Ten

After our meeting, Trisha handed us off to our elderly editors, who spent the rest of the morning guiding us through the way journalism works at The Press.

The three of us were latterly put in other groups and I was placed in a platoon that reported about crime. My elderly editor, Roger, was an aged joe in his early 60s. He was gruff and educated but I can tell there is a band of dark humor running through him. Necessary, I guess, for the joe in charge of covering all the bad stuff that goes on in the world.

I can not believe I was going over this training again.

I tried my hardest to concentrate on the job, not anything different. I made musketeers with the other staff pens on my platoon. Marcus wrote about fiscal crime. Lydia reported internationally. Seth covered Canada.

But at the reverse of my mind, I wonder if I will indeed still be then come the weekend or if Cole had other plans for me. I wondered If I should indeed bother learning about all this through this job when I am going to have to pack up my stuff by the end of the week.

No. I refuse to give up so fluently.

We met in a bar, it was just fate.

We fucked and loved it, it was lust and it could be to anyone, and if Cole abominated himself for having to see me again while we worked in the same workspace, also OK.

Just before lunch, Steph gave us our meeting times for this autumn. I am last. Great. By the time 230 comes around, I will presumably have failed from the dread of it.

Over the break, I excused myself from Oli and Ryan, who anticipated I to join them for lunch. I told them I've to take a call. But really, it's time to come up with a plan.

I do some introductory exploration on the Internet about HR and sexual importunity and labor laws.

Job termination after sexual relationship

A bunch of coffers came up. My eyes took in composition after composition. Okay. So, you can not be fired just for having a sexual relationship with a superior. That is called importunity.

But. oh. The coming composition said that connections must be bared to Human Resources.

Also, there was a blog post by a nanny who said her associates treated her like shit after they plant out she had slept with a sanitarium director. When she was promoted people assumed it was because of their relationship. It came so bad she had to quit and also no one wanted to hire her. Damn it.

When I joined Oli and Ryan again, I plastered a smile on my face and tried to look engaged as we talked about their assignment brigades. I didn't picture Ryan as the kind of intelligencer who wanted to be wedged covering Entertainment news. But it's clear he loves it, or perhaps. Celebrities and pictures and music and sports. I guess he does have a thing for gossip.

Oli was in Business and Economics. As soon as he started talking about Dow Jones I stopped understanding what was going on. Like Duh!

Edith joined at our table

“ No sitting with the freshers.” I rumored to her. She signed it off and laughed

“ You talked to the dude?”

I shook my head and she nudged me, her sandwich falling from her fritters. In a low voice, she said," Have you lost it, we need you back at the open office"

. I could not help but laugh, I mean we had a small work community and I was just snared off from it without warning.

I replied." I miss it too."

“ What kind of stuff does the messy hair dude do?” Edith asked in low tune but Ryan heard and chimed in replying "He is assigned to Politics. So he must be good. "He was right. Politics is one of those effects journalists make fat, successful careers reporting on. It was the most competitive position in the recent-mongrel program, right above Crime.

Edith raised an eyebrow. "Politics. Of course. He seems kind of muddy, does not he?"

. Ryan and I could not help but laugh.

A little before half- history noon, Oli packs up his stuff and gave Ryan a wink and a mischievous grin.

Oh Oli, just changeable.

" Wish me luck, musketeers. I had my first meeting with the o- so-mysterious Mr. Anderson. "He leaned in and ruminated between Ryan's observance and mine," I just can't."

Intriguing.

I rolled my eyes, refusing to note. But I can formerly picture his face, the dark swells of his hair, and those haunting, sparkling blue eyes. There is a flutter low in my stomach from the memory of us, tangled together Friday night.

My stomach was in knots the entire autumn. Roger gave me the assignment to work on, to explore medicine trafficking in the Greater Toronto Area. It's a big job, and I sink my teeth into it, glad for the distraction.

I was into public drama

The rest of the intelligencers for Crime are probative and helpful. I look into once paper reports from agents, and photos.

The deeper I dig, the further sophisticated this lead seems. I love a good riddle.

Everything about this was so damn perfect. My heart thuds sorrowfully with the study of giving it up.

When my watch read at 215, I stepped into the foamy clean restroom and took a good, long look at myself in the glass.

My light brown hair falls straight, just above my shoulders. My cheeks were a little pink from the jitters. My watercolor pencil skirt fit well and my white blouse didn't have a single wrinkle. My foundation made my skin look indefectible. I touched up my camo and stood altitudinous, meeting my own aspect through the glass. You're a professional. You can do this. It'll be okay. It's only temporal, everything will be back to normal.

No, it will not. But I've to try to save this job with everything in me.