No small talk. No manners.“I’ll make time when I get back from my interview. Plan on fouro’clock.”
As if hypnotized, Stacy stared at the monitor. “Hey, that’s Tex. He’ssuperhot. I let him know I’mavailable. What are you doing withhim?”
Falling inlove.
The production editor glared at her. “Quiet!”
Stacy turned on her heels. “I don’t have time for this. See you at four,Al.”
Alexandra cringed at the hideousnickname.
“I don’t envy you,” said the editor. “She’s got the intelligence of a bobblehead.”
Later that afternoon,Alexandrareturned from interviewing the residents of Happy Day Retirement Village who were preparing for a 5K race. She had barely stowed her handbag beneath her desk when Stacy bombardedher.
“Let’s get this mentor shit over with. I’ve got to get to happyhour.”
“Why don’t we start with your copy?” Alexandra asked, fighting the urge to roll hereyes.
Stacy plunked down several pieces of paper, then plopped into her desk chair and rolled next to her. After reading the first few copy sheets and leafing through the rest, Alexandra had her answer. Stacy Blunk couldn’t write a basic news story. She didn’t even cover the basic who, what, where, when and why. While her spelling was atrocious, that was nothing compared to the elementary way in which she approached aninterview.
Max would risk the integrity of the news station and the reputation of the other excellent and qualified journalists on staff because he couldn’t control his raginglibido.
After Alexandra rewrote one of the stories, she slid her tablet around so Stacy could readit.
“Wait? What?You’re done? That took you three minutes. How’d you do that? Never mind. I’ll bring you what I’ve got every day. Those dumb neighborhood stories can’t possibly keep you that busy. Plus, you’d be helping boost my popularity, which is your job as mymentor.”
Over the years, Alexandra had mentored a number of fresh-faced journalists right out of college. It was something she loved doing. But Stacy had no interest in learning. Twenty minutes later, Alexandra wondered why she’d bothered to explain the basic structure of a news story. Stacy hadn’t taken notes, but she’d checked her phoneplenty.
“That was a handy lesson, the who-what-where-when-why. Did you make thatup?”
Alexandra laughed. Stacy had a sense of humor, afterall.
“What’s sofunny?”
No effin’ way.“What did you study inschool?”
“Boys, partying, like everyoneelse.”
“Where did you cut yourteeth?”
Stacy’s lips twisted. “Myteeth?”
“Where did you work before you came here? Which market? Or are you fromprint?”
Stacy’s cheeks turned the color of her hair. “I worked in a men’s clothingstore.”
“Nice.” Alexandra tried to suffocate hersarcasm.
Puffing out her chest, Stacy said, “I was the number one rep three months in arow.”
“Is that how you metMax?”
“He was my best customer! He bought an entire wardrobe while I worked there. My commissions were through theroof.”
Max Buchard is such apig.
“If we’re finished, Max wants to see you.” Stacy spun around at her desk and startedtexting.
