CHAPTER FOUR
VERONICA

“Phone, video call Alyssa.” The metallic beep-boop sound comes through my car’s speakers as I wait for her to pick up the phone.

“Hey!” she finally answers, and her face fills the screen.

“Scoot over.” JT’s voice comes through the speakers, but I can’t see his face yet. I met JT when he was assigned to proofread one of my articles. We’ve been close friends ever since. “I want to say hi too.” His face pops into the screen right beside Alyssa. “Hi!” he singsongs.

I can’t help but laugh. “Hey, you two.”

“So, how’s the story going? Did you talk to the subject, yet?” Alyssa asks.

Why do I hate it so much whenever anyone refers to Travis Miller as the subject? I must’ve made a face in the camera view because they’re both cocking their eyebrows at me and staring into the screen like they know something I don’t. “What?”

“Don’t give us that ‘what’ crap.” JT leans forward, getting all up in my face through the screen. “What’s going on over there?”

“I’m driving,” I deadpan.

Alyssa’s eyes are searing through me right now. “You didn’t do it, did you?”

“Nope.”

JT holds up his hands. “Okay, wait. Fill me in. It’s rude to just have your little side bar conversation right in front of me.”

Sigh.

“She was supposed to get a candid shot of them loading onto the busses and make sure the angle made it look like they were dumping their shit out on the ground and we’d run it with a headline like Amaryllis: Making the Music Industry and the Earth a Garbage Can.”

“You agreed to do that?” JT asks with a scowl curling his lip up.

I shake my head. “You both know I wasn’t going to give Alan that story.”

“What are you going to do? That was literally your last chance to get anything on them.” I have to remind myself that she’s only scolding me because she loves me. “They’re already on the road.”

JT sighs. “Just make it up. That’s what Jerking Jenkins is doing.”

Ha! I choke on my spit from laughing so hard. “Stop that. I’m driving. Are you trying to kill me?”

“You know it’s true.”

“You’re not wrong,” I admit.

Alyssa holds both hands out and makes a grabby hands motion. “Give us something. Are you going to throw them under the bus, or what?”

I let out a slow breath. They’re not going to like what I’m about to tell them. “Alyssa, do you remember when we were at dinner the other night and I said I can’t do it Alan’s way?”

“Yes,” she groans. “I also remember he assigned Jenkins to it and he’s already back at the office and typing away like he’s been divinely inspired or something.” She snarls. “It’s gross.”

JT scoffs. “The only thing that inspires that man is money.”

“True.” His motivations for wanting to pursue this career are very different from mine. Everyone needs the paydays, but I can’t sell myself to the publishing floor. I just can’t.

“So, how are you going to beat him to the story if he’s already back here working on it?”

“I have a plan,” I say, hoping it’ll be enough to appease them.

They’re echoing each other’s expressions right now. They’re not impressed or amused. “We can help you, but you have to tell us what your angle is,” JT finally says with an exasperated tone.

“Okay.” I shift my gaze from the road to the screen for a split-second to make eye contact, so they can tell I’m serious. “I’m following the Amaryllis caravan to their first stop.” A notification flashes on my screen that the Amaryllis account is live right now. I resist the urge to join.

They both groan so loud, my speakers pop. “Girl,” Alyssa starts, but JT finishes the sentence for her. “Just take yourself off the story. Alan won’t fire you if you drop it and let Jenkins have it. He might fire you if you come back empty handed, though.”

“He might also fire her for writing anything other than what the brief requested,” Alyssa adds.

She’s probably right.

I clear my throat and focus on the road in front of me. “Listen, I can’t do this his way. I’ve never done anything his way. I’m still here. This might be my last chance with Entertainment4You, but it’s also my last chance to re-establish myself as an investigative journalist and not just a click-bait hunter for a gossip rag. You understand that, right?”

They both sigh and roll their eyes. “Fine,” JT says. “If you have to do this, then we’ll help you.”

“I can do this on my own.”

“I’m sure you can, sweetie,” he continues. “But if you really want to drive the point home to Alan and Jenkins, then you might need some friends in low places like the research room.” 

“And the floor,” Alyssa adds. “To keep an eye on the competition.” Her smile fades and turns into a scowl. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to help you put Jenkins out of his misery.”

I love these two. “Thank you, guys. With friends like you to get me into trouble…”

“Hey, we’ll be careful. I’ve got a free pass to use the company assets for research if I’m proofing a piece that’s been optioned by or commissioned for the journal. As long as they don’t find out I’m using their assets to help with a piece that’s unapproved and the opposite of what was commissioned—”

“JT, I promise. It’ll be worth it.”

