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9 A.M., WEDNESDAY, Jan. 12, 2022 OHSU — Ryan Matthews got an early call from OHSU. He had childcare responsibilities today; Teresa had classes, including an 8:30 a.m. Honors seminar. The nurse at the clinic said Will was really agitated and threatening to sign himself out and leave.
“He shouldn’t go yet, Ryan,” the nurse said. “His eyes are still unevenly dilated, and we haven’t gotten the MRI results back. You need to come talk to him. He’s ranting about last night’s newscast.”
Ryan frowned at the last. Will? Ranting? And what was his problem with the newscast? They’d both been in the newsroom for it. He hadn’t said anything then. Of course, he’d also been completely out of it. Ryan didn’t think Will had actually watched. He didn’t need this today of all days. He was their adviser, not their nanny.
And Will’s friend. They’d been friends before he became an adviser. Maybe advising would become easier after that generation of staff graduated. He sighed.
“Let me find someone to babysit, and I’ll come up,” he promised. He knocked on Maddie’s door to see if she was back from her morning shift. She wasn’t. He hesitated and then knocked on Joe Castro’s door.
Joe Castro had been a surprise, Ryan thought. He’d mentally categorized him as the stoner photographer. As Blair had said once, every newsroom was required to have one, and Joe was theirs. But he was more than that — he’d taken on the responsibility of his three younger siblings 10 days ago without any hesitation. The four of them were living in some unused rooms of the house, and Ryan had scheduled a contractor to remodel that part of the house into an apartment. The Castros were now a permanent part of the Portland Heights house.
“You up for some babysitting?” Ryan asked. He explained about Will.
Joe blinked. “Your kids?” he shrugged. “Sure.” The nonchalance of a guy who grew up in a big household, Ryan thought with amusement. “Ruby have a bottle?”
“There’s one waiting for her,” Ryan promised. “And all you need for Rafael is a book if he asks.”
Joe grabbed a book from his own backpack and headed downstairs to the bedrooms on the Matthews side of the house. “I’m good,” he said. “Go sort out Will.”
And this was why Ryan liked turning the big house into condos — the word the planning commission preferred to apartments. He wasn’t clear about the difference. Emily and Cage had the top floor — they called it the Penthouse. Ryan and Teresa had the bottom three floors, south of the elevator. Maddie and her daughter Jazzy had an apartment north of the elevator on the second floor. Joe and his siblings would have an apartment north of the elevator on the third floor.
He liked the house, all 6,000 square feet of it. It was made of cedar in a Japanese/Northwest style, and stair-stepped down the hillside and provided glorious views of the city, the rivers and Mt. Hood. But who the hell needed a house this large? He liked the sense of community this gave him; and all the people chased away the ghosts of his childhood. Win-win.
And there were usually babysitters. Triple win.
Ryan drove over to the clinic and parked. He put on his mask and went inside. The nurse just rolled her eyes and motioned with her head toward the hallway. “Second room on the left,” she said with disgust.
Ryan nodded, wondering exactly what Will had done to provoke her. He knocked lightly on the door and opened it. Will was out of bed and searching for something. His clothes, Ryan guessed.
“What are you doing?” Ryan asked.
Will glared at him. “I want to go home.”
“Your eyes are still dilated unevenly,” Ryan said calmly. “You need to stay until they make sure nothing is seriously wrong with you. And then they’ll gladly show you to the door, because you’ve been acting like an ass.”
Will sighed dramatically. “They called you?” He flopped back on the bed. Ryan tugged sheets over him and sat down in the chair next to the bed.
“What’s got you in such an uproar?” he asked.
“Did you see the show last night?” Will asked angrily. “We missed the story. Look at how everyone else covered it! We screwed up. Blair isn’t the editor she thinks she is.”
Ryan frowned at him. “Will, we were both there last night when the newscast was going. You didn’t say anything then. And second? Blair didn’t organize the show, Ben did. Blair covered the keynote speech, remember? And Blair is one of the finest news editors I’ve seen. Better than I was. Probably as good as Emily, and that’s saying something.”
