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T wo weeks prior to extraction…

Charmaine

“What do you mean my articles aren’t relevant any longer?” I heard the terseness in my tone and rolled my eyes.

“I mean they aren’t relevant any longer. You’ve been spending too much time with the whales and pontificating about the need for cleaner energy,” Jerry said in response.

Jerry Cane had been my editor and boss at the Chicago Sun for years.

He’d been mostly responsible for my rise to fame, my articles usually found on the front page.

He was tough but fair, lovable in a curmudgeony kind of way.

He’d also given me free rein to write the stories I thought were…

relevant. For him to be tossing that back in my face angered me.

Enough so I paced the floor of my little house, trying to calm down so I wouldn’t tell him what I thought about his call.

“First of all, I never pontificate about anything. I state the truth. Did you forget I was solely responsible for uncovering corruption in both the government and in three foreign countries?”

I had a penchant for investigative reporting, which hadn’t won me many friends and over the years, I’d had dozens of threats.

“No, I didn’t forget, but the last article with any meat was over six months ago. You need to find something you can really sink your teeth into.”

I stopped at my desk, glaring down at my notebook that I always kept with me. I’d scoured the internet drafting ideas. I had pages of them, but nothing had inspired me for ages. “You know I’m trying. You could help.”

“You’re a loner, Char. That’s the way you’ve always worked. Maybe what you need is a vacation.”

Snorting, I looked around my living room.

I’d lived here for five years, yet it was only half filled.

It wasn’t because I didn’t make enough money or that I enjoyed living in a barren environment.

It was because my worthless soon to be ex-husband had taken half of everything.

Half of which he’d never liked or appreciated.

He’d just done so out of spite because I’d made his life ‘difficult.’

The goddamn asshole.

What I didn’t have was extra money to be trotting off to the Caribbean. His lawyers and mine had taken care of my tidy nest egg. I also couldn’t relax by myself. Even going with a friend didn’t have appeal.

Not that I had a lot of close friends other than the few I’d developed in the industry.

While I was mostly a print journalist, I’d also developed a talent for being on camera.

Maybe I needed to hunt down a story utilizing the camera crew who I worked with so well.

When we clicked, we made magic together.

“I’ll figure something out,” I told him and rubbed my eyes. Hearing a blip of my email did nothing but make me groan. Lately, I’d had nothing but disruptive news, often corresponding with Brian on the computer since talking in person usually meant a screaming match.

“Please do because I’m feeling some heat from above,” Jerry admitted.

“What do you mean heat?”

“As in the pressure to cut costs.”

“What?” I jerked my head up, fisting my hand. “Are you saying you’re going to fire me?”

“No, but without a decent story, you could be relegated to local news instead of international.”

He was threatening to demote me. Could my life get any worse? I opened my mouth four times to say something nasty, but curtailed the bullish spirit I had. My caustic mouth usually got me into trouble.

“I’ll find something but be prepared to send the camera crew.”

“We’ll see, Char. Incidentally, isn’t your divorce almost final?”

I glared at the paperwork sitting right next to my list of ideas. There was no reason for me not to sign the documents. None. I’d felt vindicated the nightmare was about over when the paperwork had been couriered over by my attorney, but they’d remained in the same place for almost two weeks.

Another blip and I glanced at my computer screen.

Yep. Just as I’d expected. Brian had sent me two emails that morning demanding I sign the documents.

And why? Because he was engaged to be married and being legally hitched to someone else didn’t put him in the best light since he was seeking a partnership in his law firm.

Fuck him.

“Yep. I just need to sign the paperwork,” I admitted begrudgingly.

“Take a piece of advice from an old friend. Your head hasn’t been in the game since you found out about Brian’s infidelities. Sign the papers. End that chapter of your life. Then get back to penning intense, incredible articles.”

It felt like being called out by my father.

I scooted my tennis shoe across the hardwood floor. “I hear you. Just put a little faith in me. Something will drop in my lap.”

He laughed. “It usually does. Take care, Char. I care about you and want you to succeed.”

“Yeah, I’ll call you in a couple days.” After ending the call, I tossed the phone and leaned over my desk, staring at the ideas.

