Lucy Danaher was a daydreamer. She always had been, dating back to the first grade when she used to get into trouble for staring out the window at the swirling clouds rather than paying attention during handwriting instruction. As an unfortunate result, she’d never really mastered the cursive S and lived in shame.
Simpler times, she thought with a smile as she stared dreamily out her twenty-ninth-floor office window, struck at the way the big fluffy white cloud above the skyline looked soft enough to sleep on. Lucy did that a lot, the staring at work, because the San Diego skyline, the dips and leaps that framed the high-rises, never ceased to transfix her and carry her away from the hustle and bustle of the office.
“Luce, your two o’clock is here,” her assistant Trevor said from the doorway of her office. A glance at the planner on her monitor reminded her that she’d agreed to meet with that reporter she’d been playing phone tag with. Something about a feature story and how it came to garner the attention it did. While she had a million things on her plate, she knew it was never wise to turn down a little PR, and better to raise awareness about their industry. Not a lot of people understood the concept of a newswire service, and it was important they took every chance they could get to educate the public. That little feature story the reporter wanted to discuss had been picked up in over twenty-five regional newspapers, all because of the press release they’d put on the wire. It should be an easy interview, and then she’d get back to working with legal on the contract language and figuring out how to convince the Dallas editors to not make so many transmission errors.
“Got it,” she said, turning back to Trevor. “Give me a minute to grab some notes, and send him in.” She was happy to meet with the guy and toot Global NewsWire’s horn a bit. In the end, it just meant more business, and as the CEO of a multi-million-dollar company, that’s what she was all about. She checked herself in her compact just to make sure she was presentable, running a hand through her long dark hair to fluff it some. She’d worn it down today and questioned that choice now, especially if there was going to be a photo. She applied a touch of lip gloss and turned at the sound of the door opening, smiling, already in people mode. She was good at people mode, and it had landed her where she was, but she didn’t relish it as it related to business. She did, however, relish the salary. GNW took good care of her, making money a distant concern.
“Ms. Danaher?” Whoa. She locked eyes with a statuesque blonde whom she was not at all expecting. Wait, hadn’t Trevor written down the name Kris? She glanced absently at her computer screen before refocusing on the looker. She wore jeans and a white cotton button-up, untucked, but slim fitting. Straight blond hair fell to her shoulders and sea-green eyes sparkled at Lucy in greeting. This was not the reporter she was expecting to see.
“Call me Lucy.” She extended her hand. “And you are?”
“Kristin James of the Union-Tribune,” the woman said, grasping it. Firm handshake, but not too firm, which meant she knew what she was doing. She had Lucy’s attention.
And aha, Kris in her appointment book must, in fact, be Kristin.
The day was looking up. Regardless, she made a mental note to discuss gender-neutral names with Trevor at her next opportunity. Kristin wore a low heel, but Lucy had her pegged at maybe five-seven, a good two inches taller than her. Nothing she couldn’t remedy with a strategic heel of her own. “Please sit down. Can I offer you something to drink?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.” Kristin glanced around. “Wow. I love your office. The view is breathtaking. If I worked here, I don’t know if I’d ever get any work done.”
“It’s a struggle I don’t always win,” Lucy said, following Kristin’s gaze to the skyline behind her, understanding Kristin’s sentiment more than she realized. “But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
Kristin studied her. “You’re young for a CEO. I was expecting someone, I don’t know, buttoned up and a lot stuffier. A nice surprise.”
Lucy sent Kristin her best smile. “I think that’s a compliment.”
Kristin held her gaze and nodded. “It definitely is.” This was going well. She liked this Kristin. Her interest was piqued on multiple levels.
“What about you? Have you been with the paper long?”
“Not too long, no. I moved to San Diego just last month from a suburb of San Francisco.”
“I love San Francisco. Making friends yet?” Lucy asked.
“Here and there. My biggest learning curve has been navigating your highways. I’m just now starting to really get my bearings.”
“Traffic can be ridiculous, but it’s a great way to come up with a killer grocery list.” Lucy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and circled back behind her desk. “Please, have a seat.”
Kristin sat in the leather club chair across from Lucy’s desk and held up a digital recorder from her messenger bag. “Do you mind if I record our interaction?”
“Not at all.”
“Great,” Kristin said, smiling. Her eyes really were a remarkably vibrant color, especially against that crisp white shirt. “Shall we get started?”
Lucy made a sweeping motion with her hand and took a seat behind her desk. “By all means.”