“She thinks she’s better than I am,” Will said. “Smarter, a better editor, better with people.” He paused. “The last is probably true,” he allowed.
Ryan snorted. “Probably?”
He looked at Will. “You realize that Blair is likely to be the EIC next year, right? News editors are usually next in line. Can you work for her as a reporter? I assume that’s what you want to return to.”
Will was silent for a moment. “I applied for graduation,” he said. “End of spring term. I’ve started looking at internships and job openings. A bit early for jobs. But the Spokane paper has a paid year-long internship that I hear is really good.”
Ryan nodded. “And we’ve got alums at most of the newspapers in the Northwest,” he said. “They’ll help. Have you talked this over with Blair?”
“Not yet,” he admitted. “I was planning to propose on Valentine’s Day, and then we could talk about it. She’s fast-tracked — probably could graduate with me or at the end of summer at the latest, and then she could go with me wherever I land.”
“Have you talked this over with Blair?” Ryan repeated. “Is that what she wants? I didn’t get the impression she was thinking about graduating anytime soon.”
“I don’t want to go to a new place without her, Ryan,” Will said. “She’s so much better with people than I am. I think it’s because she comes from a wealthy family. She’s like you. She can fit in wherever she is. You’ve both been taught that from childhood. Unlike me. My family didn’t prepare me to fit in with any group except theirs — and I never did fit in there either.”
Ryan snorted at that. But the rest of what Will said worried him. Didn’t Will realize why Ryan could fit in like that? Will actually knew about Ryan’s childhood; most EWN staff didn’t. Abuse had taught him to be hyperaware of the cues of other people. It wasn’t psychologically healthy, for all it might look like a great social skill. He wondered what Blair had gone through that gave her those skills? He set that aside to think more about later. He really didn’t know much about Blair and maybe he should.
“I didn’t realize Blair’s family was wealthy?”
Will nodded. “Well, for Medford,” he said. “Her dad was the superintendent of schools until he retired a few years ago. Her mother was an attorney — she closed her practice to be able to travel with Mr. Williams, only then COVID hit and they haven’t been able to travel at all. We went down for Christmas. Mr. Williams told Blair to rent a car on her credit card for the trip.”
“I see,” Ryan said, although he didn’t really. But Will was less agitated and that was good. “Did you like them?”
Will nodded. “I wish I’d grown up in a home like that,” he said wistfully. Ryan knew he’d grown up in a blue-collar family in a small town south of Portland. He hated going home, not because he didn’t love them, but because he couldn’t relate to them anymore. They were Stop the Steal, Anti-vaxxers, Trump supporters. Will was by no means the most liberal in the newsroom, but his family was appalled that PSU had corrupted their son and turned him into a Black Lives Matter supporting libtard.
“What are they like?” Ryan asked.
Will talked about their home and about how Mr. Williams was smart and so in charge of things. “And he really cares that Blair knows how to do things right,” he said wistfully. “We were at dinner, and he corrected her about which fork she was using. I think it was the first time I’d ever even eaten a meal with two forks!”
Ryan frowned. Her father had corrected her etiquette in front of others? Blair was 21 not 7. He wondered suddenly if she’d used the wrong fork because Will was. That was something she would do — something he would do, for that matter. “Was this at home?”
“No, we were out at a restaurant,” Will said absently. His mind had moved on to something else. Ryan was appalled, but he didn’t say it. Will obviously liked the man, but he sounded like an overbearing asshole to him.
“Will, what do you envision Blair doing if she moves with you to this hypothetical reporting job in Spokane or elsewhere?” Ryan asked.
He frowned. “I’m sure she can find a job anywhere,” he said. “She really is good with people.”
“You want one of the smartest women on campus to... ‘find a job?’ As what? The school secretary?” Ryan asked incredulously. “Blair is much talked about in the Honors College, Will. She’s a bright and shining star. The profs there think she’ll be a fine professor someday. And they don’t think that often — especially about a woman.”
