Hot Off the Press (A Hailey Webb Mystery, Volume 1) Read online

  Jerry’s eyes grew wide. “Was?” he prompted.

  I had to fight to keep my voice even. “The night before our wedding, I walked in on him banging a cocktail waitress who was serving at our rehearsal dinner. Our rehearsal dinner! While my family was eating dinner right there in the next room!” I had to swallow hard to get around the sudden lump that had formed in my throat. “I dumped him, my job, and the apartment I shared with him all on the same day.” I planted my hands on his desk. “I need a job, any job. I want to do this. I know I can do this.” I didn’t even blink, and I didn’t have to lie. I did know I could do this.

  Then I took a deep breath. I felt exhausted, like I’d been bleeding all over the floor.

  Jerry stared at me for what felt like an eternity, and I could see the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Can you start today?” he asked, pulling another glazed donut out of the box.

  I blinked twice.

  “Uh . . . sure.” I was stunned.

  “Good. Glad we’ve got this settled.” He pushed the box of donuts toward me, a sympathetic smile on his face. “Help yourself.”

  “Thank you,” I said, choosing a powdered jelly one. I took a big bite, savoring the sweet taste of powdered sugar against my tongue. I’d been depriving myself of sugar for the last six months to prep for my wedding, then again to save money on food after I broke off my wedding. So this donut tasted like . . . freedom.

  Jerry continued. “We’ve got a big load of work and we need someone out in the field for various tasks.”

  “Out in the field?” I asked. I’d assumed this job would be more indoorsy.

  “Yes. Is something wrong with that?”

  “No, sir. I mean Jerry,” I said, sitting up straighter.

  “Being an assistant here means you’ll have a lot of errands to run too,” he said. “So it’s more like an assistant, errand-runner job. We’ll pay you a monthly fee for gas.”

  I nodded. That definitely sounded a lot different from my old job.

  “There will be news-related work, and you will be asked to do other things as well: to arrange for catered lunches if there is a need. You may be asked to find some holiday doodads to spruce the place up in December, make it look less damn depressing.”

  “Absolutely. I can do that.” Not my dream assignments but they would pay the rent.

  “The way we work at the Gazette, some of the tasks will be more personal in nature: picking up dry cleaning, buying gifts for people’s kids to take to birthday parties, things like that.”

  “Okay,” I said in a small voice, somewhat taken aback. I had never heard of that kind of job at any kind of paper, let alone an old dusty place like this. It did not give off the vibe of the place that pampered its employees with dry-cleaning pickup service.

  Jerry took another donut, grinning at my obvious confusion. “I’ve found that it’s a way to make sure my reporters have their minds on the tasks at hand. There’s more productivity; there are fewer mistakes. If their eyes are on the clock, wondering if they need to run home and let the dog out, that’s not good for us. They might get a little clumsy with the facts, not take the time to give the story that little special something to keep the reader’s interest up.” He paused to study me. “Hey, Webb, you like dogs?”

  “Dogs are good,” I said.

  “I should have asked that earlier. Our reporters like their dogs.”

  What a crazy job. This place was really quirky, but quirky could be good. Plus, what I’d wanted was a job where I wasn’t tied down to a desk. The more I moved around, the less time I’d have to think. Any thought that popped into my head was better squelched. I sat back in the hard chair and decided the job would work out fine. There were worse ways to earn a check than browsing in the toy aisles to buy some kid a gift.

  “There are two others on the staff, Cecil and Cassandra, who do the same kinds of jobs as you,” my new boss explained. “Sometimes we will ask you to do some online research, providing background for our stories, or to verify some facts. There are other times you’ll be out in the field, where you’ll talk to sources, confirming that the quotes we attribute to them are, in fact, what they said.”

  I nodded, munching on my donut.

  “There’s a wave of lawsuits hitting our industry, and we absolutely hate printing corrections as a consequence of factual errors and misquotes. Do you understand?”

  “Of course,” I nodded. “I have a question, though.”