Kristin sat back and consulted her notes before raising her gaze and speaking into the recorder. “This is Kristin James interviewing Lucy Danaher of Global NewsWire on the afternoon of May twelfth. Ms. Danaher, GNW recently ran a press release about a young man who rescued a school bus that stalled out on a rural railroad track as a train approached. Since that time the story has inarguably received a great deal of attention in the media.”
“That’s true,” Lucy said, grinning. “Our Des Moines office ran the release, putting it on the wire. A large number of regional papers with high circulation picked up the story and ran it as a prominent feature. We were happy to get it out there in the world, and I think this example shows how far our reach really is at GNW.”
“A feature story the San Diego Union-Tribune ran as well.”
“Yes, we were thrilled to see that. The story is not only an exciting one, but quite touching on a basic human level. The gentleman who saved those children”—she referred to the file folder on her desk with the clippings—“Jonathan Ableman, is a true hero. He deserves every bit of attention he receives.”
The sides of Kristin’s mouth seemed to tug and she sat there for a moment. Given the silence, Lucy wondered if she should expand upon her answer, but Kristin beat her there. “Interesting, the classification of Mr. Ableman as a hero. You’re certainly not the only one who thinks so.”
Lucy smiled, unsure of the point of the comment. “You disagree?”
“Let me ask you a question first. A newswire service like yours is more or less a wire for hire, correct? People pay you to send out press releases to a much wider audience than they could ever reach on their own, correct?”
“Quite true. Our clients use our services to distribute newsworthy information via press release to global, national, and regional circuits. The client selects a circuit and we send out the release for them. The wire, on the other side of things, is a prominent tool for news organizations gathering stories.”
“With your company’s name at the bottom of the release.”
Lucy sat forward, trying to anticipate what it was this woman was angling at. “Each release is labeled as a GNW transmission when it’s sent out, yes.”
“In that case, don’t you feel a responsibility to make sure that the information you’re transmitting is credible?”
Wow. Okay. She took a moment because it felt like she’d walked into something here. “While it’s true we keep a watch on the content our clients ask us to transmit, and an editor reads and proofs each release before sending it out, the responsibility to authenticate the information ultimately falls on the client.”
“So you pass the buck?”
“No, not at all,” Lucy said, making sure to keep her voice calm, even keeled. “But we process thousands of releases during a twenty-four-hour period. We can’t fact check each one any more than UPS can go through every package that comes into its warehouse. Plus, each story is sourced at the bottom of the release with the name of the PR firm requesting transmission. We’re a delivery service and don’t claim to be anything more.”
“Thereby you take no responsibility if the public is misinformed based on one of your transmissions?”
“Again, that falls to the client.” Honestly, Lucy wasn’t sure whether to zig or zag at these purposeful questions and wondered if she shouldn’t stop the meeting and refer all of this to legal. But, no, she could handle this woman, and she knew one thing for sure. When she and Emory, her best friend, built this company from the ground up, they’d believed in the work they did and she’d stand by it. She consulted the file in front of her. “In the case of this release, Mr. Ableman was represented by a public relations firm. We transmitted the release containing his story on our Feature Circuit, used by news agencies to pick up human-interest stories.”
“And that makes it acceptable? Because it came from a public relations firm?”
“It’s acceptable enough to not refuse service.”
“I see.”
“Are you saying his story is untrue?”
“I am.”
The exchange was now clipped and charged with an intensity Lucy hadn’t planned on when she agreed to participate in what she thought would be a fluffy accessory piece to the school bus story. This was so not how she envisioned her afternoon. This Kristin woman was a shark in sheep’s clothing.
She handed Lucy a file folder that seemed to contain the work of a private investigator. “There was a school bus,” Kristin said, pointing at a paragraph on the report. “It did stall out near a railroad track.” She held up one finger. “Not exactly on one, but close enough to be dangerous. A group of nearby farmers worked together to move the bus to safety, but it seems Mr. Ableman was not one of them. In fact, he’s not known to any of the farmers, nor can the school bus driver authenticate ever seeing him there. No one in that town has even heard of the guy, nor do they recognize his photo.”
Perfect. Lucy dropped the folder in annoyance. “So he made it all up?”
“It seems he insinuated himself into an existing story and sensationalized it.”
Lucy shook her head. “That’s horrible.”
“It is. What’s worse is that hundreds and thousands of citizens across the nation were able to hear his story because Global NewsWire put it into the world as fact.”
