CHAPTER THREE
1393 Words
CHAPTER THREE
The next morning, Keira woke with backache. She blinked and looked around, disoriented. It took her a long time to work out where she was. Not Milo’s, nor her room at her mom’s, but her brand new apartment. Unfortunately, the only thing she currently had inside of it was a mattress. She didn’t even have a bed frame; hence, the backache.
Keira managed to heave herself out of bed. The only clothes in the new apartment were the ones in her case. Luckily, Yolanta had insisted on washing all her stuff for her during the Christmas vacation, so at the very least she had clean clothes to wear. She chose her most work-like outfit from the selection of wool skirts and comfortable jeans, then headed out onto the streets of New York City.
The moment her shoes hit the sidewalk, she felt a surge inside her at being home. Even the smell of pollution comforted her, despite being in complete contrast to the crisp, clean mountain air she’d been breathing in Sweden.
She went to a coffee truck at the side of the road, joining the queue of bleary-eyed workers glued to their phones.
“I’ll have a double espresso,” she told the man when she reached the front. Then she paused. She’d been drinking the extra-strong Swedish coffee for weeks. Perhaps it was time for a change. “Actually, can I have a caramel macchiato with cream?”
The man shot her a tired, unimpressed expression, and Keira grinned.
“I’m just back from vacation. I want my coffee to taste of home.”
“Good for you,” he said in a dry, deadpan voice.
As she waited for her coffee, the people who’d been milling around at the other side of the truck adding sugars to their coffee moved away. For the first time, Keira noticed there was a stand of newspapers and magazines, and amongst them was the latest issue of Viatorum. Just as Nina had explained, the cover had been changed and it was now one of the original shots of the model they’d been planning to use in the first place. It was a relief to know she’d been listened to, but she still felt a swirl of anxiety knowing that today she was going to hand in her Norwegian article. She had no idea how Elliot would react to the ending.
Once Keira had her caffeine fix, she headed to the subway. Luckily her new apartment was well located for the office and it wasn’t a very long journey at all, so being pressed up so close to so many people didn’t concern her as much as it did when traveling in from her mom’s.
She made it out the other end and began the short walk to the Viatorum HQ. Just as it came into view, Keira heard her phone ping with a message. She checked and saw that it was from Bryn.
Can you come to dinner tonight at mom’s? Felix and I have some news to share.
Keira’s jaw dropped as her mind went straight to marriage. Surely her sister wouldn’t be settling down with Felix so soon? They’d literally only just moved in together!
Keira quickly typed back her response, saying she would be there. She put her phone away—along with all thoughts of what Bryn’s announcement might be—and headed into the office.
It was already very busy inside. Since Lance had gone on a hiring spree and added a load of plucky new college grads and interns—something Elliot had not been particularly thrilled by—the office had become increasingly busy. And since it was located in a large open-plan converted warehouse, the noise was amplified tenfold.
“Hey, Keira,” someone called, and she looked over to see Meredith waving.
Keira hadn’t forgotten about Meredith’s underhanded attempt to steal her last assignment from her, so she greeted her with a somewhat frosty, “Good morning.”
She scanned the faces before her, searching for someone familiar, and saw Nina. But before she had a chance to beeline for her old friend, Elliot came hurrying out of his office. He was wearing a bright red suit, and he was frowning deeply.
“Finally!” he yelled, coming right up to Keira and taking her by the elbow.
The whole office craned their heads to watch as Keira was marched toward Elliot’s office, her cheeks burning as red as his suit.
“Finally what?” Keira asked out of the corner of her mouth as she was half-dragged through the aisle.
“Finally you’re here!” Elliot exclaimed.
They made it to his office and he slammed the door shut.
“What happened to the open-door policy?” Keira quipped. It had been one of many fluffy policies Lance had imposed on the office when he’d bought the magazine.
“Trust me, you’ll be glad I closed the door,” Elliot huffed.
