As I hung up, a shadow fell across my desk. It was Selena.
“Oh, Lanie,” she cooed. “This is terrible.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll survive.”
“Of course, you will. But what about your column?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, really, it’s clear, isn’t it? What you should do—for the sake of the paper?”
I have to admit my tongue failed me. Hours later, in hindsight, I thought of a million things I could’ve, should’ve, said. But at the moment, nothing occurred to me.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t have the guts to make the right decision. Someone else already has.”
She pointed to the glass fish tank of Sam’s office. He was on the telephone, listening tensely. He started to argue, apparently got cut off and gritted his teeth. The speaker must’ve paused because Sam jumped in, his hand movements emphatic.
“That’s George Ramsey on the line. He’s ripping Sam a new one. It doesn’t take much to figure out why, does it?”
Her enjoyment of Sam’s predicament surprised me even more than her vulgarity. But then I realized it shouldn’t have.
Sam’s conversation ended. He dropped the receiver onto the phone cradle and let his hand rest on it. His other hand balled into a fist. He looked up through the glass walls and his gaze locked onto mine.
“Uh-oh,” Selena said. “I guess your time has come.”
I nearly told her that if she didn’t get away from me, hers would, too. Instead, I mentally shoved her aside and walked past the desks to Sam’s office. He stood when I entered and ran a nervous hand over his head.
“Was that who I think it was?” I asked, closing the door.
He gestured for me to sit down. I didn’t want to, but he said please, so I did.
“Lanie, I’ve asked you this before. You did answer me, but I feel I have to ask it once more.”
I waited. When he hesitated, I prompted him. “Well, what is it?”
“Are you happy here? Are you happy in your job and happy at this paper?”
It wasn’t what I expected. “Ramsey told you to ask me that?”
“No, he thinks he knows the answer. It’s me who’s asking.”
I nodded. “I see. Does it matter what I say?”
“Yes, it does.”
I believed him. Still I was wary. “I don’t like games, Sam. If Ramsey gave you a message for me, then please just deliver it.”
“It’s no game. And I’m no messenger boy.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
He tapped his pen on his desk. “I’m going to have to suggest that you take some time off to rethink your affiliation with the paper.”
“Is that a pretty way of asking me to quit?”
“It’s a way of asking you to think.”
His words hurt.
“You know, I didn’t expect much from Ramsey, but from you I … I thought—”
“I did my best. But Canfield’s pulling some mighty strings. Ramsey wanted me to fire you. He wanted your scalp and he wanted it now. And I’m on his shit list for having run the initial column to begin with. You wrote it, but the decision to print it was mine. So he thought about getting rid of both of us.”
“What stopped him?”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. But I did tell him he’d regret it if he made a quick decision. Finally, he agreed to you just taking time off.”
“So I’m suspended?
“Don’t think of it that way.”
“And I could still be fired?”
“We both could be. At any time. But what I want you to think about is whether you really want this job to begin with. Seems to me, you want to do something else entirely.”
“I’m quite hap—”
He held a hand up. “Let’s not discuss it now. Take the time. You need it.”
“All right then. I’ll go immediately.” I stood to go.
“Don’t leave angry.”
“I have a right to be angry, Sam. But not at you.”
“Lanie––”
He spoke to my back. I was already on my way out.