Since I Found You Page 11

  “Does this mean—?”

  “They’re done,” Nate says.

  “They shut down?” I still can’t believe this. It’s all happening so quickly.

  “There’s a reason for that,” Mr. Monohan says, and he looks to Aria.

  “Sorry, Alex, but we had an impromptu meeting at Last Call after you left the office last night.” Aria’s smile grows. “We invited some of the Priority News crew to give them a heads-up about what was happening. They spread the word to a few people they had heard rumors about Oliver badgering. When they discovered he really did some despicable things, they all decided to stage a mass walk out.”

  Mr. Monohan crosses his arms and smiles. “That’s where I stepped in. I gave my cousin the heads-up that things were about to go south very quickly. But that wasn’t until I called my buddy Paul Weston.”

  “From The Sentinel?” I ask, even though we all know who Paul Weston is.

  Mr. Monohan nods. “Paul and I decided to buy Priority News from Marjorie Strauss.”

  “What?” Not only did we destroy the paper, but Mr. Monohan bought it?

  “Paul felt For the Record should expand, give the bigger papers a run for their money.” Mr. Monohan scratches his beard. “He also wanted to stick it to Marjorie and Oliver Strauss as much as I did.” He laughs, and his growing stomach shakes. “So we are moving. Priority News currently has the better location and bigger office, and we’re going to need the bigger office considering we’re absorbing some of the former Priority News staff.”

  “What will happen to all of us when we merge?” Emily asks. “Are we getting demoted to staff writers again?”

  Mr. Monohan tugs his pants up. “Not on my watch. The previous Priority News crew was given the option of coming on board to fill non-editorial positions or to seek employment elsewhere. We’ll be gaining some old faces. Omar Webb agreed to going back out in the field as a sports reporter. And Edie Maron decided she’d be perfectly fine writing opinion pieces as opposed to editing them.”

  “So the old crew will be joining the new crew,” Aria says. “But under our rules.”

  “What rules?” I ask.

  “We’re bringing Emily’s open floor plan to the new office. The cubicles are the first things to go. And...” Aria turns to look at Mr. Monohan. “The grandfather clock will remain in Terry’s office instead of resuming its former location on the news floor. David has more important things to do now that he’s an editor than disassemble an annoying clock.” She winks at David.

  “You can’t prove it was me,” David says. “We all hated that ticking time bomb.”

  “Yeah, but only one of us kept a screwdriver in our desk,” Nate says with a laugh.

  Everyone is ecstatic over the news, but all I can think is Whitney and I are to blame for this. Oliver isn’t the type to go away quietly either. One way or another, he’ll make us pay for destroying his reputation, even if he made it so easy for us to do.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Whitney

  Clearing out my desk on my free period is harder than I ever imagined. I knew it was coming last night when I got the email from the principal’s secretary. But when I showed up this morning and there was a substitute parked in my parking spot, my stomach sank to my toes. Principal Perry didn’t try to sugarcoat anything. He explained that my actions reflected poorly on the school and he and the superintendent had no choice but to let me go. He told me if I submitted my letter of resignation, they’d accept it so I didn’t have the termination on my record to follow me to my next job. So, that’s what I did.

  “Hey.” Elana rushes into the art room and wraps her arms around me. “I can’t believe they’re doing this.”

  “Yes, you can. We both knew it was coming.”

  She studies my face. “Why does it seem like you really knew?”

  “Because they emailed me last night.”

  “And you didn’t call me?” she shrieks.

  I walk over and close the door. I don’t want to draw attention to what I’m doing. The school agreed to tell everyone I resigned. I hate that the students will think I abandoned them, but it’s better than them thinking it’s okay to vandalize buildings for the sake of art. “I was stupid to do this in the first place. I forgot that what I do affects my students. What kind of example have I set for them?”

  “Now you sound like Principal Perry,” Elana says, sitting on the edge of my desk.

