Page 63 of Love in Training
“Understandable?” Randall’s eyes follow Rufus as he jumps up and runs after the toy.
I let out a breath, trying to slow my pulse. I’ve worked with Randall for five years. I consider him a friend, an ally, and a mentor. But I know better than to show aggression like that in the workplace.
“Sorry,” I say again as the dog returns, tail wagging.
My boss stares at his desk. “This says nothing about your talent—only your research.” He meets my eyes. “Have there been any more messages?”
My hands start shaking. I fold them in my lap, but it doesn’t help. “One. Early this morning.”
You’ll keep that pretty nose where it belongs if you know what’s good for you.
The words land differently now, knowing it likely wasn’t from Colin Vanderpool. That there’s someone like him still out there... someone I need to ‘be careful’ of.
Randall frowns. “Send it to me. Keep sharing anything that feels remotely off, and I’ll keep passing them along to my contact at DPD. We’ll need to keep a close eye on all communications as you dig deeper.”
“Dig deeper?” I blink at him. “I don’t think so, Randall. You can keep me on the assignment desk. I’ll write staff articles, maybe some horoscopes if you want to get fancy. But I’m done with investigative features—especially about Unmatched.”
My boss folds his hands and looks at me straight-faced. “No, you’re not.”
“Um, yes, I am? If there was any remaining doubt that I’m not cut out for journalism, this is proof. I thought I could write about things that matter, but I got in way over my head.”
He shakes his head. “Caprice, this is the tip of an iceberg.”
I bristle. Because that’s exactly the problem. “Yeah, I wrote and published an entire story without realizing there was more to it. Not only do I look like a fool, but I might be in even more danger than I even realized. That’s a hard stop—I’m not willing to go any further.”
“But this is how you get smarter. Safer. The more you practice, the better you’ll be.”
“No one gets smarter if they’re dead.” I snort. “Put Brian on it. I’m not interested.”
My boss’s caterpillar eyebrows confer with each other, and I can tell my words aren’t sinking in. “What was in the email?”
I frown, curling my fists in my lap. “No offense, Randall, but I don’t think you understand what this is like. Justexistingas a woman, let alone a woman journalist whose skin isn’t white. I already live in a state of constant hyper-vigilance. Looking over my shoulder. Always taking different routes home. Weighing whether it’s safe to go places alone, or just open my apartment door. Even when there are people around, I have to weigh whether they’d help if I needed them or cause me more harm. And that’swithoutdrawing further attention to myself with my writing.
“Then add in uncomfortable professional situations—inappropriate comments about my hair and skin. Being touched or asked on dates after interviews with men who don’t like the word ‘no.’ Making up boyfriends or commitments because it feels safer than angering a man, but still having to give them my number because they’re contacts. Worrying they’ll escalate if I block them. I’m exhausted—tired of always being on my guard. I don’t need to make things worse for myself when I can’t even handle the basics of my job.”
His mouth turns down, following the shape of his goatee as he considers my words. “You’re right. I don’t understand what that’s like, and I know I never could,” he says. “But you’re wrong about the job. You’re perfect at it. You’ve made some mistakes, but your instincts are good and your voice is powerful. You’ve already shown the world you could expose one asshole, and now you’re going to prove that none of them are safe.”
“ButIdon’t feel safe.” I draw my knees to my chest, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “Technically, these guys haven’t done anything illegal. They made an app for cheaters; they’re douchebags. But it’s not like they’re going to jail. There’s no clear point where it’ll end for me.”
“What makes you so sure there’s nothing illegal?” Randall asks.
I roll my eyes. “Last I checked, cheating was reprehensible, not unlawful.”
“Yeah.” He nods. “But it kind of makes you wonder...”
Our eyes meet, and his question bores into me until I do exactly what I just said I wasn’t going to do. “Why are they trying so hard to push me away?” I ask. “Is there something else going on?”
My throat goes dry even as a subtle sparkle returns to my boss’s eye.
“Randall, I can’t—” My voice breaks.
I close my eyes, my thoughts suddenly on Theo, tracking down bad guys somewhere thousands of miles away. When I open my eyes again, Rufus has planted himself next to my chair, and my hand is buried in his neck fur. He fixes me with his golden eyes, and if he weren’t just a dog, I’d think he actually looked concerned.
“You mentioned you’ve been training Rufus with someone?” Randall asks.
I look at the ceiling. “Yeah, another one of the aforementioned assholes.”
His brows draw together. “The trainer? Does he make you uncomfortable too?”
