Her face lit up with laughter. “Yeah.”
A waitress cleared our cups away and spoiled the moment. “Anything I tell Andy about you will get published in my name. He’s probably not above stealing credit, but you’d most likely be messing with my career.”
“Crap. I’d really love to get him good.”
Knowing what drove the tabloids as well as I did gave me some insight on what might actually entice Andy, and I couldn’t help share with Eden. “There is one thing we could do. Is there a jewelry store nearby?”
* * *
Andy ambushed me the second I came into the office. “Well?”
“She said it was off the record.” Not that Andy would care. He wouldn’t print it, but he could mine information for gold for future research. And nothing would get him more interested than starting off by telling him he couldn’t print whatever I knew.
“What did she say was off the record? Did they get married or not?”
“She says, ‘Not.’”
He pouted like a little kid. “Did you at least get any pictures of her ring?”
“That I did.” My conscience stirred slightly. I’d told Eden this could cost me my job if Andy found out I was lying to him, and she said that would put us into a state of détente. We both knew a secret about each other.
Andy reached for my camera without waiting for me to offer it. He rolled through the pictures Eden had posed for outside. We’d gone into a boutique that sold cheap jewelry and bought a ten-dollar silver band that she’d worn with her engagement ring, flashing her hands about while I took pictures. Andy zoomed in on every picture and finally got one that came out clearer than the rest.
“Is her engagement ring a double band?” He kept flipping through pictures. Then he started looking through older pictures trying to compare. It was impressive but scary to watch him work. “Here. There’s only one band.” He zoomed in on a picture from weeks earlier.
He narrowed his eyes and went over the pictures. “Something doesn’t seem right about this. Eden doesn’t ever pose for pictures.”
I held my breath.
He stood for a minute in thought. “And she told you she’s not married? Then why would they go around wearing wedding bands in the open?” He straightened his tie and ran a hand through his hair. As he walked to his office, he muttered, “I wouldn’t put it past Eden to pull another stunt.”
So much for operationFuck with Andy. At least he hadn’t suspected my involvement in the prank. No harm, no foul.
When he came out of his office, I made the mistake of asking him if I’d fulfilled my end of the bargain. He scowled. “Do I have a story I can print?”
He hadn’t answered my question. After I hadn’t moved, he finally said, “Are you waiting for an invitation?”
But I had to play the cards I had. “Andy, didn’t I bring you the picture of Eden’s ring?”
“Yeeeeah.” He tapped his finger on the table. “About that. I’m pretty sure she’s using you to get to me. You’d know that if you made it your mission to take candid shots instead of the ones they pose for. But she’s up to something, and I want to know what it is. I’ve asked Derek to keep an eye on her.”
He sent Derek to stalk her. My throat constricted, and I had to fight stupid unintended emotions. If I choked up now, Andy might suspect I was hiding something. And he’d be right. “What’s he going to do?”
“The fact that you have to ask that speaks volumes.” He leaned against my desk. “Go to the airport, and bring me something good. If you can show me you’ve finally discovered your edge, we’ll revisit the whole situation. If not, well then we’ll have a different discussion next week.”
I grabbed my backpack to head out of the office, but before I’d made it to the door, Andy added, “And Jo, if I see you in the paper with Micah again, I hope it will be because you’ve found me a story I can run.” He tilted his head toward me with an ominous expression. “You need to understand that nobody who works for me would fail to take advantage of that situation.”
I bolted with a growing pain in my stomach. As much as I hated Andy, I couldn’t lose this job, or I’d lose my health insurance. And then I might as well just move back to Georgia and live with my mom. But there were other departments at this paper, so on my way downstairs, I stopped in the Arts and Leisure department and asked the rail-thin Audrey Hepburn look-alike if I could see the managing editor.
She waved her hand toward a desk in the far corner, and I squeezed through the small office.
“Excuse me,” I said to the gray-haired man reading his monitor intently. “Are you Sang Moon-Soo?” The question was rhetorical. How many grizzled Koreans worked in this department?
“Yes?” He looked up, but I waited until his eyes lost their glaze and focused on me.
“Hello. My name is Jo Wilder and—”
“Have a seat.” He indicated a chair at an unoccupied desk. I rolled it over. “What can I do for you?”
