Page 61 of Wild and Unruly
“Well, actually, I have another story.” I start, watching Virginia’s head come up slowly. Her shrewd gaze makes me nervous, but that is why she was the best in the business.
“It better be good and the reason this Three Rivers story is taking so long.” She lowers her glasses off her nose and stares at me.
I clear my throat, refusing to fidget under her gaze. “I have a story about a competitor in the business that is potentially still drugging and possibly abusing his horses.”
Virginia holds my gaze, her eyes watching me so carefully that, for a moment, I forget that my lungs need oxygen.
“Bonnie…” She folds her hands on her desk, putting her full attention on me, something I’m not used to when dealing with her. “The words ‘potentially’ and ‘possibly’ mean that the story has no grounds. I would need concrete words like ‘positive’ and ‘proof.’ Do you get what I’m saying?”
“Yes.” I place my hands on my lap and give her an imploring look. “I understand. But there is substantial evidence. There are witnesses.”
Granted, the witnesses weren’t coming forward—not yet—but I know that a client of Dani and CT’s knows something. I know that Aesha knows something. I know that half of those people who work over there have to knowsomething.
That doesn’t even cover the proof from Mason’s accident.
For a moment, she sits back in her chair. “This would be a huge story. Who is it?”
I swallow, wondering how in tune she is with the professional world. “Tommy Smith.”
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “You would need irrefutable evidence for that claim, Bonnie. He would bury us if it was a lie.”
“I know.” I nod my head, biting my lip as I think about how everyone acted around him, about how he talked to his employees and those comments he made to that one older man about dosages…
I straighten my shoulders and give her a steady look. “I can get it.”
For a moment, she stares off into the distance, probably thinking of creative ways to fire me if this all backfires. But I knew, in my gut, that this guy needed to go down, that I needed to be the one who made it happen.
“Fine,” Virginia finally says, giving me a curt nod. “You have one more week to get both of these stories to me”—she holds up a finger and gives me a look—“with concrete proof. But that’s it, Bonnie. Then, you’re off to Kentucky.”
I nod, ignoring that sad churn in my stomach that reminds me that I wouldn’t be as accessible to Stetson as I’d like.
Pushing that aside, I stride out of my boss’s office and start to think of ways to get everything I need in seven days.
My mom and brother’s apartment was actually really nice. It was on the lowest floor in a modern style apartment building in North Denver, away from the hustle and bustle of the main parts of downtown.
Mom decorated the space tastefully with houseplants, and I saw little handmade doilies under each pot, evidence that my mom was still crocheting them just like she learned from my grandmother when she was a child.
The sight of them makes me smile. “Mom? Mason?” I pull my key out of the door, hoping that they don’t mind me letting myself in.
It was weird that they lived together, not in my family home that we all were in, but being independent yet dependent adults. After my dad left, it really altered everything for us, pushing us into this space we had to live in.
Not just the physical space but the emotional one we were all still dealing with, even years after the fact.
I hear a throat clear, and I make my way out of the entryway and into the living room, smiling at my brother sitting in his lounge chair.
His eyes meet mine briefly before returning to looking out the window. A brief second before he looks away, a tiny movement of his lips has me hoping that he’ll smile at me. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen my brother openly smile, a far cry from the man he used to be.
“Hey, big brother,” I say, entering the room and tossing my bag onto the table that rests against the wall. “Is Mom home?”
“No,” he answers tersely, scratching his eyebrow. “She’s at church.”
I nod my head, stuffing my hands into my back pockets and taking a few steps over to him. I feel weird being in this space alone with him, even though growing up, my brother and I were inseparable.
“So, nice view,” I say, looking out the sliding glass door that goes to the patio. The view is of the trees and pathway that works its way around the apartment complex. Not horrible, but it doesn’t beat The Lodge.
He scoffs and shakes his head. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I was hoping to see Mom for a minute before I head back up the mountain,” I say, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table.
