First, I need to get him to move up here. But I already know how I want this to go. I want to keep him forever.
7
SCOTT
Scott smiledas he ended the call with Justin and happily acknowledged that his heartbeat quickened when he heard the other man’s voice. Since they had started making plans for him to move to Fox Hollow, Scott found himself feeling less attached to his life in Albany and restless despite the activities that used to keep him busy.
He felt at home the first time he drove into Fox Hollow, a deep enough sense of rightness that had freaked him out a little bit. Everything just seemed to fit what he hoped to find. Meeting Justin was the second strike of lightning. They hit it off from the very start. The relationship blossomed faster than Scott ever expected.
It’s all coming together. I’ve got a list of editors who want regular assignments. That will be enough to tide me over while I move. Then I can work up a bigger list once I’m settled in. But first, I have to tackle this story. The articles won’t research and write themselves.
His phone rang with the tone he had assigned to his editors for projects. The display read: “Dr. Rick Foster.”
“Scott, do you have a moment?”
Despite his to-do list, Scott knew there was only really one answer. “Sure, but I do have a meeting at ten. What’s up?”
Dr. Foster was a senior professor of environmental business studies with the University at Albany, a department that looked for ways companies and environmental concerns could coexist and thrive. The department published a website and an academic magazine. They had connections to similar publications at sister schools, which led to commissioning several articles for Scott to write. The work paid well enough, and the credits looked good on Scott’s resume.
“This doesn’t really change anything.” Foster sounded defeated. “I just want you to know that. There will be future articles to keep up the fight.”
“Okay.” Scott was completely lost. “What doesn’t change anything?”
“The University had some visitors from the New York Mine and Industrial Association in the last couple of days,” Foster replied. “Someone stopped in at the President’s office to remind them of a grant pledge, and someone else had a chat with the Dean of my department, not-so-off-handedly, reminding them about the scholarships, internships, and hiring that the association’s members do with the university.”
Scott’s heart sank, guessing where the conversation was going. “What does that mean for the mine article assignments?” He crossed his fingers as he hoped for a good response.
“As of right now, nothing,” Foster told him. “No one put any pressure on me to cancel them, and I’m not going to make any changes unless I’m flat out told I have to. But they did make clear that sensationalized or negative articles about their economic development would not be taken well.”
“Do you think the association will cause problems?” Scott worried aloud.
“I think their sort never likes anything that might question their decisions or point out potential downsides for people who aren’t their investors,” Foster said with a trace of bitterness. “I’m all for seeing business thrive in Upstate New York. I just would like us to keep our forests, waterways, and air while we’re at it. As we talked about before, and as much as it pains me to say it, we’ll just have to make sure we’re emphasizing the positives.”
“Is there anything else I need to know or do differently?” Scott relaxed a bit now that it seemed his assignments were safe, at least for the moment. He’d already agreed to keep the articles positive.
“You always present the evidence for your positions, and you don’t try to stir up trouble. But lean into the opportunities and benefits, and I think we’ll be okay, both with the college brass and with the companies. I just thought you should know,” Foster replied.
“Thanks,” Scott said. “I’ll keep it in mind. I appreciate the heads up.”
He stared at the phone for a minute when the call ended, his thoughts racing, filing away what had been said and implied and how it might impact his articles about the mine, reconciling it with his previous conversations. Scott was discouraged that he was being held back, but given his research, he’d already decided it wasn’t worth the risk. He had a mate to focus on and would keep to his original plan and avoid any mention of the Mob and monsters.
If we can’t eat it, piss on it and walk away,his coyote advised.
Easy for you to say—I pay the bills,Scott countered, determined he’d still produce a good article series.
If we had to, we could make a nice den and hunt. We’d be okay,his other half reassured.And our mate would take care of us.
Scott knew his animal side meant well, but he preferred to keep that as an emergency resort.I don’t think it will come to that, but thanks.His coyote grumbled and curled up in the back of his mind with his nose buried in his fluffy tail.
Scott’s alarm reminded him it was time to leave for his meeting with Mike, the photographer. They had traded emails, but they hadn’t met in person yet. Scott hoped they liked each other, because they were going to be spending most of at least one full day together in the cramped confines of a small plane.
Bright Badger Café smelled like hot coffee and freshly baked croissants when Scott walked in. The badger-themed coffee house had been an instant hit in the neighborhood, given its quirky décor and top-notch coffee and baked goods.
A man with red hair and a beard stood up as Scott approached the table. “Scott?”
He nodded. “I’m guessing you’re Mike. Any trouble finding this place?” Scott asked.
“No, it was easy. And now that I’ve tried their coffee, I’ll be making up excuses to come over this way a lot more often,” Mike replied.
