Page 14 of Caught A Vibe

What?I’m dumbfounded.

“Our application was cleared and submitted for the award by a preliminary committee. The full judging panel came by this morning and revoked their nomination and our permit to exhibit after they saw the product in action yesterday. Started spouting some nonsense about it not fitting into the health category. Called it immoral and profane.”

“But they allow the VR porn guys to stay?”

“That’s exactly what I said!” She slaps my shoulder. “Guys can get off in new and exciting ways, but heaven forbid a woman enjoy anything but dick.”

“That’s some bullshit. Where is Penny?” I ask. I definitely need to talk to her now, both to get a quote for the new article I need to write, but also to make sure she’s okay.

“Last I heard, she’d given up arguing with them and went to arrange things with the union guys to move our stuff off the floor.”

“Damn it.” Despite my personal disappointment, my professional Spidey senses are tingling. I dig out a business card and hand it to the woman. “I’m Dash Hall. I spoke with her yesterday for an article. Can you tell her I came by to follow up?”

“Sure thing,” she replies, already distracted by the mammoth task ahead of her.

Time to chase this story.

The VR guys are more than happy to spout off about their past win. I survey the other presenters in the personal health categories for the uses of their devices. I even track down the official rules for entry from the organization and email the address listed on the website for official comment. Which they promptly decline. Of course.

It doesn’t matter. I have enough to start working.

The closest Starbucks closed at two p.m., but still has functioning Wi-Fi. I set up camp in the corridor to finish writing the piece. By four, it is emailed to my editor. This is the best thing I’ve written in a long time. I have a legitimate scoop. This is exactly what Chad said he wanted to see for a shot at a full-time spot. The idea I might actually meet a professional milestone has me riding high through cleaning up my notifications.

So when the email from Chad dings in my inbox, I open it immediately expecting a pat on the back, but it feels more like a slap in the face.

“Kill the story?” What the fuck does he meankill the story? I read the email again, stunned at the perfunctory tone and brusque dismissal. Buried under a list of changes and approvals for the other articles is a one-line rejection of my most intriguing piece in years.

I need clarification. I pull out my phone and text him immediately.

Dash:

Why is it a no-go on the MiO story?

Chad:

It was a joke assignment.

But it’s a real story. This is big.

It’s too political and feminist.

Not our target demographic.

Aren’t we trying to change that?

Expand our demographic?

It doesn’t flow with the rest of your pieces.

I can’t use it. Also don’t want to piss off T-Con

and get uninvited next year.

It’s an important story.

You’ve got sex on the brain.

What ever happened with that girl last night?

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