“Am I in some kind of trouble?” Keira asked, folding her arms. She didn’t enjoy being frog-marched through the office like that, and she definitely didn’t appreciate the tone Elliot was taking with her.
He faced her, arms folded. “I told you the deadline was final. Yet still, you’re pushing it. Are you trying to give me a pulmonary embolism?”
“Pushing it? What do you mean?” Keira replied, confused. “You gave me until today. And unless it’s somehow unclear, today is today!”
Elliot’s frown grew even deeper. “Don’t get smart with me, Keira. You know full well the printers need the article by nine a.m. at the latest. It’s eight forty-five.”
Keira let out a silent gasp. She hadn’t realized Elliot meant final deadline as in straight-to-print! Usually her articles went through at least a couple of rounds of edits with Nina before making it to the page.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I misunderstood.”
Elliot glowered. He was having none of it. He held his hand out, palm up. “Hand it over then. This had better be good. Because it’s all on you, Keira. One hundred percent your words. One hundred percent your responsibility.”
She gulped as the weight of that sunk in. Could she be fired off the back of a bad article? Could the magazine fold because of her?
Quickly, Keira rummaged in her bag and pulled out the hard copy of her article, along with the thumb drive she’d saved the original to. Elliot snatched the paper copy and sat heavily in his chair. Keira watched on nervously as he read her words.
Time seemed to stretch on for eternity. Keira peered back over her shoulder to see the rest of the office watching her; some stealing tentative glances from their desks, others more brazenly gawping at the entire proceedings. Her stomach swilled.
In his office chair, one leg folded stiffly over the other, his eyebrows drawn together, Elliot turned to the last page. This was the part no eyes other than Keira’s had ever seen, the section she’d worked on during the flight back from Sweden. As Elliot’s eyes scanned from left to right, Keira’s unease grew more and more, and Elliot’s jaw grew tighter and tighter.
Finally, he looked up, nostrils flared. “What the hell is this!”
Keira recoiled. She couldn’t have anticipated a worse thing for him to say.
“What’s wrong with it?” she asked, racking her brains for any obvious errors. Had she accidentally used the wrong country name; Switzerland, perhaps, instead of Sweden?
“What’s wrong?” Elliot repeated, growing more and more irate. “What’s wrong is that you’re a romance writer who can’t write a goddamn romantic ending! Juliet didn’t dump Romeo! Lizzy Bennet didn’t leave Mr. Darcy at the airport! And Catherine didn’t just let it fizzle out with Heathcliff!”
“To be fair, none of those are particularly healthy examples of romanti—”
“I don’t care!” Elliot snapped, cutting her off. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but romance isn’t exactly my forte. But even I know that the two leads don’t just maturely decide to break up! Shane had the whole dead dad thing. Gold! Cristiano was the spurned lothario. Magic! But Milo? Milo just… what… drifts away?”
Keira swallowed hard. She couldn’t exactly defend herself. “I don’t know what to tell you. It’s the truth, and I think my readers appreciate that. I couldn’t lie about how the Scandinavians approach relationships or about what I learned while I was there.”
Elliot shook the paper. “You’ve literally said here that what you shared with Milo can’t be labeled! Keira, your whole purpose it to write about relationships and you won’t even call it what it is!” He took a deep breath and sunk his head into his hands. “The readers are going to hate this.”
“I disagree,” Keira replied boldly. “I’ve met my readers all over the globe. They want the truth. They respect my honesty.”
But Elliot wasn’t listening. “There’s no time for a rewrite. We’re doomed.”
“I know my readers,” Keira said more insistently. “You have to trust me.”
And seeing that Elliot was still muttering to himself and not paying her any attention, she slammed her fist against his desktop. He jerked up, startled.
“Trust me,” Keira said again, sternly, through her teeth. “I know what I’m doing.”
Elliot glared at her silently for a long time. Finally, he spoke. “You’d better be right.”
- Writer