“You think she’s smarter than me too,” Will said.
“Will, I know she’s smarter than you — and me too,” Ryan responded. “Blair and Teresa both. I fully expect Teresa to be a big name in bilingual education. She wanted to finish her undergrad here — it’s why I’m doing my master’s at Reed rather than going directly into a PhD program somewhere else. And then we’ll decide together where we want to do PhDs. We’re partners. I wouldn’t dream of expecting her to follow me somewhere that would require her putting her own education on hold! She’s the real scholar between us.”
“You may joke about Teresa being the boss of you, but I don’t want that,” Will said. “I want a marriage like Blair’s parents. Her mother had a career, but it was second to his. She made a home for them, raised the family, made the social contacts he needed.”
Ryan considered him for a moment. “Is that what Blair wants?” he said quietly. “I’m no one to be giving relationship advice. Hook-up advice? Maybe. But relationships?” he shook his head. “But I do know this, you have to talk to your partner. And you have to make decisions together about what works for you both.”
Will just shrugged. “We’ll talk,” he said. “But I know what I want, Ryan. I want to be a reporter. A good one.”
“And win a Pulitzer someday,” Ryan finished with a laugh. That was how Will had described himself when he was forced to become EIC. But he’d done a good job in spite of not wanting the job, and quite frankly not being cut out to manage people. One of the big reasons for his success was Blair Williams as his news editor, however. Ryan was beginning to wonder if Will actually understood that.
Or worse, realized it and resented it?
How much of this was the irritability of a traumatic brain injury and how much did he really feel, but only blurted out now because his barriers were down?
“What is it you want to do so badly that you’re harming your health trying to leave anyway?” Ryan asked, changing the subject.
“I need to go into the office and make sure we get tonight’s broadcast right!” Will said, and he was agitated again. “They wimped out and didn’t cover the conflict.”
“They covered the conference,” Ryan said. “They covered the protest. And they covered the parade down Broadway. Have you considered that your staff covered it right, and the others got it wrong?”
“Sure, all the stations but us got it wrong?”
“Whose story do we tell,” Ryan murmured. “Which reminds me,” he said, changing the subject again, “I’m adding more people to our panel tomorrow. Turk, Corey and Blair will be on it too.”
“Blair? Why her?”
Ryan stood up. He had had it, and if he didn’t leave now, he was going to punch out a man in a hospital bed. “Because she was the one who brought up the whole approach? And made the assignments to people who represented different points of view? And, oh, edited the copy?”
Will looked stubborn and sullen. “I’m the EIC, Ryan,” he said. “I represent EWN.”
“And that’s why you’re on the panel,” Ryan agreed. “But others played a big role in that package. And they have interesting perspectives to offer. That’s what this whole conference is about. So, relax. Get well. Your staff is doing fine. Let the doctor look at your MRI before you try to leave. And then have them give me a call, and I’ll come get you. OK?”
Will nodded. But Ryan wondered if he could trust him. He stopped at the nurse’s station and told the nurse he’d done what he could. “Are all concussed patients this difficult?”
“Traumatic brain injury often changes a person’s personality,” she said slowly. “In cases of a slight concussion they’re usually just irritable. We need that MRI to see just how bad the injury to his brain really is. But, he’ll be better when he feels better.”
“I hope so,” Ryan murmured, as he left. He headed home back to his own children. He wanted to think about that conversation.
And about Blair Williams. People — including him — joked about her camouflage that hid a cutthroat reporter and a superb brain behind the persona of a perky cheerleader. But now, he wondered exactly how she’d come to develop that. He chewed on his cheek as he drove around the rim back to Vista Avenue and his home. His ability to be a chameleon was the result of horrific child abuse. What pressures had been put upon her? And by whom?
He parked the car in the garage and went downstairs. Rafael greeted him with a hug. Joe was sitting in the overstuffed chair with Ruby, giving her a bottle. Ryan grinned. “Ought to take your picture,” he teased. “Talk about a chick magnet.”