“We’ll issue a retraction,” Lucy said quietly.
“I think that might help.”
Lucy rubbed her forehead. “So this is an exposé that you’re working on, not a feature?”
“I’m writing a piece examining the importance of truth in the stories we pass on in our society or, rather, the lack of importance. A number of national scandals from news anchors to authors fabricating facts have dominated headlines over the last few years. Jonathan Ableman is a local example of a perpetuated untruth.”
“I see.”
Kristin picked up her recorder. “I think I got everything I need here. Thank you so much for speaking with me today.”
Lucy stood. “So you’re going to include GNW in this story? Ms. James, we were duped just as much as the rest of the world.”
Kristin offered a polite smile and Lucy now wanted to roll her eyes at how beautiful this woman was. The universe’s way of playing a mean joke on her, clearly. “I’m just gathering some facts at this point,” Kristin said.
“Well, I encourage you to give it some thought before running with it.”
“Of course.” Kristin nodded courteously. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.” And then the blonde with the eyes was gone.
“Easy for you to say,” Lucy muttered to the empty room. She reached for her cell and called Emory, who was off that day. Two years ago, when Emory met Sarah, the love of her life, she’d made some changes to her lifestyle, and handing Lucy the reins at GNW had been one of them.
“What’s up, Luce?” Emory said upon answering.
Lucy swiveled in her chair, dropping the corporate powerhouse persona. “It’s been a day. I might die if we can’t do drinks. Can we? This is the part where you say yes.”
She heard Emory laugh quietly on the other end of the phone. “I think I can swing drinks. Sarah will be with Grace at her gymnastics lesson.” When Sarah moved in with Emory, they’d made the decision to raise Sarah’s ten-year-old daughter, Grace, together. The kid was a riot. Precocious, quirky, and fun.
“Gymnastics class is perfect,” Lucy said. “I love tumblers. Especially drinking from them. You in?”
“Are you planning to be dramatic?”
“I can’t promise I won’t be, because I am dramatic and did you not just hear me say I had a day? Because I did. I had a day, and I’ll need appropriate friend support paired with a cocktail of my choosing.”
“Those are two things I can do. Meet me at the Lavender Room at six?”
“With bells on. And I’m not kidding. I’m stopping and buying bells. I’ll need them to cheer me up. I’m stressed.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
*
It was a quarter to six when Lucy made it home, which meant she would sadly be late for drinks with Emory. Even more tragically, it happened a lot. Something she was working on, though the nature of her high-status job didn’t help. When you were in charge, people tended to wait on you without complaint, and she would never want to take advantage of that. Lazy and entitled were two things she did not aspire to be. She fired off an apologetic text to Emory so she wouldn’t race over to the bar and made her way into her small beach house and slipped out of her heels, scrunching her toes that were at long last free from the endless day.
Instantly, she heard the click, click, click of tiny paws on the aged hardwood. Her Yorkshire terrier, Bernadette Peters, appeared in tail-wagging greeting. “Why, hello there, you tiny bundle of love.” Bernadette Peters licked her face happily, her whole body shaking in excitement because at long last her owner was home. “I missed you too. Let’s get you some dinner and a chew toy. What do you say?” Her answer was more shaking, which in Bernadette Peters speak translated to wholehearted agreement.
Lucy strode farther into the two-bedroom beach bungalow she’d come to adore. Her place wasn’t big like Emory’s beach house half a mile down the shoreline, but it was charming and it was hers. Her favorite spot on the back deck faced out over the water. She’d start her day with a cup of coffee and often end it out there with a nightcap, watching wave after wave roll in from the Pacific.
As soon as BP was fed and fawned over properly, Lucy quickly changed clothes from high-powered CEO to Everygirl about town in dark jeans and a midnight blue V-neck. She topped off her look with a long necklace and fruit punch lip gloss, pulling her hair back on the sides to complete the transformation. With keys in hand, she hopped into her silver Aston Martin and headed to the Lavender Room.
Emory was, of course, already there when she arrived, nursing a Kentucky Mule at a small table. “I got one for you too,” she said to Lucy and slid a drink her way.
“You’re the nicest to me.”
“I am. I’m so glad you noticed.”
The Lavender Room was a lesbian bar that knew how to do things right. Upscale in nature, the décor was classy. Through the center of the room stood a square mahogany bar with a row of cream-colored upholstered bar stools along each of its sides. Matching lighting fixtures with cream-colored shades hung from the ceilings, and jazzy piano music played from the bar’s speakers.