He gives me a knowing look through the screen. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t believe in you. You know that.” He shrugs. “Besides, if they fire me then I can live out my dreams of being a touring DJ.”

“If anyone could pull that career change off, it’d be you, JT.”

“What do you need us to do?” Alyssa asks.

“I need you to keep Jenkins on your radar and keep me posted on what he’s up to that way I can stay in front of it.”

JT bobs his head from side to side. “I could probably get assigned as his proofreader so I can give you firsthand intel.” He rubs his hands together while wiggling his eyebrows.

“That sounds perfect. I’m one-hundred percent certain whatever he puts in his piece is going to be complete bullshit, so you’ll have lots of redlines and notes to leave for him.”

“Oh,” Alyssa groans. “She’s got it bad for the Miller guy.”

I shake my head. “I have seen his reporting skills up close and personal. Trust me, they’re sketchy at best.”

She points her finger at me. “Right, because you two were together for a while.”

Ugh! “Don’t remind me, please.” The last thing I want to do is remember that I was with that slimeball Jenkins for any length of time. “I had a strong lapse in judgment. It lasted about a year, okay?”

“Right.” They both say in unison. “To be fair, we both should’ve staged an intervention after the first date.”

I nod. “That would’ve been very helpful.”

Alyssa peeks over her shoulder. “I think they’re all coming back from the office meeting.”

“How’d you get out of it?”

“I told Alan I was two paragraphs away from finishing the story he asked for yesterday. I might’ve finished it last night, but he doesn’t need to know that.”

JT just shrugs. “I never go anyway.”

That’s also a fair statement. I can’t remember a single meeting I’ve seen him at.

“We’ve got to go. Drive safe. Call us when you check in to the hotel.” The phone beeps and black before resetting to my home screen. If I’m ever going to get back to where I want to be with my career, I’m going to have to take more chances. After the entire industry canceled me for blowing the lid off their best kept secret, I’ve shied away from taking big risks. Any risks at all, really. I don’t enjoy hiding in the shadows. This is my chance and I have to take it as difficult as it might be. I’ve already warned Alyssa I wasn’t kidding about the couch, and she said I could crash there until I got back on my feet if Alan kicks me off the team after this. It’s a risk I have to take, because I can’t keep writing things that don’t have an ounce of me in them. I got into journalism to report the truth for the world to read, not to report one-person’s or one group’s truth and understanding the reasons behind the smear campaign against Amaryllis might be the only way to do that. They’re obviously very different people than Alan would have the public believe, so why is he and Entertainment4You trying to trash their reputation? 

That’s what I have to find out.

---

Welcome to Dallas greets me from a bright green sign on the side of the road as I make my way to the exit lane. I have to squint to read the highway signs and make sure I’m on the right track. My GPS shows me getting closer to the hotel Alyssa booked my room at after our conversation a few hours ago. I’m hoping to get there in time to make it to the concert venue before the Amaryllis crew sets up for the show tomorrow. I made decent time from Tulsa, and since I’m in my little car instead of a huge tour bus, I’m guessing it’ll be a strong enough lead that I might have a chance to do a little digging with the venue employees beforehand too.

When I spot the hotel’s sign, I immediately notice how modest it is compared to the large and overdone image coming off the rest of the town. Alyssa must have picked this one out specifically, because it suits me just fine. I prefer things that aren’t as flashy or gaudy as this city’s overwhelming aesthetic. As I pull into the parking area, part of me wonders if city council decided that over the top would be Dallas’s branding, or if it just happened organically. Either way, it’s charming, but that doesn’t mean I want to trade in my little out-of-the-way hotel room for something more prominent or brightly colored. My job requires me to fade into the background to get the story; at least, my previous job did. The background is where I’m comfortable. Hopefully, after this article, I’ll be back on track with my career and can lurk in the shadows to find the stories people need someone to cover.

The lobby is simple, but well decorated and very clean. I like the minimalist approach. It’s not what you’d expect to find mixed in among the other businesses on this particular strip of the city. “Hello, welcome to the Dallas Inn. My name is Susan. Can I help you?” A friendly young blonde woman asks from behind the concierge desk.

“I have a reservation for Veronica Lang.” I say, pulling out my ID card and pulling up the QR code Alyssa sent after making the reservation.