Joe smiled. “I got the woman I want,” he said, then he laughed. “But I would like to see a picture!”
Ryan took one, and then noted he had some missed calls from Tabitha while he was inside OHSU. He went into the bedroom to return the call.
“Just wanted to let you know, everything is going smoothly,” Tabitha said. “No protesters. There was no mention of us on Larson Jones this morning. I specifically listened to see what he had to say. Nothing. We’ve got nearly 3,000 K-12 teachers here, and everyone seems happily engaged. I was prepared for the kind of protests we had yesterday. But nope. Hopefully they won’t show up until after 3 p.m. when the teachers are done.”
“Interesting,” Ryan said. “Any idea why?”
“Kimberle has a theory, but you should ask her about it tonight,” Tabitha said. He could hear the amusement in her voice. “At 9 p.m. right?”
“That’s right,” he agreed. “I’m looking forward to meeting your husband.”
“Good, because he’s dreading it,” Tabitha said. “Doesn’t matter. He’s going. And he knows it.”
Ryan laughed.
He went out and took his daughter back from Joe; he just enjoyed holding her for a while. Then he put her down to sleep and checked his list for tonight’s reception. He didn’t see anything that needed doing there. Good enough. He found his reading list for the history class he was taking for his master’s at Reed and settled in.
Rafael let him know when it was lunch time, and he fixed mac and cheese. Ruby woke up, so she was in her swing while he and Rafael ate. He fed Ruby, then she went back to sleep. Rafael found a book for Ryan to read, and then he settled in for his nap as well.
And Ryan went back to his reading list for the history class at Reed. He lived for days like this.
His phone rang, and Ryan glanced at the caller ID. Ramirez. He sighed and answered. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got a patrol going by EWN regularly — you’ve got a plastic tarp for a door right now. But since we seem to be without protesters, it’s not as bad as I feared.”
“I’ll follow up on that,” he promised. “Thank you for the patrol.”
“Ryan? What triage plans are they talking about?” Ramirez asked. Ryan could tell he was troubled by it.
Ryan told him how Will and Corey had decided after the so-called fire drill that the leadership needed to do something similar. They’d asked him to run them through it. “We used a SCOT approach: strengths, challenges, opportunities, threats. They identified several scenarios that they should be concerned about based on the events of the last two years. And then they came up with strategies to deal with them. Why? It sounds like it bothers you.”
“Bothers me? Hell yes, it does. Blair pointed out that at 21 I had been in Iraq. But I signed up so that our kids didn’t have to do triage scenarios on what to do if their building has intruders!”
Ryan listened and heard the protector, not just the rage. He got that. He did. But still?
“Chief, these kids were still in diapers when 9/11 happened. I was in kindergarten. We can’t remember not being at war. All of our lives have been lived against a backdrop of increasing militarization, not only abroad, but at home. Just look at photos of police now and police three decades ago — they’re appalling! But it’s more than that. These students grew up on shooter drills — what to do in case of a school shooter. Their kid brothers and sisters have bullet-resistant backpacks designed for first graders. Think about that! Our world is different than the one you grew up in — no matter how rough a neighborhood that might have been.” And Ryan suspected it had been a rough one. Something about how he carried himself. About how he related to Cage and Ben — both of whom also grew up in tough neighborhoods themselves.
“And then, add in the last two years? We’ve learned we can’t depend on there being anyone there to protect us. To protect our building. We know you will. Really, we do. But you are one man. And that’s not enough, and you know it,” Ryan said, and he was starting to get heated about it.
“Cage said it was more than equipment,” Ryan said, slowing down the pace of his words. Ramirez wasn’t their enemy. He needed to remember that. “It’s about the right to speak, to broadcast, to print. They want to defend that right. And that means protecting that building and it’s very expensive equipment.”
“They are risking their lives,” Ramirez said. “Tell me truthfully, Ryan, how much of this is your thinking and how much is theirs?”
