The doors sprung open and Evie stormed out into the lobby. She was red-faced and on the verge of tears. People were staring, but she found peace in the fact that she would never see them again.
Suddenly there were footsteps padding quickly along the marble, and somebody was shouting her name. It echoed through the lobby like the halls of a hospital. For a moment, people stopped, but soon resumed their business as they realized there would be no drama unfolding today.
Evie stopped and turned, spotting Conan Reed jogging toward her. What could he possibly say now that wouldn’t make her feel more like a fool? Realizing there was nothing, she simply rolled her eyes and continued toward the door.
“Miss Black, please.” He finally caught up to her, placing a hand on the glass door and preventing her from opening it. “I wanted to make sure that you were okay.”
“I’m not okay,” Evie said. It was louder than talking but quieter than shouting—enough to make her point known. Besides, it wasn’t like she could lose her job, so shouldn’t she stand up for herself? “That was all different kinds of humiliating, and not a single person came to my defense. If that’s the kind of company this is, I’d rather not be a part of it.”
She tried the door again, but Conan was far stronger than he looked. “I can’t apologize enough, but maybe giving you the column would be a good way to start.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s yours, Miss Black.” Conan let go of the door and looked right at her. His features were subtle, but his eyes were a sharp blue. He had a trustworthy face, and even male-pattern baldness seemed to suit him. “If you think you can fill it, the column is yours.”
It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from telling him to get lost. Ever since she was a teenager, she had molded her morals into a strict guideline and followed them to the letter. However, it had never gotten her where she’d needed to be, and now that an opportunity had come knocking, she could at least consider betraying herself for a moment.
“I really am sorry that this happened to you,” Conan said.
Evie nodded her head, snapping out of her thoughtful trance. “Okay. Thank you.”
“You’ll do it?”
“I’ll do it.”
“Great.” Conan breathed a sigh of relief and stepped back from the door, grinning. “Well, the theme is injustice. Strictly for balance, we want to show a side of New York where people can be misled by the media.”
“But we are the media,” Evie said, feeling it was too soon to use the word we.
“Indeed. Look, almost every story in the past year has been about war, terrorism, and all other forms of violence. If we can, we need to stick with that subject. But ideally, we would stop people from pointing the blame at somebody and simply realize what was lost. Too often we’re told to hate this person and that person because of what they did. But when do we ever take the time to step back and remember what’s been lost? We never form our own opinions anymore, and we need to address that.”
As well as experiencing newfound respect for Vision Magazine and its chief, Evie was intrigued by the angle. “It’s strong, but risky.”
“Yep.”
Evie looked down at her shoes, tapping her toes and mulling it over. “How long?”
“Ten days, max.”
Wow. That was barely long enough to get the story, much less write it and do it well. But it was that or making coffee for a tableful of assholes, and she wasn’t about to get back on that path. “Fine. Leave it with me.” Evie pushed open the door, stopping briefly. “And Conan?”
“Yeah?”
“If you had taken the time to Google me, you would know that you’re not taking too big a risk.” With that, she let go of the door and let it swing shut behind her. She had made an offer, been handed a job, and now she had to prove herself. Which, she thought, would have been a lot easier if she knew what the hell she was going to write about.