She smiles and scans my phone’s screen with her own device, then turns her attention to the computer screen perched on the counter beside her. “Ah, yes. I have you in room one-fifteen.” Her hand reaches under the countertop and pulls out a set of digital keys. She pops them into a small device next to the computer screen and after only a second or two she retrieves them and passes them to me. “There’s information about events and attractions you might enjoy while you’re in town, which you’ll find on the nightstand in your room. There’s also a menu. Room service runs twenty-four hours, but options are limited between eleven p.m. and six a.m., but you’ll have access to the full menu the rest of the day.”

“Thank you,” I say, stuffing the set of digital keys in my back pocket.

“Would you like someone to help you with your bags?” she asks as a young man with a bright customer service smile comes out of the employees only area wheeling a luggage rack behind him. “George will be happy to assist you.”

I shake my hand and motion to the bag on my shoulder. “This is all I have. I can manage it. Thank you, though.” I wave awkwardly to Susan and George as I make my way to the corridor, which the plaque on the wall said would lead me to my room number.

Just as I’m rounding the last corner of this stretch of the hotel’s first floor, I run smack into the middle of a man dressed in a sport jacket and khakis. There’s a familiarity in the tone of his voice as he groans his frustration, like I just ruined his entire day. I push myself back and look up slowly. I’ve just run into the one person I didn’t expect to find here and the last person on earth I want to share a hotel with.

Jenkins.

“What are you doing here, Veronica?” he has the audacity to ask me when he’s the one who’s trying to poach my story—and my lead.

“You know I’m on the Miller-Amaryllis story,” I say, flatly. The smell of chlorine makes my nose wrinkle. Or maybe it’s being in the same space as his cheap cologne. It’s hard to tell.

He snickers and reaches out to run a finger along my jawline. “Aw, that’s adorable.”

“Don’t touch me,” I growl, taking a step backwards, away from his touch. “Alan gave me this story. You know that. I told you about it the other night at the restaurant.”

He pretends to not remember that conversation as he rubs his chin. “Did you?” His eyes scan the corridor as he leans in closer, making it appear that he’s just whispering in my ear when he’s just being a creep. “That was the same night you told me you needed space, wasn’t it?”

I nod and shove him back into his own bubble and out of mine. “And that still stands.”

“Maybe you should reconsider. We make a great team.”

I shake my head. “No reconsideration necessary. I’m quite sure I never want to be your partner again, work or otherwise.”

“Don’t forget that I gave you the chance more than once. All you had to do was play nice and I would’ve let you share the byline with me,” he says through a sneer. I watch him as he stalks toward the hotel lobby, wanting to make sure he’s completely out of eyesight before continuing the search to find my room. Sharing a hotel with him is bad enough. I absolutely don’t want him finding out which room I’m in. With any luck I’ll be able to avoid him for the rest of the night and first-part of tomorrow before I head over to the venue.

Finally! Room one-fifteen appears in my sights. It’s at the end of the row. Thank you! Only having rooms on one side of me lowers my chances of having to share a wall with Jenkins. My key slides into the slot on the door handle, causing a low-pitched beep and green light to appear as the door lock clicks unlocking itself for me. I push the heavy door open and make zero effort to keep it from slamming shut behind me. The loud click that follows signals it’s locked, but I still turn the knob for the second lock and slide the bar at the top of the door for added security. I might overdo it a little, but so what? Just as Susan from the front desk promised, there’s a flyer full of current events on the nightstand beside the bed and there’s a booklet full of year-round attractions in the city. I’m only here for one attraction, and I already know where to find it. Amaryllis, at the venue I passed on the highway about ten miles back. I don’t waste time unpacking since I’m out of here first thing in the morning, anyway. I just need a place to crash until tomorrow morning.

When I finally tug my phone out of my pocket and check the notifications, there’s a flood of Alyssa’s and JT’s faces on my screen. They’ve been freaking out about something, so I decide to call them both at once using the video group chat. Weird metallic beeps and boops fill the speaker until Alyssa picks up, followed by JT. “What is going on?” I demand. “You both almost blew up my phone.”

“He’s on his way there,” Alyssa screeches out first.

JT nods, wildly. “Alan gave him a plane ticket and sent him out about a half-hour after we talked to you.”

“Well, that explains how he got here so fast.”

“Wait, what?” they ask in unison.

“I already ran into him.”

“No way.”

“Uh-huh. Literally. I crashed into him while trying to find my room.”

JT groans into the phone. “You’re in the same hotel?”