Ryan started to get indignant, and then reconsidered. “Truthfully? It’s theirs. I helped facilitate the discussion, but only after I was approached. Do you think I like this? That I like knowing that a bunch of student journalists put their lives on the line to stay on the air? Hell, Chief, I hate it. But you know what? Every station in town has guards at the door. Remember the bombs that were mailed to the Obamas and Clintons a few years back? Remember who else got them? Media people. Have you seen the Trump supporters and their chants? They have T-shirts that say Journalist. Rope. And let’s never forget the staff of the Annapolis newspaper. All media people are in danger every day when they go to work. And EWN is no different. We had bombs in the newsroom. And it was campus security officers who put them there.”
Ramirez sighed. Ryan knew he’d been cleaning house of those officers ever since — it was why he’d been hired. “I don’t want to know what other situations they came up with, do I,” Ramirez said now.
“No,” Ryan told him. “You don’t. I came home and vomited. And wished I still drank.”
Teresa came in a bit later and kissed him hello. “Those sessions are wonderful!” she exclaimed. And then she headed into the children’s room. Ryan smiled. He really did expect Teresa would be the better scholar of the two of them. She would change bilingual education someday. Lord knew someone should.
He found a quiet place in their bedroom to log into Zoom. He glanced at the clock. Oops he was 10 minutes late. “Ryan!” Corey said, when he logged in. “You need to get down here now!”
“Why?” he asked startled, but he was already looking for his sneakers and a jacket. “What’s going on?”
“Will showed up. He started yelling at Blair in front of everyone about how he was the editor, not her. She didn’t get to make those kinds of calls like last night, he did. He called her a bitch. She walked off — upstairs to the Crow’s Nest. Ben came out and shouted at him, and Will swung at him. So now, Will is locked in his office.”
“Locked in how?”
“Miguel and Ben shoved one of the sofas up against the door,” Corey said, trying not to laugh. “But damn, Ryan, he just tried to break the glass with a stapler!”
“On my way,” Ryan said. He put down the phone and headed for his car, then started driving toward EWN. What the fuck? And couldn’t Will pick a different day to have a meltdown? Ryan had three university presidents, Dr. Crenshaw, and 40 other people coming for a reception tonight!
It was his first. His grandparents had been famous for their parties here. A party at Bill Matthews’ place could raise millions for a charity, result in deals that made millionaires, or just provide high-class entertainment for the powerful and wealthy in Portland.
Or sick-class entertainment featuring Ryan as a sex object for the pedophiles. There was that, he thought sourly. He shook his head. That was old history now. He hadn’t even had a nightmare in a week. Not since a mysterious fire had killed the remaining members of that little club. A fire he hadn’t had anything to do with.
Really, he hadn’t.
So, he was starting a new era of Matthews philanthropy. Maybe he should have started smaller? Just one university president? But the vice president of University Advancement kept adding to the invite list. Everyone did, actually, Ryan thought with amusement. It would either be a resounding success or an unmitigated disaster.
Ryan pulled up in front of EWN. Speaking of disasters, what was he supposed to do about this one?
He studied the plastic sheeting that covered the door. “I know,” Becca said from the advertising office. “They said they’d be back to put in a temporary door today, but I’m thinking they may have been optimistic. Chief Ramirez has an officer walking by regularly. You here about all the shouting upstairs?”
He smiled at her. She was sharp, organized, and low-key. He appreciated all those things in an advertising manager. Apparently, Corey Washington did too, which made him laugh. Rumor had it he was still afraid to take her home to the Loft, however.
EWN made a lot of money through her and her reps. She was following in the footsteps of a series of ad managers who had done well by EWN.
“Yeah, I got an SOS,” he said with a shrug.
She laughed and waved him on. He went up the stairs as if it was no big deal.
Bianca was standing at the top of the stairs. “Corey said you were on your way,” she said. “I hope you brought a straight-jacket. I hope this is the concussion? Because he’s out of control.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he assured her. Act as if. “See if you can take care of Blair?”
