Page 38 of A Ticking Time Boss

She tells me about the three research projects she’s helping with in short, professional tones. Even goes so far as to open the file on her computer, her voice heating up with excitement.

“Excellent,” Wesley says by my side. “Mr. Kingsley, let me show you—”

“I’d like to hear about what story you’re working on,” I ask Audrey.

She meets my gaze with a strong one of her own. “The focus is on a bodega in Queens. The owners are being evicted by a construction company on false grounds. It’s all an excuse to level the place and build expensive condos.”

“You care about the area?” I ask.

She nods. “We’re a big-picture paper, but I think we’ve lost sight of the customers at home over the last couple of years. The New Yorkers who are our true supporters. They care about their city and the things that happen in it.”

A quiet apprehension lands in the air. She’s criticized the leadership of the newspaper to the current and former heads, and she’d done it with an enthusiastic smile.

And that, I think, is why she deserves to be called spitfire.

“It’s a good story,” I say. “The freeze on solo reporting will be lifted. I want you to find time to work on it.”

She nods, and I can tell she’s biting the inside of her cheek to stop a smile. “Yes, sir. Excellent. I’ll… do that.”

“No sir,” I repeat.

I leave her at her desk, the terrible actress with her glittering eyes. Wesley walks beside me on our way back to the executive floor. There’s agitation in his silence.

“Just say it,” I tell him.

“Several of them overstepped,” he says. “I’ll speak to Booker tomorrow. Saying they didn’t have time, sharing their unsolicited thoughts on the direction of the newspaper…”

I frown at him. Is this how he usually runs the paper? “I don’t want sycophants, I want a functioning newspaper,” I say. “You won’t tell Booker a thing.”

A brief flare-up of irritation in Wesley’s eyes, but then it’s gone, and he’s once more the helpful second-in-command. “Noted.”

As soon as I’m back in my office, I reply to Audrey’s text.

Carter: You’re a terrible actress.

Well, reply is a loose term. I’d promised her help with her dates. But I never promised to be prompt.

Audrey: You terrified everyone in this room, you know. Announcing you wanted to get to know the department. I swear two people in the back fainted.

I frown down at my phone.

Carter: You’re exaggerating.

Audrey: Only slightly. What made you want to get to know Investigative better?

She has to know it’s her. Audrey’s words and her burning enthusiasm for the topic. I still have plans for the other departments, not to mention the Globe’s app. But her passion is contagious.

Can great journalism really be the savior of this newspaper?

Carter: Someone told me it’s the backbone of this paper.

Audrey: Someone very smart, right?

Carter: Moderately, I’d say.

Audrey: I’ll take it. Thank you for allowing solo initiatives again. You know, we all work on it on our spare time. It’s what keeps a lot of these journalists’ flames burning.

I’d never considered that. Booker handles the story beats, but all of them want to pursue their own stories. Like Audrey’s bodega. Flames burning. Christ, she has a way with words.

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