The man staring back at me had a perfectly structured face, beautiful lips, and eyes blue than the bottom of a Caribbean ocean. His smile was all mischief. It said he liked to cause trouble and, most of all, that he enjoyed getting away with it. But there was something very closed off and somehow icy in his eyes. Oh yeah, those blue eyes were made of ice.
“I’ve heard of him,” I admitted, starting to get nervous. “I wouldn’t really be alive in Seattle if I hadn’t.”
Ruthless, they said.
A complete playboy, they said.
And so ambitious he’d put Midas to shame. Oh yeah. They said James wouldn’t rest until he owned the world.
“Cynthia thinks that you’re too young and inexperienced to take on such a risqué project, Vicki. But you’re single, and she’s not.”
“Brenda, you know how much I enjoy writing about trends, but you also know that I really want to write bigger stories, stories about people’s homes, and security. I want to earn that chance, and if this is how I can do that, then I won’t let you down. What kind of story do you see for him?”
“An exposé.” She grinned. “One where we get to hear juicy little tidbits about him. I’m thinking about four things, specifically. How he manages to stay so calm and in control all the time? What’s the deal with his father? What role do all these women play in his life? And why, oh why does he have this obvious affinity for doing things in fours? Now”—she slapped her hand on the desk for emphasis—“in order to get to the meat . . . Let’s be honest, Brenda: you must try to get close. Lie, little white lies. Ease into his world. James isn’t an easy man to access, which is why nobody’s been able to figure out even one of these things, much less all four.”
I had been listening. My curiosity was fully engaged. But I had started to squirm. Lie—little white lies. True, I’ve lied sometimes. I’m human. I’ve done right things and wrong things, but I’d rather stick to the right side. I enjoyed my sleep, thank you. But this was the opportunity I’ve wanted since I started college.
“I believe so,” I said, but I sounded much more confident than I felt. And I just . . . I was not sure how many opportunities like this I’d get. I’ll never be able to move into reporting things that are important to me if I don’t make a more substantial effort to be heard. Tackling a topic that fascinated the public so much would give me a voice, and I really, really wanted that voice.
“Do you think you can do this? Or . . .” She glanced outside.
No. I couldn’t bear for Cynthia to get the story. It was not a pill I wanted to swallow. In fact, it was downright bitter, and I didn’t want to swallow it.
“I’ll do it. I’m hungry. I want a good story,” I assured Brenda.
“We can always wait and find you another good story, Vicki,” she said, playing devil’s advocate now.
“I’ll do it. He’s my story now.”
“He’s Seattle’s story. And Seattle’s darling. He has to be handled with care.”
“He’s the story I want to tell,” I assured her.
“That’s what I like to hear.” She laughed. “Vicki, you are absolutely beautiful. You are a doll. You’re funny and you work hard, and you give it your all, but for all that you’ve lived, you’re still innocent. You’ve been here two years, and even before you graduated you were working it. But you’re still a young girl playing in a world of grown-ups. You’re too young to know there are protocols with the rich in the city.”
“I know we usually cater to the rich.”
“He won’t catch me,” I mumbled.
“Okay, Vicki, but I want intimate revelations. I want every detail. I want to feel like I stepped into his shoes and walked his everyday walk. What is it like to be him? You’re going to tell the whole city.” She smiled happily and woke up her computer with a wiggle of her mouse. “I look forward to hearing all about it. So off you go now, Vicki. Find the story in the story and write it.”
Holy crap. You’ve got your story!
I was so dazed and exhilarated, I was euphoric as I headed to the door, fairly trembling with the need to start working.
“Vicki,” she called as I opened the glass door, my stomach in a whole new tangle. She nodded her head. “I believe in you, Vicki.”
I stood there, completely awed that I finally, finally had her trust. I didn’t expect it would come with a huge fear of failure on my shoulders. “Thanks for the chance, Brenda,” I whispered.
“Oh, and one last thing. James isn’t normally accessible to the press. But there have been exceptions, and I can think of a way you could get lucky. Check out his new social media site, Interface. Use it as an approach. He might not like the press, but he’s a businessman and will use us to his advantage.”
I nodded with some self-confidence and a ton more self-doubt, and as soon as I was outside, I exhaled nervously.
'Okay, Vicki vale. Focus and let’s do this,' I assured myself.
I had gotten so much information on James that I emailed myself dozens and dozens of links to continue researching tonight at my apartment. I called his office and talked to a representative, asking for an interview. She assured me they’ll let me know. I crossed my fingers and said, “Thank you, I’m available anytime. My boss is very excited to run a piece on Mr. James’s latest venture.”
Done for the day, I headed home. My place was close to a Chocolate Company, in the West Seattle District. I woke up to the smell of chocolate in the air. My building was five stories high, on the edge of downtown.
Sometimes it was hard to believe I was living my dream or at least half of it; I wanted the briefcase, the mobile phone, the heels, and the matching jacket and skirt. I wanted to be self-sufficient enough to buy my mother the car of her dreams, and a home of her own where she wouldn’t get evicted because she couldn’t pay the rent. I still wanted those things.
Unfortunately, my market was tough. A freelancer before I even graduated college, I had no steady income. You live by your muse, and she was not always ready with ideas for you. Then I answered an advertisement in the Seattle Tribune. Edge Magazines was looking for weekly columnists for topics such as fashion, sex and dating, innovations, decorating tips, and even fancy pet discoveries. The office covered two floors in an old building downtown, and it hardly represented the corporate environment I’d envisioned.