Bianca laughed. “She went up to the Crow’s Nest, logged into the Zoom meeting on her phone, and ran the rest of the meeting as if nothing had happened. Everyone else took their cues from her. She may dress like a cheerleader, but she’s got a spine of steel.”
“Good,” he said. He thought it through. Could he take Will back to OHSU? Not against his will, unless he was a danger to himself. Or others? Did this count?
If he didn’t have the reception, he’d take him home with him. Could he get him to go to his home? Then what about Blair? He thought about it, and then he called Kevin Tighe.
He explained the problem. “Suggestions? Starting with can I dump him on you tonight?”
“You’ve got an EIC with a TBI? And you want to bring him to the Loft?” Kevin demanded. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Ah, hell, Kevin,” Ryan said. He’d lived at the Loft before Teresa and Rafael had come back into his life. “He won’t even be the only person there with a TBI.”
Kevin laughed at that. “Can you bring him? Or do you want me to send Pete after him?”
Ryan looked at the time. “Let me see if I can convince him to go with me. If not, Cage and Ben have got to be around here somewhere.”
“All right,” Kevin said. “I’ll find a room for him.”
Bianca nodded her approval. “That works. But Ryan? It was Ben who organized last night’s newscast, not Blair. Blair ran the editors’ meeting. Then we had the protesters and Miguel. She went to cover the speech, and Ben put the broadcast together. What’s his problem with it anyway?”
“No clue,” Ryan said honestly. “And I don’t care. It was a good show. A bit unconventional in its priorities, but so? And nothing excuses yelling obscenities at your news editor in the middle of an editorial meeting.”
Not that it was the first time it had happened. There had been some wild battles in editorial meetings in the past. Remembering those, Ryan settled down a bit. At least Will hadn’t broke a chair over a desk yet. He had been in the newsroom the night an editor did that. “I am tired of all this shitty copy,” he said. And he picked up a wooden chair and smashed it. He was built like a fullback — still, Ryan had been in awe that he could smash a chair so easily. But no one blamed the editor for getting tired of shitty copy.
Will, however, was infamous for being a likable, geeky guy. He was... sweet, actually. Usually. At least outwardly. Ryan thought of the jealousy he’d heard this morning and frowned.
Bianca nodded. “We’ll take care of EWN. I’ll take care of Blair. If you can get Will to the Loft? Then go home and make us proud at that reception tonight.”
“Will do,” he said, smiling at her. She’d make a fine EIC herself one of these days if she wanted it. A year ago, he would have said she had no interest in such a thing, but she’d changed a lot since then. Who knew?
Ryan settled his shoulders, took a deep breath and strode into the newsroom. The counter was back in its normal place, he noted absently. Ben and Miguel looked in his direction. Ben nodded and disappeared back to his office in the television studio.
“He’s being a pinche pendejo,” Miguel muttered. Ryan raised his eyebrow at him. Miguel didn’t use much Spanish around the office. Apparently, calling the EIC a fucking bastard in Spanish instead of English seemed more acceptable to him?
Ryan walked over and stood in front of the glassed office that was home to the EIC. It had been his once. Now he had the smaller one in the center. He had hated the glass walls, still did for that matter. But at least he could see what was going on with Will for a moment before Will saw him standing there.
Will pounded on the glass door. Reading lips, Ryan guessed he was shouting some version of ‘let me out of here’. Ryan looked around the newsroom. It was beginning to fill up as people prepared for the newscast and filed all the copy for the website. “Could you all take a break and give Will and I some privacy?” he asked.
Miguel nodded and gestured to others, who followed him out and up the stairs. Going to the Crow’s Nest, Ryan assumed. Corey stayed in the Geek Cave, the third glassed office in the opposite corner. Bianca had disappeared into the studio offices. Ryan nodded, and turned back to the EIC office. He pushed the couch out of the way, opened the door, and slipped inside.
Will swung at him.
“What the hell, Will?” he asked. He stopped Will’s fist easily and put him in a come along hold. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried about you! Doc says you shouldn’t be out in bad weather, you should be home in bed. And you show up here? Picking fights?”
