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The Chronicle was housed in an old warehouse It was a huge, gray stone building with gray ce that Sophie suspected had once been white The fluorescent lighting was nearly as old as the building The presses were in the basement Circulation and the other departments were on the first floor, and the editorial offices were on the second floor It was a huge space, yet each gray-paneled cubicle, including hers, was the size of a refrigerator A side-by-side, but still a refrigerator
The Chronicle could have been a depressing place to work, but it wasn’t Colorful posters hung above the gray file cabinets that lined the far wall, and each cubicle was brightly decorated Soave a hint of the occupant’s personality
Gary’s cubicle was decorated with half-eaten sandwiches and pastries, so crew touch his desk, and Sophie didn’t think it had ever been cleared of the clutter She wouldn’t have been surprised to find roaches skittering under all the garbage, but Gary probably wouldn’t have minded He was most likely related to some of them
Still hanging over her cubicle wall, his fraht just snap the panels When Sophie stood, Gary was entirely too close, his rancid aftershave overwhel
So that he couldn’t snoop while she was in Bitterman’s office, Sophie turned her co paranoid Just last week she had caught hiet around her password to access her e-h her desk Two draere open, and he hadn’t bothered to put the stack of papers back where she had left the at her desk, he sta down and hoas checking to see if hers was down, too
Bitter soed her way around the cubicles to reach his office at the end of the long roo fro in front of her boss’s door Wasn’t that the reward for the little mouse at the end of the maze?
“Hey, Sophie, heard from your father lately?” Gary shouted from behind
He had asked her that sa at the Chronicle, which was probably why she had taken such a quick dislike to hiht antagonistic Usually, people skirted around the subject of her dad, Bobby Rose, when they firsther first article when Gary had called over the cubicle wall, “Hey, Sophie Rose … oops, it’s Sophie Su your daddy’s name Guess you don’t want the world to knoho you are, huh? I wouldn’t either if my old man was a crook Who’s he scammed lately? Heard he’s ain, tell him ol’ Gary could sure use a loan Tell him a couple of million would do just fine…”
She hadn’t answered him then or the hundred or so other times he’d asked about her father, and she wasn’t about to answer him now
Gary wasn’t the only one interested in finding her father She received regular visits froovernency with initials All of them wanted to knohere Bobby Rose was; all of them wanted a pound of his flesh
She heard Gary call out his question again, but she continued to ignore him as she rounded the last cubicle and reached Bitterman’s office
“Shut the door, will you,” Bitter up
The urge to slaiven her enor second, with her luck these days she’d break the glass and Bitterman would make her pay to replace it Besides, if truth be told, she actually liked her boss For all his bluster and bellowing, he was a good man He loved his wife and family, and he cared about his employees, too, at least most of them
One of her conditions for accepting her job at the Chronicle was that Bitterman wouldn’t pressure her to talk or write about her father, which was the reason she had left her last job Bitteriven her his word, and so far he’d kept it He’d taken his promise a step further, too He shielded her as much as he could fro, bottom-feeders—he absolutely refused to call them journalists—who continually hounded her for an interview Bitterman also attempted, but failedevery aht to be left alone
No, she wouldn’t be slaravated her, Sophie would treat Mr Bitterently pushed the door shut, stepped around a crate of root beer, and waited for him to look up from the stack of papers he was bent over
“Sir, you really have to stop callingI’ve worked here long enough for you to know o over it one more time Sophie Summerfield Rose There Not so difficult to remember, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” he agreed “And you’re using your ht?”
Since she had just reminded him of her full name, she didn’t feel it necessary to answer
Bitterht No more Blond Girl I promise”
“Thank you”
He considered her for a long o knoho you are You’re Bobby Rose’s daughter”
“Yes, I areed “However, I don’t believe everyone in Chicago knohich is why I use my mother’s maiden name on my articles”
He tried to lean back in his chair, but the crates of root beer stopped him
Not wanting to continue the conversation about her father, she hastily said, “I finished that piece on ter I e-usting forhabits of beetles?”
He la
ughed “Why, Sophie Rose, are you giving me attitude? I think h sass frohters I don’t need to hear it from my employees, not even from my favorite one”
She sht”
He reached for his root beer “When they’re all chattering away at ht And yes, I do happen to have soton called and pitched a story idea You ever run a 5K?”
He explained the huht the copy should be, handed her his notes, and said, “Call hiet a couple of photos of hiet a good one of hi the finish line Harrington swore towas important”
“Shouldn’t Matt take the photos? He’s always telling everyone here that he’s the official photographer for the Chronicle; I’d hate to upset him You kno he can be” She didn’t say the word “neurotic,” but she thought it “The oes He could break glass if he tried With all these root beer bottles, it would be a disaster”
Bitterht Matt should take the photos … if he were still working here He quit on ht and told me he didn’t want to stick around this dump—his words, not mine—for two more weeks He said it was a waste of his valuable tiht … his valuable time He cleared out his cubicle lickety split” Bitterman waved his hands, one over the other, like a professional card dealer signaling to the ceiling cameras in a casino “I don’t know if he has another job lined up He told me he wanted to take important photos for important articles”
Sophie hadn’t known Matt well She’d only worked with him on a couple of stories, and both times he’d thrown a territorial tantrum
“To be honest, he was a lousy photographer anyway,” Bitter off the top of people’s heads, and besides, you’ve got a better camera than the Chronicle’s ancient one I think Jimmy Olsen used one like it in that Superman movie And those photos you took last ood”