“That sucks,” Alyssa says.

Mm-hmm. “It sure does,” I admit. “At least, it’s only for a few hours. I’ll be out of here tomorrow morning.”

“If Jenkins leaves after the show, you should stay the night tomorrow too, so you don’t have to drive back that late.” Alyssa asks.

“If Jenkins leaves…” I let out a heavy sigh and throw my head back against the upholstered headboard.

“What aren’t you telling us?” JT demands. “What isn’t she telling us?” he asks, this time looking at Alyssa’s feed. She just shrugs.

“I’m not coming back tomorrow night after the show.”

“Okay, if we’re going to help you then you’re going to have to spill.” JT is probably right, but I’m not sure I want to tell anyone what I’m up to because it sounds like I’ve gone into the deep end.

“I’m not going to talk to the Millers. At least, not right away.” Both of their faces are wrinkling up in confusion as they try to figure out what I mean. They look like I’ve lost my grip. I’m not sure they’re wrong, either. “There’s a story here, but it isn’t a puff piece about these do-good rock stars, and it isn’t about some rivalry between them and their ex-keyboard player. There’s something deeper here and I’m going to find it.”

“What do you think it is?” Alyssa asks.

“I have no idea,” I admit with a shrug. “It’s deeper than that though, and I think the best way to find it is to talk to the people around them instead of talking to them directly. If I can find out what is going on in their camp, then maybe I can find out what the bigger picture is without the filter of opinion or vendetta clouding it all up.”

“Okay,” Alyssa says. “I’ll start checking with my sources in the industry. I’ve got some contacts who are producers and a few who manage major concert venues. Maybe they can shed some light on some things.”

I nod. “That would be a big help. I’ll call you when I get to the next hotel to check in.”

They wave and both faces disappear as the phone turns black. I notice a message from my mom underneath the slew of notifications from Alyssa and JT, so I tap her profile image and call her back. It only takes two rings before she picks up. “Hi, Veronica. Where are you?”

“Hi, mama. I’m on the road.” I hate lying to her, so I give her as much truth as possible without giving away the fact that I’m on the road following a band because I got canceled from my old gig. 

No, I haven’t told them about that yet…

Yes, it’s been three years.

“On the road where?”

Why does she have to push the issue? “Top secret, mama. I can’t tell you.” I try to say the words with a lighthearted tone, so she doesn’t take them seriously, because I am not ready to have that conversation with her right now. They worked so hard to put me through college for my journalism degree and I screwed up my chance at a real career because I went too hard too fast, and for the exact people who control the success and failure of anyone trying to make a name for themselves in the industry.

“Oh, yes. I should’ve known. My daughter put on a top-secret assignment. Are you at least safe?”

“Of course, mama. I’m always safe.” I hate not telling her, but I don’t want to disappoint her or daddy. “I noticed you called. How are things going back home?”

Her expression changes to one of concern as she lets out a heavy sigh. “Same. The bank is insisting we come up with the full balance of the loan by the end of the year, or they’re going to seize the property and we’ll be out of a home and out of income.”

“I’m sorry. How can I help?”

“It’s not your problem to fix. You just take care of yourself, and we’ll be just fine.”

She always says things like that, but I can’t sit back and do nothing. They spent their entire adulthood taking care of me, so if they need help now, then what kind of daughter would I be to turn my back and refuse to do whatever I could to help? “I know you will figure something out,” I say to appease her, even though I will not stop trying to find a solution, too.

“Your father is excited about a potential booking the events coordinator is working on. It’s with some band called Amaryllis. Apparently—”

Gasp! “You’re kidding me?”

“You know them?”

A light chuckle escapes under my breath. “Yeah, I know of them.” I’m only chasing a story involving them right now. “They’re pretty popular.”

“That’s what your father said. He thinks the show might bring enough revenue we could get the bank off our backs and renegotiate the terms of our note without the balloon at the end.”

“I hope the plan works, mama. I’ve got to go for now, though. There’s a lot of prep work I still need to do for tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you too, mama.” I tap the button on the phone to end the call and turn it face down on the nightstand to mute all the future notifications I’m expecting from Alyssa and JT. I’ll check in with them again when I’m ready, but right now I just need to focus on finding my primary target sources for tomorrow, so I tug my laptop out of my bag and flip it open. As I wait for it to load and connect to the hotel wi-fi, I wonder if the show with Amaryllis at my parents’ resort could be enough to pull them out of the bank’s claws long enough for them to regain their footing.