“Blair thinks she can do my job better than I can,” Will said. “But, last night’s show was a fucking disaster.”
Ryan frowned. “We’ve had this conversation already today, remember?”
Will looked puzzled as if he had forgotten their earlier conversation. Well, that would be troubling.
“Will?” Ryan asked slowly. “You do remember talking to me this morning?”
“I remember,” Will said sourly. Ryan wasn’t sure he believed him. “I just disagree. It was a shitty show.”
One, it was a good show,” Ryan responded. “Two, Blair didn’t run the show, Ben did, because Blair was covering the speech. And three? Even if you disagree with last night’s show, this isn’t the way you deal with it! Your staff deserves better than this.”
He looked at Will’s eyes. They were still unevenly dilated and they didn’t really seem to be tracking. He frowned. “Did you take more of those meds?”
“Head hurts,” he muttered.
“OK, listen up,” Ryan said. “You have a choice. You can go back to OHSU until your head stops hurting. Or you can go to the Loft and spend the night where there are people who can watch you. I already cleared it with Kevin Tighe.”
“Or you can butt out and leave me alone so I can do my job so we don’t have another disaster of a broadcast,” Will countered.
Ryan frowned. “Why do you think last night’s show was a disaster?” he asked puzzled.
“Did you watch it? Did you see what the other stations ran? We missed the story!” he shouted.
“Or maybe they did?” Ryan asked. “Isn’t that what this whole conference is about? Whose story do we tell?”
Will squinted as if that was more than he could handle. “I’m the EIC,” he repeated stubbornly. “So, get out and let me do my fucking job.”
Well, that raised an interesting question, Ryan thought. Did he have the right to make him stand down? Would the staff work with him? He actually thought the charter would probably support Will’s position.
“It’s OK, Ryan,” Blair said from behind him. “Hey Will, it’s an easy night — no protesters today. The big event is a bunch of law professors. What do you say we call it an early night? We can go home, I’ll make dinner, and we can just relax. You’ve had a rough time.”
Ryan started to protest and then stopped.
Will looked at her. “My head hurts,” he repeated.
“See? You need supper. What did you do? Walk down from OHSU?” She came into the editor’s office and hugged Will. He wrapped his arms around her.
“Called Lyft,” he said. “Are you sure no one needs us?”
“All taken care of,” Blair said, reassuringly. “Come on, let’s get out of here before someone thinks of something!”
Will laughed, and the normalcy of that comment seemed to right him a bit. “Sounds good to me,” he said. He looked at her. “I love you.”
She grinned at him. “I know you do,” she said, and giggled. “I love you too,” she said.
She walked him out of the office and down the stairs. Ryan followed them stopping at the top of the stairs and giving them space. “We don’t have a door?” Will asked.
“Tomorrow,” Blair said.
Ryan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He felt someone standing next to him and glanced behind. Ben.
“Does that worry you?” Ben asked softly. “That worries me.”
“Yeah, it feels off,” Ryan said honestly. “Both Will’s meltdown, and then how Blair just handled it. That was almost creepy.”
“She told Bianca once that male anger scares her to death, and that was one of the things she loved about Will was that he didn’t really get angry,” Ben said. “That ship just sailed.”
Ryan nodded. Scary male anger? Blair, what did you grow up with?
“I’ll ask Bianca to check up with her after the show tonight. They’ve developed a taste for coffee nudges, especially after the show,” Ben said with a laugh. “Kahlua, crème d cacao, Amaretto. They’ve been experimenting with them all.”
“More likely to get a sugar high than drunk,” Ryan commented as he headed down the stairs.
“Not when you add vodka,” Ben said, and he turned back to the newsroom to get the newscast out.
Ryan laughed, and sent a text to Kevin Tighe that his place wasn’t needed. Then he switched his focus to the reception. But sometime soon he was going to have a heart-to-heart talk with Blair Williams about a lot of things. Starting with, did she want to be editor-in-chief next year, a year that actually started in two months with spring term? And then maybe getting her to talk about her own past might be in order.