Family Secrets

“Look,” she bargained, “I went to the planning-commission meeting last night. I got a good story.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“And I introduced myself around, told all the commissioners I’d be covering city stuff.”

“That doesn’t matter any longer,” he said. “You’re still fired—or maybe I should say laid off.”

“I couldn’t care less what you call it, Bruce. I mean... Don’t you at least want me to write up the meeting?”

“I’ll have someone else do that. You can pick up your final check at the front desk on your way out.” He looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m really sorry, Sharlee, but we’re...we’re cutting back and you’re the junior reporter in news. It’s just the breaks, kid.”

She had to be missing something. She racked her brain for an explanation. There had never been any complaints about her work, so what could it be?

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll take my old job back as lifestyles editor.”

Her editor shook his head. “Sorry, no can do. You’re news now and that’s where I’ve got to cut.”

“Bruce!” She stared at him in frustration—and then the light dawned. Putting her fists on his desk, she leaned over to stare him in the eye. “Did you happen to speak to any of my relatives in the past twenty-four hours?” she demanded, her voice rising.

A wash of red swept up his neck and mottled his face. “Absolutely not.”

She knew bluster when she saw it. “You’re lying. How dare you do such an underhanded thing! Was it my grandmother who told you to fire me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He did, the lying SOB. “What did she promise you?” Sharlee pushed. “Cash? A job at WDIX?” She straightened, some of the shock dissipating while cruel reality began to sink in. “I hope you didn’t sell yourself too cheap. This kind of deal doesn’t come along every day.”

He looked down at the desktop and his shoulders hunched. “Sharlee—Charlotte, it’s not what you think...exactly. I...that is, when you—”

“Give it up, Bruce.” Wearily she straightened. “I understand exactly what happened, and you know what?” She crossed to the door and opened it wide so that all those eager listeners in the newsroom could hear without straining.

“You can’t fire me. I quit!”

Walking out, she gave in to her baser instincts and slammed the door so hard it rattled. Glaring around at the stunned expressions of her former coworkers, she squared her shoulders, prepared to stare them down.

Eric broke the impasse. “Tough break, Sharlee.”

Then they all swung into action: “Yeah, tough break. A shame... Unfair.”

Fair rarely had anything to do with life, she’d long since discovered. Sharlee drew a deep breath and walked to her desk. “He just caught me by surprise, that’s all. I was going to quit, anyway.”

They didn’t believe her, but they all nodded understandingly. Eric said, “If there’s anything I—” he glanced around “—anything we can do...”

She couldn’t force a smile. “Thanks, but I can’t think of a thing. Unless you know of any job openings?” She saw their helpless expressions. “I didn’t think so.”

Pulling open desk drawers, she began hauling out the personal items she’d accumulated over the past eleven months, trying not to think about her situation, about the underhandedness of her grandmother, about a future that no longer looked promising.

And especially, she tried not to think about where she was going to find another job.

RUNNING ON ADRENALINE, she made it all the way to her car before it really hit her.

She’d just been fired.

She’d never been fired before and it was horrible. She felt like dirt.

What was she going to do now? With trembling hands, she thrust the key into the ignition and gave it a quick turn. The engine came to life slowly. It coughed a couple of times but, all in all, behaved remarkably well.

Driving through a sparkling clear August day, Sharlee headed for her apartment—not home. It had never felt like home and she’d never made the slightest effort to make it homey. She’d never intended to be there for the long term. She’d planned to use the Courier as a springboard to something better, but after this it was probably a springboard to oblivion.

She stopped for a red light, the car idling like a lawn mower. Maybe she could still find some good in this. It would at least push her into doing something. She’d make a few phone calls, check the Internet, see what was out there—

A blast from a car horn woke her up and she made a hasty left-hand turn into her street. At least she still had transportation. If she had to go out of town for job interviews—

The engine sputtered and died.

Just like that, she found herself coasting down the street in eerie silence. Guiding the vehicle to the curb, she took a deep breath intended to forestall the cloud of gloom settling around her head.

She turned the key in the ignition. The engine growled. She tried again. The growl was shorter and fainter.

The third time, nothing happened. No growl, none.

“I’m doomed!” She said it out loud, leaning forward over the steering wheel with her eyes squeezed shut.

Then she straightened, flung open the door, climbed out and hiked the five blocks to her apartment, swearing under her breath with every step.

DEV WAITED IN THE ENTRY to her apartment building. Why was she not surprised?

“You!” Marching up to him, she whapped him good on the arm with her leather shoulder bag.

“Hey!” He rubbed his arm. “What’s your problem?”

“I hate you—oops, that’s not a problem, actually. It’s a fact.”

“But—”

“Devin Oliver, I could kill you for what you’ve done to me this time!”

A bulky form hurtled the last ten or so steps down the stairs to the right of the entryway. “Hey, what’s going on? Is this guy bothering you, Sharlee?”

Brawny Bill Bolliver to the rescue, clad in a net tank top and biker shorts, muscles bulging in every direction.

“He certainly is bothering me,” she said angrily.

“Want me to hurt ’im?” Bill pounded one big fist into the other palm. Turning, he did a double take. “Howdy, Dev. What’s up?”

“She’s mad at me,” Dev said. “I don’t know why.”

“Liar.”