“I haven’t seen you in three days,” Lucy said. “What’s new? Give me your updates.”
Emory, her blond hair pulled into a subtle knot at the back of her neck, considered the question. “Grace wants to start her own talk show for ten-year-olds and has decided to practice interviewing people, which is code for Sarah and me. Today, the pint-sized Barbara Walters delved deep into my childhood and I’m not sure I’m over it.”
“She hasn’t asked to interview me yet.”
“Trust me. The clock is ticking.”
“And how’s Sarah?”
“Busy, but happy. She’s working on a whole list of summer activities for when Grace gets out of school. The word Disney may have been tossed around.”
Lucy regarded Emory, amazed at the woman she’d become. “Who would have thought two years ago that Emory Owen would don a pair of mouse ears and sing ‘It’s a Small World’ while riding Dumbo?”
Emory winced. “I’m not sure I’d go that far.”
“Well, I have to. It’s happening.”
Emory laughed and stirred her drink absently. “So what happened to you today? Why all the over-the-top lamenting on the phone?”
“Do you remember the school bus feature that snagged all of that attention four months back?”
“I do.”
“The guy made it all up. Or at least made up his part in it.”
Emory sat back. “Shit. Seriously?”
“Yeah. And without knowing this, I agreed to talk to a Union-Trib reporter about the story and walked blindly into her trap.”
“Her trap?”
“Yep, Kristin something, whose main goal in life is apparently calling me onto the carpet for running the release.”
Emory laughed it off. “That’s ridiculous. We’re a wire service and not responsible for the journalistic integrity of others. Don’t sweat it.”
“Trust me. I get that, but the Miss America of news reporters I spoke with this afternoon sees things very differently. This could be some really bad PR, and I hate bad PR.”
“I’m sorry, Miss America?”
Lucy sat back in her chair and sighed. “Miss America with an ax to grind is more accurate. Miss America with an evil streak. A vengeful side. There’ll probably be a movie about her one day. Wes Craven style.”
“1990 would like that reference back.”
“Still. You should have seen her, all beautiful and unaffected. Like she was the morality police and I was in major violation and not capable of her divine understanding of journalistic integrity.” Emory smiled at her. “What? What are you smiling at?”
“It’s just very rare that someone gets to you like this.”
Lucy set her drink down in defeat. “Yeah, well, I felt attacked.”
“I can see that. But you know what? It’s not your fault, nor is it the fault of the company. We had no way of knowing.”
“Right? Why couldn’t she see that?” She turned her head and followed the progress of a blonde on her way to the bar, pausing because Lucy wasn’t sure she was actually seeing what she seemed to be seeing. No way. It couldn’t be. What were the odds?
“Luce? You okay over there?”
She turned back to Emory, heat flaring in her chest. “She’s here.”
“Who’s here?”
“Evil reporter. She’s here in this room.”
“Oh, show her to me! I need to see this woman.”
“Don’t you dare be obvious, but she’s at the bar, looking perfect and superior.”
Emory delayed a moment before casually turning her head in the direction of the bar, where Kristin seemed to have taken a seat. “She’s pretty. You were right.”
Lucy shook her head in warning. “Don’t let it fool you.”
“And gay apparently.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“Well, she’s at a well-known gay bar so I’m going to wager the chances are good. I’m quite astute, you know.”
Lucy shrugged. “She’s fairly new to town. Maybe she’s trying to meet people.”
“Yeah,” Emory said. “Gay people.”
“So she’s a lesbian,” Lucy said to herself, mulling that over. “Well, not entirely shocking. There was some mild flirting before she set out to destroy me and everything I stand for.”
Emory held her thumb and forefinger close together. “Maybe a little dramatic again. Why don’t you go talk to her?”
“That’s the craziest thing you’ve ever said to me. Should I parasail naked next? Why would I talk to her?”
“Because you’re clearly bothered by the whole experience. Maybe,” Emory said calmly, “this is your chance to smooth things over.”
Damn it. Lucy hated it when Emory made valid points. She took another drink, hoping the alcohol would numb her senses a bit, especially if she was going to face Ms. Kristin James. She set the empty glass on the table. “If I don’t return, call for help.”
Emory held up her phone. “On it.”
Lucy gave her head a little what-the-hell shake and stepped up to the bar alongside Kristin. “Vodka martini,” she said to the bartender. “Two olives.”
Kristin glanced her way and offered a smile in greeting. “Ms. Danaher.”