  That’s because he said the same thing to me not twenty minutes ago. “I’ll be fine. Alex got me a job writing for the paper temporarily. At least I’ll be able to pay my bills until I figure out what to do next.”

  “I can float you some money if you need,” she says.

  I shake my head. I’ve never taken money from a friend. It only ruins relationships. “It’s really fine. I actually got paid for one story already, and Mr. Monohan told me to come back in when I was ready.” I think even he knew I’d show up today.

  The classroom door opens, and a woman in her early twenties walks in. She looks like she’s fresh out of college. She glances at a paper in her hand, no doubt a copy of my schedule.

  “You’re in the right place,” I tell her. I grab my box of things, and Elana follows me out. She walks me to the main office where I turn in my ID.

  “Want me to walk you to your car?” she asks.

  “No. You have a class to get to.” And I want to beat the bell so I don’t run into any of my students. They shouldn’t have to see me carrying the last four years of my teaching career out in one pathetic cardboard box.

  She hugs me and says, “Call me later, okay?”

  I nod and walk out of the school for the last time.

  I drive directly to For the Record. I don’t have time to sulk. Not when there are bills piling up on my counter. There are more cars in the parking lot than usual, but I find a spot in the back and take the elevator up to the fourth floor. I can hear the commotion long before the elevator lets me off. I step into the newsroom to see people partying like it’s New Year’s Eve. My eyes scan the room for Alex, finding him at his desk. He jumps up the second he sees me. He doesn’t ask me what happened, because he knows. I’m sure my face says it all. He wraps his arms around me, and the entire place slowly falls to a hush.

  I pull away from Alex and look around at all the eyes trained on me. I quickly wipe the tears from my cheeks.

  “Come on,” Alex says, pulling me toward what must be the break room. People are in here, too, laughing and drinking coffee. They stop when they see me.

  “Why does it feel like everyone is staring at me?” I whisper to Alex.

  “Hey, guys, could you give us a second, please?” He waves them from the room.

  I wait until they’re all gone and Alex closes the door before I say, “I’m here, ready to start immediately.”

  He hugs me again. “It’s going to be all right.”

  “You don’t know that,” I say. Despite what I told Elana, I’m not okay. I’m not convinced I’m going to be okay in time either. “Alex, I don’t want to be a writer. I want to be an artist. I don’t know who I am without my art.”

  “Hey.” He pulls back and takes my face in his hands. “You are an artist. That’s not going to change.”

  “How? I can’t teach after this. I mean, they let me resign instead of firing me, but you know how news travels. I’m sure other schools will get wind of what really happened.”

  He pulls out a chair at the table. “Sit down. I have an idea.”

  I sit, and he takes the chair next to mine. “Mr. Monohan bought Priority News.”

  “He did? How?” When I left Alex this morning, he hadn’t mentioned this. When did it happen?

  “Apparently we missed a lot last night—not that I’m complaining.”

  I feel my cheeks warm. I’ve never needed anyone the way I needed Alex last night, and he was amazing through it all. He never questioned me, never pressed me. He just let me take what I needed from him.

  “Any
way, the article worked. Oliver went down hard. Other women came forward and pressed charges against him for similar behavior to what he exhibited at your house. Mr. Monohan swooped in and bought the paper, along with the owner of The Sentinel.”

  I’m still not sure why this is so great. Oliver deserved what he got, but why is David, someone who had very little interaction with Oliver and who was worried about the staff at Priority News, suddenly so happy?

  “The staff got to choose to stay on with the new owners, and best of all, For the Record is moving there. I talked to Mr. Monohan right before you got here, and the lease on this place is paid up for the next three weeks.”

  I nod, but I’m still not seeing where this is going.

  He smiles. “Think you can pull an art show together in that amount of time?”

  “What?” I’ve never shown my work, other than the murals, which I didn’t even sign in a way that people would know it was me.

