Page 52

I stroll through the building to many curious looks and mutters from employees. Everybody’s aware I’m the new owner and for me to be casually wandering the building it must mean something. I could be here for mass layoffs or some other big announcement.

The elevator doors part to take me up to the fourth floor. The same floor where the evening news crew is situated.

You could say I’ve intentionally come up to this floor. I prefer to think of it more as a tour that happens to wind up where the woman whose been on my mind works.

I slow up as I make it through the glass doors and find a chaotic newsroom. Desk phones ring off the hook and script writers scurry about from their cubicle to the printers clutching sheets of paper. In the middle of the maze stands none other than the woman I was hoping to find.

Portia’s engrossed in what looks like a contentious conversation with her producer, Baron Strong. A former reporter himself, he’s holding up his hands like he’s wiped himself of any culpability for whatever they’re talking about.

“You can’t do this!” Portia says, frustration blooming in her voice. “You know I refuse to be restricted on what I report.”

“Management has spoken. They don’t want you touching this with a ten foot pole. Not ’til the police investigation’s done.”

“You mean once the corrupt NPPD closes the case with little to no findings?”

I slip my hands into my pants pockets and tilt my head listening to both sides of the argument.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what case they’re discussing—or what Portia’s after.

“You are the reason why they flaunt their crimes out in the open,” she goes on passionately. “Why would the Tucos and Belluccis even be afraid when they know the police and the media and just about every other damn institution in this city will roll right over and play dead!”

“Watch your tone, James.”

“You watch your step, Strong!” she shoots right back, wagging a finger at him. “I’m not backing down! Even if I have to go the indie route and do this all on my own.”

“You’ll be unemployed.”

“I don’t give a fuck!”

Several of the others in the newsroom gasp overhearing the heated debate. Then their eyes double in size once they realize who else is in the room.

Me.

Their faces all pale and they go still like they’ve seen a ghost.

The same happens to Baron the second he notices what everyone else has. He forgets about his argument with Portia and hangs his mouth open like a fish about to be gutted.

Portia’s last to notice. She’s so fired up that it takes her a second to stop fuming enough to turn around and see me.

The anger vanishes from her face, though her fists remain clenched at her sides.

“Mr. Calderone,” Baron says, clearing his throat. He steps forward for a handshake. “Welcome to our newsroom. I’m sorry you had to hear that. I was just making sure Ms. James understood orders.”

I don’t shake his hand. Mine remain deep inside my pants pockets as I look past Baron and meet Portia’s gaze. “Ms. James is the best investigative reporter at this channel. She should be able to report on whatever she feels is pertinent to the public.”

“B-b-but,” he stammers. “Management has said?—”

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, Mr. Strong. But I’m management now. This station belongs to me. You’ll do as I say.” I step past him and toward Portia, stopping in front of her. The rest of the newsroom is pin drop silent, everyone waiting on bated breath. “Ms. James, would you like to join me for lunch? I would like to hear your ideas for how to improve the network.”

Portia’s so stupefied by the turn of events that she gives a slow nod of her head. “Uh… sure. Let me… I’ll grab my purse.”

A cocky grin comes to my face as I glance at a perplexed Baron. “Excellent. It’s time someone saves this channel.”

13

PORTIA

Rafael tucksmy chair into the table at the restaurant like it’s nothing. As if moments ago he didn’t essentially give a verbal bitch slap to my producer in front of the entire evening news department.