Page 88 of Striking Heat
Chapter Thirty-Five
~DANNY~
Sitting outside of Maxwell Cromwell’s office with Martin and Nick, waiting to show him the finished piece, feels a little bit like sitting outside of the principal’s office waiting to be punished. He can’t punish me yet because he doesn’t know anything. But if he ever figures out what’s happening between Mac and me, he would. But I’m going to do my best to keep it together.
I dressed up for the occasion, putting on a suit and tie. Martin was impressed and thanked me for it. He’s sitting here in his cheap suit. Mine is a gray Armani paired with a black dress shirt and no tie. I wish I could swing by Mac’s and see what she thinks of me decked out like this. I mean, she seems to like me when I’m casual, so this should give her a thrill too.
I smile at the thought.
“What?” Martin asks me.
“Nothing. Just thinking about how weird this seems being back here to talk about a completed article.” I shrug my shoulders. Martin is such a tool that he buys it.
“I hope he likes it,” Martin says. “I would have liked to have seen more drafts and notes on this one. Normally you stay closer to the office when you’re writing. But with this one, you workedclosely with her and out of your home or that diner. I wish you would have come into the office more. Spent a little less time with the Cromwell’s.” He stares at me pointedly. “Remember that you work for the paper and not me.”
I nod. So that’s what this is about. All the time I spent with August. He’s worried I’m forgetting where my bread is buttered. Little does he know; I don’t need the butter he has to make my world go round. That’ll just be a secret that I keep.
August comes out at that moment to see us. “Hey, Martin, Danny.” He comes over and shakes both of our hands. “Maxwell is ready to see you all now.”
We stand and follow August into his father’s office. It almost feels a little bit like D-Day as I walk into the office. I don’t why, but I have this weird feeling that my fate is going to be decided in that room within the next thirty minutes. August watched me a little too closely at the bar last night, and now here we are with his dad and my article.
“It’s good to see you again, Danny.” Maxwell rises and comes around the desk to shake my hand. We sit on the couches across from his desk, the same way we did when I was in here the last time with Mac.
“Mr. Cromwell, good to see you as well,” I say, being formal.
“Please, call me Maxwell,” he corrects me. “I had the pleasure of seeing your father the other night. I thought maybe you would be there as well, but he said you weren’t attending the same functions anymore.”
I’m not sure where he was or what he’s referring to. I think he assumes my father and I talk and that I’m aware of the functions he attends. But I have no idea where he was, nor do I care. I take the same approach that I always do when asked about him—tight-lipped smile and no reaction.
The conversation moves. Martin and Maxwell are talking about things at the paper. Martin is excited about the coverage the paper has been able to bring to the Blaze.
“Do you think it would be a good idea to do some additional articles after this one?” Martin asks.
It’s all about money with him. And I get that it’s his job, but I hate it. I don’t want to be forced to write more articles. I’m hoping to distance myself from the team.
“Shouldn’t we wait and see how this article goes first?” I ask, looking between the two men.
“I would agree. Let’s see what happens with this one,” Cromwell says. “But if goes well, the other pieces we spoke of; behind the scenes with the team and other coverage would be next.
“I don’t doubt it will be well received. I have one of my best writers on it,” Martin replies, singing my praises.
“Let’s see it then. I want to see how well this article has turned out.”
I nod and hand over the article that has been kept in my portfolio for safekeeping. Holding my breath, I watch him read it. Martin liked it. He thought it went well. It isn’t just about Mac but also about the team and how hard they’ve been working.
The silence stretches on a little too long, and I start to get uncomfortable. Martin is shifting in his seat too. I look over at August, who’s sitting with his father. He winks in my direction, trying to remain encouraging, I think.
“I like it,” Maxwell finally says.
“Great, and Nick has some really great pictures to go along with it,” I add. “Not just of Mac but of the whole team.”
“That’s good.” He hands the article over to August for him to peruse it. “I will say that I thought there would be more bite to it. More of an objective approach. You’re really singing the praises of my striker there. Not that I mind. I just thought there would be more fire. It’s like you went out of your way to be nice to her.”
My blood runs cold at the mention of it. I wonder if he can see through my intentions. “I was trying to make sure it was apositive piece. More of something the Blaze would be proud to put out and not an attack. Not like the way I wrote the first one.”
He considers my words. “I get all of that. I just thought it would be more objective. This seems like we may have paid you for the piece.”
I want to say that he did, but I don’t dare. I look over at Martin and hope he’s going to help me with this. Thankfully, he does.