  “You should sell your work at an art show right here.” He holds his arms out. “It’s perfect. Then you can put the money you raise toward starting your own art school. I’m sure the students you taught would want to take classes.”

  “Whoa.” He’s talking so fast, and I’m having a difficult time keeping up. “Alex, this all sounds great in theory, but I’d have to find a location for the school. One I could afford for the long term. I won’t make enough from one art show. We don’t even know if people will show up, let alone buy anything.” I hate to burst his bubble like this, but I have to be realistic.

  “Okay, just take a deep breath and answer this for me.” He waits, and I realize he wants me to actually take a deep breath. I do, and then he continues. “Can you pull together enough pieces in three weeks?”

  “Well, I’m currently working as a freelance writer for a newspaper, so my schedule is pretty wide open.”

  He smirks. “Okay, check one. Will you let me pay for an ad to run in the paper from now until the date of the art show?”

  “No way.” I’m not letting him pay for anything. “I don’t accept money from my friends or...” I’m not sure what to call him at this point.

  “People you’re sleeping with?” he asks.

  “Don’t put it that way. You’re more than just some man I’m sleeping with.”

  “I know,” he says, taking my hand in his. “You just seemed afraid to call me what I am.”

  “Which is?” I need to hear him say it.

  “Your boyfriend?” It comes out as a question, and I realize as much as I needed to hear him say it, he needs me to say it in return.

  “My boyfriend,” I say with a smile.

  “All right, if you won’t take the money for the ad space, then I’m sure Mr. Monohan will let you write stories in exchange for the ad space. It’s no different than him paying you and you paying for the ads.” He waves his hand in the air like it’s a done deal. “Check two. Will you let me help you find a location and possibly get you a discount on the lease by offering ad space to the building owner?” He gives me a hopeful smile.

  “You’re not pulling strings for me, Alex. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it on my own.” He starts to protest, but I press my finger to his lips. “I’ll tell you what you can do. You can help me find a location for the school. I’ll even let you come over and massage my shoulders while I paint.”

  “Can I massage other things, too?” he asks with a smile.

  I roll my eyes, but he knows I don’t mean it.

  “So you’ll do it? You’ll have the art show?”

  I nod.

  He stands up and pulls me to my feet. Then he kisses me. I have to admit I feel safe in his arms, like maybe my world hasn’t come crashing down after all. He takes my hand and leads me back into the newsroom. “Hey, everyone! Let’s get this crap out of here. We have an art show to set up for!”

  Everyone cheers, and my mouth drops open. “You talked this over with your coworkers before you talked to me?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “I had to be sure I could make it work before I went making promises I couldn’t keep. I’m a man of my word, Whitney.”

  I know he is. I reach up and say, “How did I get so lucky?” before kissing him. The room erupts in cheers.

  “Oh great. Two more to add to our collection,” Mr. Monohan says. “Welcome to the team, Whitney.” He nods to me before disappearing inside his office, no doubt to get away from everyone else.

  I watch as everyone packs up their desks. It’s the complete opposite atmosphere to what I experienced in my classroom. These people are happy about the move. And I guess maybe I am, too. None of this is what I planned. When I graduated college four years ago and was immediately hired at Priority High School, I thought it was a sign that this was what I was meant to do. But now everything has changed, and maybe it was supposed to. Maybe I’m meant to change paths.

  Alex takes my hand in his. “Hey, you should go home and start painting. We can’t have a show if you don’t have pieces to display and sell.”

  “I can’t go home and paint while everyone here clears out the office.” What would they think of me if I left them to do all the work when I’m now technically an employee and they’re cleaning in a hurry so I can have my art show in this space? That’s not exactly how I want to start off a relationship with my new coworkers. “I should help. You know, use this experience to bond with everyone.”

  His head jerks back a little. “You think helping total strangers pack up their personal belongings is a good way to bond with them? It’s a little awkward if you ask me.”

