“No, I don't think so,” Corrin says, shaking her head and holding her pen up in between her fingers as if it were a cigarette.
She uses it to gesture at me, punctuating her point. “It's time for you to leave. Get your things and get the hell out of here.”
“Wait,” I start to say, but she spins her chair away from me.
“I don't want to hear another word out of you,” she says dismissively. “Leave my office.”
With her chair turned away from me, facing the window, I back up and slowly open the door. I shut it behind me, uncertain as to how to proceed.
What do I do now?
Do I collect everything off my desk and go home?
How do I explain what happened?
How do I get them to believe me?
When I get back to my cubicle, I pull the articles up on my phone. They both state that I have made up the story and the sexual affair to make it spicier in hopes of getting a book deal.
D. B. Carter is quoted as saying that we have never met and though he likes to keep his privacy, he is breaking that rule just this once to make this public statement and clear up the uncertainties.
I ball my hands into fists and want to punch something and scream. Instead, I just silently scream inside my own mind, closing my eyes as tightly as possible. When I open them, I see a security guard from downstairs and he hands me a cardboard box.
“What's this for?” I ask.
“It's for you to collect your personal belongings. Miss Matthews has made me aware of the fact that you no longer work here and I will be escorting you out.”
Made aware of the fact that you no longer work here. His words reverberate in my mind. He doesn't use the word fired, it's probably too inflammatory. It's better to go with the passive tone and passive language, but that doesn't make it any less real.
He watches me carefully as I collect my things. When I reach past the computer to get something behind it, he tells me to leave it. He doesn't want me to touch it. Luckily, I usually work on my own laptop and all of my notes as well as everything for my story is stored there.
I clear out the cupboard of things, mostly pens and papers that need to go directly to the trash. I grab the succulent I just got last week and place it on top of the box.
Just like that, my life here is over.
I walk down the hallway holding my box in front of me, keenly aware of everyone either staring or averting their eyes to stop themselves from staring.
With my shoulders sloped down, I have the weight of the world on me. When the security guard presses the button, something changes. I drop the box onto the floor and walk briskly to Corrin's office.
“This isn't fair,” I say, swinging her door open with so much force that it slams into the wall.
Corrin jumps up from her seat and the door swings back and collides with my open palm.
“I'm not sure what I can do, Emma. You did just about the worst thing that a journalist can do.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” I say sternly. “This is a lie and you know it. Someone is trying to ruin my reputation.”
“They have quotes from the real D. B. Carter. They saw his identification. They talked to him in person. These are two major newspapers that do not publish fake stories. There's nothing that I can do,” Corrin says.
“I didn't do this,” I plead. “You have to believe me.”
Something changes in Corrin's demeanor. Her stern look relaxes for a moment and I almost think that she might take mercy on me.
“I believe that you talked to someone who you think is D. B. Carter,” she says with a sigh. “The problem is that it's not him and you should have double checked your sources.”
I shake my head, trying to keep the anger rising up within me at bay.
“This is why I gave you that private investigator’s contact information. He's very good at his job. He would have found the right D. B. Carter and not some imposter.”
“He showed me his notes,” I repeat myself. “I saw the books. I saw him work.”
“Listen, I'm really sorry about all of this,” Corrin says. “I know that you are going through a lot in your personal life with your engagement being called off and everything that you went through with Alex, it's not that I'm not sympathetic. I am. I just have a lot of damage control to do right now. This does not make our magazine look good and I can't have you working here anymore as a result.”
“I know that you think that he lied, but he didn't. I have my notes and I know what I saw. Those stories are bogus. Whoever talked to them is lying.”
“All the facts have been corroborated,” Corrin says, her tone of voice quickly shifting to familiar disapproval.
She's no longer trying to get me to understand. Now she just wants me to leave. Her decision has been made.
Well, not so fast. We're going to be done talking about this when I am done talking about this and I have something else to say.
The security guard behind me clears his throat and takes a step closer to me. She nods in his direction and I know I don't have much time left before he physically grabs me and escorts me out of here.
I take a few steps closer and lean over her desk.
I throw my finger in her face and say, “You should not have printed that article in the first place. You knew that those were my personal notes. You knew they were not intended for print. You knew there were things in that article that should not have seen the light of day and you did it anyway. Well, you know what, I'm glad that things turned out the way that they did. I'm glad that you have to retract a story that you should have never printed in the first place. Maybe it will teach you a lesson or two about going behind someone else's back and doing what you want.”
I spin around on my heels and walk away from her with my head held high. The silence in the office is deafening and I almost hear Aretha Franklin's “R-E-S-P-E-C-T” playing in the background as the soundtrack to my firing.
That's when they start to clap.
Shelby is the first one to put her hands together, but everyone else quickly falls in behind. The clapping gets louder and louder as tears fill my eyes as I get onto the elevator.
8
Liam
I flee as soon as the article comes out.
It's an impulse decision, but I have been prepping for four years. My bag is already packed and I throw a few more personal items into it, grab my dog, and start driving.
Before I am out of Joshua Tree, I have already made calls to a few people in town who will take care of my horses and animals for the foreseeable future.
All of this has already been arranged. I wasn't sure when this day was going to come, but I knew that it likely would and that I would have to act fast.
The positive thing about hiding out in a small town especially in the west where there isn’t a constant flow of people in and out is that no one suspects you to be anything that you don't say that you are. The problem with a small town is that people know who you are and that it would be pretty easy for a stranger to find you there.
Even though I knew that this moment was coming and I have prepared for it, I still find myself in shock and very slowly recovering from that shock.