“Ms. James.” Lucy realized her voice sounded cold, aloof, which prompted her to pause, reminding herself that the goal here was to deliver some sort of peace offering. There were olives in her drink. Maybe she could fashion a branch of some sort. “Listen to us,” Lucy said lightly. “I thought we’d done away with the formalities. I’ll call you Kristin if you’ll call me Lucy.”
“We should definitely give that a shot.”
The bartender placed a martini in front of Lucy and she sipped it lightly. “I haven’t seen you in here before. Are you stalking me?”
Kristin nodded. “Desperately. How did you know?”
Lucy smiled. “I can’t reveal all my secrets,” she said, which earned a polite laugh.
“I come in for a drink after work on occasion,” Kristin said, “but only once in a while. It’s a nice little spot.”
“I think so too,” Lucy said. “My friends and I love it.” Kristin had a great mouth, kind of pouty and full. She gave herself a mental shake. This was the woman who’d slammed her in her office only a few hours prior. How was it that Lucy was now irrationally captivated by her very attractive lips? The bottom one especially, as it—stop it. Sometimes she didn’t understand herself.
“About earlier today,” Kristin said, swiveling her stool in Lucy’s direction. “I hope there are no hard feelings about the interview. You seem like a nice enough person.”
That was her, the nicest. “Of course not. And to prove it, let me get your drink.”
Kristin held up a hand. “Oh no. I couldn’t let you do that.”
“But I want to,” Lucy said, meeting the green eyes that wouldn’t stop. The bartender, having heard their conversation, nodded and accepted Lucy’s American Express.
“That’s very generous of you,” Kristin said, raising her glass. “I don’t know a ton of people in town, so when someone does something nice…well, it resonates. So thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Lucy said. “And now you’ve met me, so you know one more person.”
“This is a valid and encouraging point.” And then, “You’re welcome to sit.”
Aha, an invitation. “Maybe just for a minute, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
Lucy slid onto the stool next to Kristin’s. “Good, because if I’m being honest, I didn’t like how we left things at my office. I’m not sure we ever saw eye to eye.”
Kristin moved her head side to side as if considering this. “No, perhaps not. But maybe we don’t have to agree in order to be friends.”
She pushed the comment aside and focused on her goal. “But I was hopeful that I could get you to understand.”
“Why GNW ran the press release?” Kristin asked.
“Yes. Because, as I said, it’s not our job to differentiate.”
“I realize that’s how you feel, but that kind of outlook doesn’t do a lot of people any good. If it weren’t for that not-our-fault policy, there wouldn’t have been thirty-two erroneously run news stories throwing a literary parade for a bald-faced liar.”
“We didn’t set out to deceive anyone.” Her eyes met Kristin’s and she decided to just be honest with her and ask for what she sought. “Please don’t include us in this story.”
Kristin closed her eyes momentarily. “You want the story killed.”
“Not killed. Just for you to leave GNW out of it.”
“So that’s what this is?” Kristin held up the drink halfheartedly. “Not a token of friendship at all, but a negotiating tactic.”
Lucy didn’t know what to say to that because voiced out loud, coupled with the dejected look on Kristin’s face, her actions now seemed a little low. “No, it was both.”
Kristin stood. “I understand. And it’s fine. But I should probably get home.”
Lucy stood there, feeling not only like she’d dug herself further into a hole with the story, but she also seemed to have hurt Kristin’s feelings. Apparently, she had some. Who knew? “Kristin, for what it’s worth, I didn’t mean to—”
“All is well. Enjoy your night.”
Lucy stood there experiencing full-on crash and burn as Kristin left the bar. She headed slowly back to Emory, who smiled up sympathetically. “That didn’t look like it went so well.”
“That’s because it didn’t. She hates me,” Lucy said, plopping down into the chair like a petulant child.
“Who could hate you?”
“Right?”
“And while I’d love to stay a little longer and list the many attributes that make you amazing, I need to head home and whip something up for dinner.”
Lucy sighed. “I figured you’d be out after one drink. It’s okay.” While she adored Sarah and Grace more than was even possible, there were times when she missed her friend and the old days when they stayed out late, chatting about life or strategizing about the business. In all honesty, she felt a little lonely as of late.
“Keep your chin up, Luce. Everything will be all right.”
“Sung by the Killers on the album Hot Fuss in 2004.”
Emory shook her head. “How are you able to do that?”
Lucy grinned. “It’s a gift. One of many.”