  Jerry looked up at me.

  “Can I get in touch with a source by . . . phone?” I asked. I had to say, this system seemed highly inefficient.

  “Hell, you can try,” He let out a laugh. “In our experience, people are always lacking the time or desire to talk to another person from the paper once they’ve spent time with one.”

  “So basically, what you’re saying is my job would be to ambush people on their way to work or while they’re getting in their car in the morning?”

  Jerry grinned and took another donut. “Smart girl,” he said. “But don’t you worry, Webb. People are friendlier, it seems, once you get them face to face.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “This is a learn-by-doing kind of job. There are no mentors here, no training. We just throw you in.”

  Oh, goody.

  “Yes, sir. I mean, Jerry.”

  “We’ll get you started if you’re game,” Jerry said.

  “I’m game.”

  “Take notes, Webb. I’m about to hit you with a lot of information.” He outlined the process for tracking down news sources and getting their confirmations down on record. I could use a recorder, but people often didn’t like that, so I should always carry a notepad and some pens just in case. At least two pens, said Jerry. One of them could stop writing when you needed it most. Then he explained how to talk to people so that they wouldn’t change their original statements. “That just makes extra work.” He also talked a bit about the kinds of research I might be called upon to do. Then he gave me directions to human resources, where I could get my employee badge. “Head back to my office after that, and I’ll show you your space,” he said.

  “Thanks.” I took a jelly donut with me on the way out the door, smiling as I bit into it. A big blob of jelly landed on my white shirt as I stepped out into the hall, and I cursed under my breath. I tried to wipe at it with my fingers, smearing the purple goop into an untenable mess. That’s when I ran smack-dab into a hard chest.

  “Watch your step,” a familiar voice said. I could feel a blush rush to my cheeks as I looked up, my mouth still half filled with donut. It was the guy from the parking lot! He was grinning down at me again with that little half smile, as if he saw a joke in everything. I wrinkled my nose at him then stepped out of the way. “You got a little something on you, right here.” He pointed at my right boob, where the jelly had landed.

  “Thanks,” I said sarcastically.

  “Mike Hadfield,” he said, the grin not leaving his face. “Reporter. And you are?”

  “Hailey Webb,” I answered. “New assistant.”

  “You’ll want to stay away from him, Webb,” Jerry said from behind me. “He’s nothing but trouble.” There was a laugh in his voice as he said it.

  “No trouble today, boss man. Just looking for that report we talked about for my piece next week.” Mike turned that unnerving grin back to Jerry. “Can I grab it?”

  “Left desk drawer, on top,” Jerry answered.

  Mike gave me one last grin before walking to the desk, leaving me tingling all over. I liked the way his dimples deepened when he smiled. I liked it way too much.

  Okay, time to walk away.

  Chapter Two

  Ten minutes later I left the human resources office with an ID badge around my neck. Now I was officially a part of the determined-looking group rushing past me in the hall. The place seemed full of purpose and the knowledge that each day might hold the unexpected. Yes, I might just like it here. I was feeling confident, despite the purple
blob of jelly that seemed to announce to all that I had made a mess out of the uncomplicated task of walking with a donut. At least the stain was underneath my blazer in the picture. Fashion choices, I’d found, could cover up a multitude of sins.

  When I got back to Jerry’s office, he was on the phone. He held up a finger as if to say that he’d be right there. I stood outside his door to wait, glancing at the cubicles around me. I took in the buzz of voices and the sound of fingers flying over keys—the sound of a paper being made.

  “Get on in here, Webb.” My thoughts were interrupted by the summons of my boss. As I made my way into his office, he looked me up and down. “By the way, we dress casually around here. You’ll want clothes you can move around in—comfy shoes and all of that. Who knows where you might end up heading off to. All of that dress-for-success kind of hoo-ha, we have no need of that.”

  “Got it.” It would be a nice change to lose the pencil skirts and heels.

  Jerry cleared his throat. “Well, let me show you to your cubicle, and I suppose you’ll be official. We’ll get you going on some projects.”