  He’s right. I doubt anyone here wants me to pack up pictures and who knows what else inside their desks. “I feel like I should do something to help. I could pack up the break room,” I offer.

  “First rule of working in a newsroom: don’t touch other people’s food. Learn that quickly and you’re going to fit right in.” He smiles, but I sense he’s not really kidding. “Seriously, go home. Paint. That’s the best thing you can do right now.”

  “I need to find out what story I should work on. I haven’t even met the features editor yet.” I don’t even remember her name. I raise a hand to my forehead, suddenly sensing a headache coming on.

  “Eliza isn’t going to be assigning stories until she gets her things packed up. I’ll give her your email, and she can get you your topic that way, okay?”

  He’s not going to take no for an answer, so I nod. He kisses my cheek lightly. “Now go. I’ll call you later.”

  I start for the elevator, waving to a few people on my way out. Once I’m inside and descending the four floors, I wonder what I can paint that’s going to be good enough for people to want to buy. No matter how much Alex manages to pull off for me, this show won’t be successful unless my work is good enough. My stomach plummets at the thought.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alex

  It takes the entire week, since we are working around story assignments and the Priority News crew clearing out, but we manage to have the new—old to some of us—office set up and ready by Friday afternoon.

  Mr. Monohan stands in the middle of the newsroom and lets out a long breath. “Well, you all did it. We’ve officially reclaimed this space. And thanks to our staff writers, we managed to stay on top of breaking news stories.”

  Not that there have been many this week. Other than the school board cutting the art program. Whitney cried in my arms Tuesday night. Even though she lost her job the day before the vote, I knew she’d take the news hard. I held her all night and watched her sleep. At least until she woke up at four in the morning inspired to paint. That’s when I left, so as not to distract her, and went back to my place. I feel like I’m spending more time at Whitney’s than my own apartment, not that I’m complaining.

  Mr. Monohan is still talking even though I’m not paying much attention. I check my email and see David assigned me a new article. With how busy we’ve been, we decided to forgo meetings to assign stories. The editors are email
ing them to us instead. Aria joked that Oliver Strauss’s spirit must be haunting this place since he hated meeting in person and preferred to email his staff. That got quite a few laughs and jokes about how the reason no one has seen him is because one of us secretly killed him. Writers have great imaginations. Personally, I’m glad I haven’t run into Oliver or his mother. I expected some backlash from my article, but I guess knowing he already has some restraining orders against him is making him keep a low profile. Maybe he’ll leave Priority all together. If he’s smart, he will. No one in this town will hire him after the way his reputation was dragged through the mud. My guess is he and his mother will move away and open a new paper under fake names. I don’t really care as long as I don’t have to deal with him anymore.

  “Do you think she’ll be up for it?” David asks me, standing next to my desk with a file folder in his hand.

  “Up for what?” I ask.

  “The article,” David says. “Didn’t you read my email after you opened it?” He points to my screen, which is displaying the message I’ve yet to read.

  “No, sorry. I zoned out for a minute.”

  “More than a minute. Everything okay?” He sits down in the chair next to mine. We’ve opted for the same circular desk pattern, but there’s more room here since the space is much bigger, so David has to slide his chair over to talk to me in private.

  “I was thinking about Oliver Strauss, actually. Have you heard what he’s up to now?”

  “Well, his mother’s house is on the market, and rumor was he still lived with her.”

  So they are moving. I nod. “Good.” I finally read his email, which couldn’t surprise me more. “Wait. I thought Whitney was going to be in Eliza’s department. Why do you want me to work with her on a news article?”

  David’s gaze focuses on me. “Look, when you started here a few months ago, you needed to work with Emily to fine tune your delivery. Whitney’s first piece was great because it was personal to her. It had heart. The problem is, she’s busy getting ready for her art show, and that’s where her heart is right now. Eliza and I feel that if she is assigned a feature story, she may not cover it as well. News is more straightforward.”