrong ears.

What Rosie Knowsis one of the most celebrated and most-read columns at Austin Speak. With her connections in entertainment and media and her expertise in unearthing celebrity gossip, we got a considerable circulation boost when she started at the paper. She has a penchant, if not a God-given talent, for sniffing out news before any other source. She’s rarely, if ever, scooped.

In college, I followed her gossip blog and podcast like religion and brought her talent up to Dad on multiple occasions in an attempt to get her to Austin. So, when Dad finally made the call to recruit her, we sweetened the deal by offering to sponsor her podcast nationally through my mother’s media company.

Even with that bait, it surprised the hell out of us both when she accepted and traded in California weather for the sweltering Texas sun six months out of the year.

A perk of when she’s here is that she’s one less testosterone-driven man to take up Austin Speak office space, for which I’m thankful. Because of my admiration for her work—and our closeness in age—we took up easily together as friends, so my lunch invitation isn’t out of the ordinary. However, my motive for extending the invite is far from innocent.

“What are you working on?” she asks, forking a bite with a manicured hand, her blonde locks pulled into a high ponytail. Though she’s got a little of that California-bred Barbie look going on, she’s down-to-earth and can quickly shift to a split-tongued devil when provoked. These traits made her an instant ally. She can drive the most ego-driven man to his knees on any given day of her choosing. Another reason to love Rosie today is that she’s prompting me with the right questions out of the gate. Bless her.

I shrug nonchalantly. “Just going through the archives and pulling old columns for the thirtieth edition. We’re going to highlight the headlines that got the paper where it is today. I just finished year one.”

“Damn, that’s a task.”

“I’m up for it and have months to prepare, so I’m determined to do it justice.” I sip my lemonade and decide it’s go time. “I’m sorting through some of Stella’s old articles now.”

Rosie’s eyes widen, letting me know she’s already on the hook. Despite her age and the fact that she’s brushed elbows with countless A-list celebrities, she is a die-hard fan of all things Crowne family.

“Oh,” she jumps in her seat as if in afterthought. “Speaking of,” she palms her forehead dramatically as I hold in my chuckle. “I totally forgot. I just got a line on somethingbig.”

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