  My new space had a desk, a phone, a computer, and barely enough room for me to turn around. Jerry hit some buttons on the computer and showed me how my tasks would come in on the machine. I could accept or decline, he said, depending on if they interfered with something else that I had scheduled. “You’d be surprised at how much there is to do around this place,” he said, explaining how I could load the program on my phone as well. “That way, you don’t have to stop back at the office if you’re out and about.”

  I pulled out my cell, and we got me set up on there as well.

  “Hey, Jerry, seen Cassandra?” A slim guy with unkempt red hair and big glasses stuck his head in, looking somewhat frantic. “She’s not answering her phone.”

  Jerry ran a hand thoughtfully through his beard. “I saw her dash by this morning with some samples for the book and entertainment guide. Where she got to after that, I really couldn’t say.”

  “Ah, man. I was hoping she could get some sandwiches at Banyon’s. The sports guys are covered up with all the baseball trades and chasing down some rumor about some coaching scandal.” He pushed up his glasses, which were sliding down his nose. “They couldn’t stop for lunch and, well . . . they have quite an appetite in sports. I was heading out for subs and then I got pulled into something else, so I could really use Cassandra.” He finally took a breath. Even conversations were hurried around here.

  Was it already time for lunch? I glanced at the computer on my new desk to see it was just past noon. The morning had flown by.

  Jerry smiled. “Cecil, you’re in luck. May I introduce Hailey Webb, who’s about to save your hide and pull the sports department from the brink of starvation.” He gave me a wink. “Do you know how many sandwiches one sports department can devour? There might be a joke there if I had time to write it.” Then he turned back to Cecil. “Hailey here just joined the team this morning. I thought we could use a third assistant along with you and Cassandra.”

  Relieved, Cecil nodded but seemed anxious to run off to whatever came next on his agenda.

  “Sub sandwiches. I’m on it,” I said, determined to show them from the start they’d chosen well in me. Cheerful and efficient.

  The men briefly conferred, and soon a list of sandwich orders appeared on my phone.

  “Banyon’s Subs and More. Two blocks down and one to the left,” Cecil called as he hurried off. Then he turned around and grinned. “Thanks, and nice to meet you, Hailey!”

  Jerry gave me more directions about paying for the orders and checking for new tasks, then I was on my way.

  I took my Jeep instead of walking since the task seemed rather urgent. Plus, there was a very long list of sandwich orders, way too much for me to carry.

  Still, I had a nice walk from the closest parking spot, and the line in the sub shop was seven people deep. The smell of sweet peppers and spicy mustard filled the air, making me crave a sandwich the instant I walked in. I did love a good sub, and the stress of interviewing—and starting a new job—had left me hungry.

  I shifted from one foot to the other as the leather on my shoes pinched into my ankles. I watched the cashier-sandwich maker as she took her slow, sweet time ringing up a customer. I’d be in line awhile. Not that it was my fault, but the most resourceful of assistants would find a way to get those lunches quicker. The only question was how. Then I could feed those hungry writers and contribute to the flow of recaps, score updates, and the latest in sports news for eager fans across Southern California.

  I tried to come up with a plan as I watched the young girl behind the counter make a sandwich at a glacial pace. Now she paused, seemingly confused over whether she should add sliced tomatoes or chopped onions. I felt hot in my blazer in the stuffy sandwich shop. If only I were up a little further in the line. There had to be a way to make this whole thing go faster. A successful businesswoman knows there is always a way. I made it a point to always act like the power player I planned to be one day.

  I looked around for an idea and was met by a familiar pair of eyes in a majorly gorgeous shade of blue. Mike Hadfield was almost at the front of the line. He was smiling at me from the clump of anxious, hungry patrons. I knew, of course, that it was not exactly fair to cut in line. But if these people knew my story, they would surely understand—first task on the new job, first impression, and I deserved a break. I vowed to pay it forward at a future date.