Maybe the truth was that nothing excited me.

I needed something gritty even if disguised as a fluff piece.

Oh, my God. I was stooping very low. Hmmm…

What could I report on? Maybe a little covert action in some third world country.

I’d done that before. I was tough. I could do anything.

The pep talk was ongoing as my doorbell rang. I didn’t like unexpected visitors. Groaning, I raked my hand through my messy hair. I hadn’t washed it in days and was wearing my favorite sweatpants and Chicago Bulls sweatshirt. Comfy wear. If it was a salesman, I was in the mood to tell them off.

Chuckling to myself, I took long strides to the door, throwing it open with flair.

And standing directly in front of me was my ex in a glorious ten-thousand-dollar suit. His eyebrows immediately shot up and as he’d done a million times before, he sneered as he gazed down to my shoes.

“I see you’re doing well,” he barked.

“What do you want?” Sure, the new version of me was gorgeous. She was likely never caught dead in anything but designer clothes, including going to the mailbox. Perfect makeup. Perfect hair. Well, fuck her. I had my own style. I planted one hand on my hip, jutting it forward.

“I think you know exactly what I want, Char. I can’t imagine you’ve been too busy to accomplish a single task.” He purposely glanced around me at the mess I’d created.

I hated when he used the condescending tone on me.

“Actually, I have been. I didn’t know you were in such a rush.

Oh, that’s right. You want to marry that bimbo you fucked while still married to me.

Silly girl.” I gave him just as much attitude as he gave me even though my stomach was churning.

Every interaction whether on the phone or in person left me with cramps.

Was it possible I could hate him any more than I did?

Nope. I popped the ‘p’ in my mind and even gave myself a mental high five.

He certainly didn’t need to know how many nights I’d spent crying over the loss of our marriage. He just didn’t care and certainly didn’t deserve to know even if we’d grown apart, his infidelity had wrecked me.

Not any longer.

“You were always such a bitch,” he spouted off.

“Aww. You just couldn’t handle a real woman. While you’re here, I’m happy to sign the papers. Plus, you can take the rest of your crap with you before you go. Stay right there. You are not welcome in my house.”

Yes, I’d at least insisted on keeping the house, although at this point, I hated the memories.

We’d been happy for a few years, planning a wonderful future.

Both our careers had gotten in the middle, but I’d never cheated on him.

Not once. I doubted Barbie Betty was his first, but the last thing I needed were additional grisly details about his mortal sins.

At least I’d been a little conniving myself in keeping some of his favorite items since he’d insisted on dismantling my life. I sashayed toward my desk, wishing I’d picked up my SpaghettiOs bowl from the night before.

There was nothing more depressing than cooking for one.

“How’s the job going?” Brian asked and his sudden change in demeanor seemed suspicious. Was he just getting ready to barrage me with additional barbs?

“Incredible. There’s nothing like exposing criminals and assholes.

Maybe I’ll start a little investigation into your firm.

I heard some members of your staff are on the take.

Looking for the governorship?” It wasn’t entirely a lie.

Even Brian had told me he suspected his mentor in the firm of crossing into the gray area.

“You know my work is important to me.”

He’d complained I’d taken time away from our marriage when he’d been knee deep in exposing organized crime for years, even spending nights in the office because of a big case he was working on. Now I knew the real reason why.

“I guess so did Barbie.”

“Char. Can we stop arguing? Please? I know you’re struggling to find the next great story.”

“You care why?”

“Because you were always good at exposing the truth. You should keep doing that. There are so many bad people out there.”

There were bad people everywhere, including one who’d shared a bed with me. Oh, the man made me furious.

I snagged the paperwork and my favorite pen, smiling as I signed and initialed where applicable on both copies. Before handing him one, I folded and kissed the top just for kicks and giggles.

In my mind, a nice send off.

“Don’t worry. That’s what I intend on doing.”

“Just be careful. It’s a dangerous world out there.”

Now he was issuing a warning. I wouldn’t call it a threat, but he was doing what he always did, talk down to me. About my family. About my upbringing. About my job. About everything. I didn’t bother responding. There was nothing more dangerous than believing you could trust someone with your heart.

I’d learned that the hard way.