Page 44 of Love in Training
I swallow, clicking over to the document I’ve been working on the last few days. The one that’s been shaping all week into a first-rate exposé. “I can do you one better, Randall,” I say in a husky voice. “Hang up with me right now, and I’ll come in tomorrow morning with both the dog and a finished story you’re going to want to put on the cover next week.”
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
The short walkthrough the front doors of theMile High Observer, past the front desk, and down the hall to Randall’s office usually takes less than thirty seconds and would never be worth a mention. But Friday morning with Rufus in tow, this journey takes a full ten minutes, and the whole experience is like something out ofAlice’s Adventures in Wonderland,with dog-obsessed eccentrics coming at me from all directions.
“Oh my goodness!” Tracy almost falls out of her seat at reception, somehow procuring dog treats out of thin air. “Who’s our new office pup?”
A guy I vaguely recognize from IT peeks his head around the corner and grins. “I didn’t know we had a new staff member. Can I say hi?”
“Of course,” I say through my teeth.
“This breed is so intelligent,” he says, letting the dog sniff him.
At that moment, Jana appears out of nowhere and immediately drops to her knees. “Caprice! He’s adorable—I’m so jealous!”
I inch down the hall amid a chorus ofawwwws, getting peppered with questions about where Rufus came from and whyhe’s here. I’ve distilled the information to a sentence or two, but I didn’t factor in how much his orphan story would pull everyone’s dog-loving heartstrings.
“God, I’m sorry about your ex. But wow—you’re so lucky!” Jana says. “My sister had to take in our grandma’s cocker spaniel, and all he does is pee on the rug.”
I turn to look at her, kneeling on the floor with my sixty-pound beast. I consider pulling up pictures of my late couch while she makes heart eyes and strokes Rufus’s ears. But we’re only a few feet from Randall’s door.
“Um, Rufus has a meeting to get to, but if anyone wants to walk him at lunch, I’d be happy to let you draw straws.” I pull the dog into the office and shut the door like I’m hiding some tween heartthrob from his adoring fans.
“There’s the big fella!” Randall hops out of his chair and approaches Rufus with his palm extended. I have to hand it to the dog. He hasn’t whined once since we got here and has been surprisingly chill amid all this attention. Maybe he was used to meeting lots of people in new environments on deployments with Kyle.
My heart nose-dives at that thought, and I let go of the leash to sink into one of Randall’s chairs. Rufus starts up his sniff-every-corner-of-the-room thing, and once he’s satisfied with his inspection, Randall offers him a dog bed and something to chew.
“I emailed you the feature when I left home,” I say when my boss finally shifts out of dog mode and returns to his desk.
His eyes sparkle. “I finished it just before you walked in. Caprice, this is some of your finest work. The way you approached it from his wife’s perspective...” He shakes his head, but his grin shines with approval. “Though even I still can’t believe we’re talking about Colin freakingVanderpool.”
I bite my lip, leaning forward in my chair. “So... you want to publish it?”
His eyes flash to mine. “Is there any reason not to?”
“Only a couple dozen.” A nervous laugh escapes my lips.
My boss rests his elbows on his desk, taking me in. I styled my hair and dressed in something other than athleisure for the first time all week, but between writing this article and dealing with my new roommate the last few days, I feel like my edges are frayed.
“What are you most worried about?” he asks. “By the way, I’ve already submitted your raise to HR. The Vanderpools are well known, even outside of Denver. I wouldn’t be surprised if this went a little viral.”
The tightness in my chest eases a fraction at the thought of the boost in income. But when I look at him, it’s hard to swallow. “What am I always worried about, Randall?”
He has the humility to look chastened.
My boss and I have had numerous conversations about safety over the last few years. He knows about almost every threat and slur I received after the first Unmatched article, and he’s been nothing but supportive and sympathetic. He understands why I’m having reservations as much as a compassionate middle-aged white guy ever could.
“Vanderpool’s stature as a philanthropist and his political aspirations will make this hit on a whole different level than your other articles,” he says.
“Exactly,” I say in a shaky voice. “And if angering your average married cheaters earned me rape and death threats, what will happen when I piss off a powerful, influential one?”
Neither of us speaks for a minute. But then Randall folds his hands and looks right at me. “So you’re going to let that stop you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
He leans back in his chair. “Look, I’m not trying to minimize anything that’s been said or done to you. The comment sections,even on our own platform, are their own circle of hell. But maybe this is a good time to revisit why you got into journalism in the first place.”