  Avoiding the dagger eyes, I scooted ahead in line to take my place beside him. “Thanks,” I said to him, noticing once more his seemingly perfect white teeth and his soft, full lips. “I’m picking up lunch for sports.”

  “Which has led you to my favorite lunch spot. I highly recommend the spicy half Italian with potato salad. How is your first day?”

  “First assignment right here, but it sounds like it will be an . . . interesting place to work.”

  “That’s one way to put it.” He gave me a wink that made me think there could be some very interesting aspects of this new job I had. Then I stopped myself right there. After the world’s worst rehearsal dinner, I’d decided to take a break from men. I needed time to heal, and this was a smile that could most likely break some hearts. Plus, that wink was surely just a comment on the quirks of the Gazette and not the kind of flirting my silly mind imagined.

  When it got to be his turn, he motioned for me to order first. “I know how hungry those guys get in sports,” he said with a chuckle. “Hailey, you go ahead.”

  Something in me melted when he said my name. Girl, you’re in trouble now.

  As I placed the order, a photo caught my eye on the menu behind the counter. Gooey cheese spilled out of a sandwich that was piled high with meats and vegetables. Just as the girl started to ring up the order, I added a half Italian sub with a side of potato salad. I said it almost in a whisper, conscious of the fact that the crowd behind me might already hate me just a little.

  She nodded and, to my relief, no one behind me sighed.

  A short while later, Mike helped me load my bags into my Jeep.

  Back at the Gazette, I loaded the bags onto the desk. I swear that it was not two seconds after Sandra called the sports department that a group of guys descended on the desk. Perhaps they’d smelled the sandwiches before they got the call.

  I looked down at my phone to see that some other tasks had come in, which was good. I liked keeping busy, feeling needed. I sat down at my desk with my sandwich and did some research on local job trends for the city desk. As the day went on, I signed for and distributed packages, made copies for a meeting, and picked up a pair of pants from an alterations shop.

  “Thanks,” a young reporter said with a sigh when I handed him the neatly folded pants covered in clear plastic. “For my brother’s rehearsal dinner. Can’t miss that!”

  I tried not to cringe at my two least favorite words.

  It was about five thirty when Jerry appeared at my desk,
a smile across his face. “Webb, they tell me you did well. Glad to have you on the team. This is about the time of day when we let you go home. Get some rest tonight, and we’ll see you in the morning. Workday starts at nine.”

  “See you then,” I said, thankful for a workday and a starting time, for things to keep me busy, and, of course, for the money. Also, I was thankful it was quitting time. I hadn’t stopped all day, and I had earned my rest.

  “Oh, one more thing,” Jerry said, “always check your cell in case we need you after hours.”

  He hadn’t mentioned that in the interview.

  He noticed my surprise and shrugged. “News doesn’t only happen from nine to five, you know. Sometimes the news won’t wait.”

  Chapter Three

  Stepping outside, I took a deep breath of the salt-laced air and sighed.

  That went better than expected. Now I had a job! I did a mental happy dance.

  This change was long overdue. In the past few anguished months, as I took a deep look at my life, I had realized that my work with books was no more than a paycheck. I’d been passionate about it once, but that had faded after more than eight years. Now I would earn enough to pay rent, eat real food, put gas in my Jeep, and buy some new clothes. It was all I needed, really.

  A twinge of excitement filled my chest. I was ready for this new phase of my life.

  Just as I climbed into my Jeep, my phone chirped as I placed it on the passenger seat. I picked it up, shuffling through my messages.

  How did it go?

  The newest text was from Kat, my BFF. She had apparently texted me that same question three times during the day, but I had not had time to answer. Knowing her, she was probably gearing up to send it again.

  Got it! I added a little smiley face. I am now employed again!

  I got back a series of excited emojis. Dinner 2 celebrate, girl? I’m hungry!

  Definitely worth a celebration. All right. Hot dog stand in 20?

  Deal. I’ll bring the pooches.

  I started up my Jeep and headed out, my head still filled with a slight buzz from my success.