“How much is my father paying you here, Dan?” I stroked my chin, changing the subject.
His gaze shot up from his phone. “A hundred and twenty K. Why?”
“I’ll pay you one-fifty to work for me exclusively.”
“Okay.” The leathery-skinned, fifty-something man smiled at that.
Dan hit the bottle three times a week, and we couldn’t rely on him to chase news around New York without making a pit stop at every bar. But he sure was good enough for digging up dirt.
“I want you to keep an eye on this Milton kid—the boyfriend.”
“Got it.” He wrote something in his notepad. Dan was severely old school, with his tattered courier bag, tape recorder, thinning amber hair, and hate for everything with a flat screen.
“Also, find out who Kipling is. But most importantly, I need you to follow my father.”
I didn’t miss a beat, watching said creeper through the glass wall as he approached Judith. She looked up and pushed off her desk, standing. Her puzzled eyes studied him intently, but otherwise her mouth was curved in a polite smile. My father motioned upstairs, probably to his office. My fist clenched and my jaw tensed so hard I thought my teeth were going to turn to dust.
Dan’s head shot up. “What are we looking to find?”
“Everything and anything that could take him down.”
Before Dan could nod, I smoothed my tie and pressed the switchboard button connecting me to Brianna. “Get me a discreet meeting with Mr. Humphry.”
“Sir, as in Judith Humphry’s father?”
“No, as in Humphrey Bogart. He died sometime in the fifties. I’m sure he’s not a hard man to track.”
Silence from the other end.
“Yes, Brianna, Judith Humphry’s father. And make sure this doesn’t get back to her in any way.”
“Yes, sir.”
More silence. Then, “Sir?”
“What?”
“Thank you for doing your own dry cleaning. I really appreciate it.”
She needed to thank Judith, but of course, I would never admit that. It felt like waving a white flag, and all I could see was red, all I could feel was history repeating itself—with my father trying to seduce Judith and her dress ending up in a puddle, like water on the floor of the electrical closet—Catastrophic.
I put the receiver down, waving Dan away like he was a waiter who’d messed up my order. His chin jiggled, along with his stomach on a chuckle.
“When you least expect it, eh?”
I would’ve asked what he meant, had I cared. “Out,” I said instead.
“Sixteen, by the way.” He pushed himself up, groaning.
“Huh?”
“You asked me how many pairs of Chucks she has. I counted. At least sixteen.”
That’s a lot of fucking moods for one tiny thing.
Shortly after sending Dan on his way, I waltzed out of my office and into the newsroom. Grilling Jude about my Dad was tempting, but I wasn’t a hypocrite, and she didn’t owe me shit.
Besides, it was likely she already felt extra salty after what had happened with Lily, and she had enough on her plate without having my dirty laundry to sort through. I was going to talk to Kate about an item I wanted to scrap from the show tonight when Steve blocked my way to her desk, throwing his body between us like a hysterical mother in front of a speeding car.
Big. Fucking. Mistake, Dudebro.
“Can I help you?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I have something you really wanna see, Célian.”
“Please, call me Mr. Laurent. Only my friends call me Célian. Chances are I’ll stab myself in the eye with a fork before initiating a conversation with you about non-professional issues. Start talking.”
I followed him to his desk, and he pointed at his screen, his smile oozing stupidity in a way I didn’t know was physically possible.
“Look.”
To me, it looked like a picture of a random, middle-aged chick trying to sit on a cucumber.
“Are you sharing your porn stash with me, Steve? Because A, my taste is a little more conservative, and B, it is strictly forbidden to access erotic websites in this building.”
“She’s the vice president of Together Forever, a non-profit organization for people with ADHD. Got caught doing this salacious act at her bachelorette party.” Steve cackled, his smug smile screaming jackpot.
“Here’s the part where you tell me why I should care.” I began to sort through emails on my phone, losing patience.
“Because…because…look what she’s doing!” He cried out, pointing at his screen. “She’s legit trying to fit a cucumber into her vag.”
I turned around and walked away. This wasn’t an item. It wouldn’t even be an item if she was a legitimate celebrity. That was Gary and Ava’s jurisdiction. But it highlighted the fact that right now, Steve was using a lot of space, resources, and oxygen that should have been offered to someone more capable than him. Kate was already standing up when I approached, her flame-red bob appearing sharper than usual.
“He’s impossible.” She pretended to puff on her pen. Ever since she’d stopped smoking, she did that with everything from Sharpies to asparagus stalks.