“Great,” Kenzie had muttered. She took a buyout package in the semiregular round of layoffs that had come the next month, and Nadine continued to hide how much the constant barrage of insults bothered her. Frank didn’t have much patience for feelings at work, and she’d learned early there were enough people looking for a gap in her armor that she needed to appear impervious.
However, the one thing Nadine never received—and one of two things she and Kenzie hadn’t the stomach to put on the bingo card—was a death threat from a man who subsequently knocked on her door. She’d recognized him instantly from the online search she’d done after receiving the email.
Nadine had done everything by the book. Took photos of him lingering outside her apartment and a blurrier one of him in her hall through her peephole that she forwarded to her manager and HR. Waited for them to agree that, boy howdy, it sure didn’t look great. They’d contacted the man, who admitted everything and insisted the email was a joke and he was only visiting a friend who lived in Nadine’s building. They’d extracted a promise not to contact Nadine again and told her the problem was solved. Nadine heard it had been presented at a conference as a textbook method of dealing with such issues.
They hadn’t even canceled his subscription, for God’s sake, telling her there was no point as he’d probably get a new one under another name.
And fair enough, the man had left Nadine alone after that. It didn’t stop her from having nightmares about opening that message or having to grip her keys between her fingers every time she left the elevator. Her apartment, which had once been so cozy, shifted between feeling like a prison, a fortress, and a target. She couldn’t afford to move but added more locks on the door and windows, which she covered with thicker curtains and no longer opened for fresh air.
When she began to censor herself over anything a reader might disagree with, she knew things had to change. The fear impacted her reporting, and that was unacceptable.
“Next,” drawled the barista. His name tag read “Gary.”
They stepped up to the counter and ordered a plain black decaf for Nadine and a monstrosity of whipped cream and flavored raspberry syrup for Lisanne. The barista stared at Lisanne without expression as he rang in the order, the charms on his septum ring jingling merrily.
“Did you see that?” Lisanne whispered as they left. “He almost smiled. I’m sure he gave me extra maple sugar dust.”
There were three grains topping Lisanne’s cup.
“Are you going to tell me your news?” Anything to get Nadine’s mind off replaying the discussion with Daniel.
“It’s huge.” Lisanne glanced behind her like a spy, then led Nadine down an empty side street. “A few weeks ago, I saw a discrepancy in the earnings report of one of the big pharmaceuticals that didn’t make sense. Daniel gave me the go-ahead to look into it.”
Lisanne took a quick sip, so Nadine had time to compose her face to that of a supportive friend. She took an extra second to struggle with, then hide the envy bubbling up inside her. It was good for Lisanne, but Nadine wanted to be breaking stories too.
“That’s amazing,” she said.
“This could make my career,” said Lisanne intently over her whipped cream. “If I’m right, hundreds of thousands of people have been affected.”
Nadine tried to react with enthusiasm, because Lisanne was right to be excited and to expect her to be keen as well. “How are you approaching it?”
Lisanne launched into a discussion of her next steps, which included asking Ying from the data science team for help. “It’s the first time theHeraldwill be working on something with datasets this big,” said Lisanne. “Daniel was so encouraging. He said it’ll be groundbreaking.”
Nadine gave the appropriate responses, her entire body overheating. She never thought she would feel stuck in place—worse, like she’d taken a huge step back—as Lisanne was about to launch herself up to the next level. Nadine wanted that. She deserved that. She’d worked as hard as Lisanne, and she hated that a man had succeeded in silencing her. She hated feeling like a failure and fragile.
Lisanne tossed her cup as they approached the office. “Are you sure you can handle this new job? You look tired, and I hear nights are rough.”
Lisanne meant it out of concern, but Nadine’s id and ego took it as a challenge as her superego told her to chill out. The situation didn’t improve when Lisanne kept talking.
“Hopefully a break from more intense reporting means you can go back to your real work soon.”
She gave a little wave and left Nadine seething at the door. Lisanne was only parroting what Nadine herself had said, but it wasdifferentwhen Nadine said it.
Too riled for her desk, Nadine decided to go to theHerald’s research library for five minutes to recalibrate. It was usually empty apart from Irina, who tended to ignore everyone who came in. Except for today.
“Ah, it’s you.” Irina smoothed down the front of her dress when Nadine appeared in the doorway. “I was disappointed in your Dot Voline obituary.”
There went any hope of peace. Nadine accepted she was cursed before she said, “I bet Dot Voline wasn’t too happy either.”
Irina waved her hand. “Foolishness. We all die, and that’s not the first time an obituary has run early. Daniel did it at theTelegram.”
“Really?” Nadine perked up. It might be poor-spirited to take consolation in the mistakes of others, but she was at rock bottom with few comforts. The universe owed her a brief gloat over Daniel’s fallibility.
“Yes, but his was at least well researched. Yours was not.”
Nadine tried to lower her professional hackles. “I didn’t write it. It was in Tom’s approved files.”
Irina gave her a withering glance. “You are the editor. It is your responsibility.”
