Tess
The gray of dawn had begun to seep through the large windows of the meeting room.
“Ms. Bellwood,” The National’s lead attorney began, “you’re within your rights to have a lawyer with you at this … riveting pre-dawn party.” He theatrically tapped the record button on his phone and sent it gliding across the massive meeting room table.
Tess watched the approaching red light, fighting the temptation to clear the sleep from her eyes. “At this ungodly hour? Any lawyer of mine would still be in Batman pajamas,” she quipped.
The attorney gave a brief shrug and nodded. “Your call.”
He flashed a perfect set of teeth. That familiar, insincere smile—the kind she’d often seen on politicians and other dissemblers—which seemed to say, “You’re out of your depth, but I’m going to play along and act like you know what’s happening.”
Tess felt a knot in her stomach. She was in a precarious situation, but this was why newspapers had lawyers, wasn’t it?
The legal team of The New York National occupied the eleventh floor of The National’s Times Square building, and Tess felt as if she were a kid called to the principal’s office. She tucked her sneakers under her chair, second-guessing her wardrobe choice. Why she had thought this meeting would be informal was beyond her; on the eleventh floor, no meeting was informal. And yet, there she was, dressed like a high school student in jeans and a hoodie rather than looking the part of a seasoned reporter.
The attorney, donning a meticulously tailored Glen plaid suit, sported a wild mane of salt-and-pepper hair that seemed to proclaim, “I’ve seen it all, honey.” She knew him from his warnings—Mr. Tight-Lips, always emphasizing the importance of confidentiality before major news stories were released. She’d always brushed off his veiled threats, but as the sun began to rise, the threat seemed much closer.
“Remember, this is audio-only. So, give me your best radio voice since we’re on the record.” Mr. Glen Plaid raised an eyebrow, then looked at the red light on the recorder. “Rumor has it you obtained a disc of the not-so-legal variety. Who gave it to you?”
Tess hesitated. She could invoke the “journalist card” and shield her source, but the gravity of the situation bore down on her. “Someone from the congressman’s office. A woman,” she conceded.
“And was this woman a frequent contact of yours?”
“No, we’d just met.” Tess’s mind drifted back to a local diner following a spin class. She remembered glancing at the menu before settling on a burger and fries. Jenny, her red hair still damp from the workout, seemed to take an eternity to make up her mind. The sound of the waitress’s impatient pen-tapping echoed in Tess’s memory.
“I’ll have the Cobb salad,” Jenny finally said. Once the waitress moved away, Jenny leaned closer:
“I just started a new job. Well, technically, it’s an internship. But it’s with a congressman.”
Tess, briefly sidetracked by a work text, refocused on Jenny. Internships like that weren’t just handed out. “You must have some connections.” Tess watched her closely, but Jenny quickly changed the subject.
“What do you do?”
Tess responded with a well-rehearsed line. “I work for The National.” In hindsight, Tess realized Jenny had known all along where she’d worked. Their seemingly chance meeting had been, in fact, a setup.
The attorney’s frown snapped Tess back to the present. “So, where’s this disc?”
Tess produced a tiny storage device from her pocket and placed it on the table. It momentarily became the focus of their shared attention, gleaming like a platinum ingot.
Glen Plaid rose, pacing with the assured grace of a cheetah. Every detail about him, from the suit to his mane of hair, was all-caps confident—like a runway model.
“Is that the only copy?”
“That’s the only one I have. No telling what other copies might exist.”
“Did she ask for compensation?”
“No, she didn’t.”
His skeptical gaze sharpened. “You didn’t find that strange?”
“I thought she might be … a patriot.” Tess inwardly cringed. A patriot? She’d pegged Jenny as twenty, twenty-one, and naive. The way she carried herself shouted Midwest, maybe Kansas or Missouri— definitely had just gotten to New York. Tess prided herself on reading people, but now, on too little sleep and without her morning coffee, she questioned her judgment.
Glen Plaid’s voice broke through her thoughts:
“When did you know she had something?”
Tess suddenly felt warm, hot even—she unzipped her hoodie for some relief.
“She’d called and told me that bad things were happening at the congressman’s office.”
The memory of Jenny’s concerned voice rang clear. Tess had thought she was doing Jenny a favor, while at the same time, securing a juicy story. Now, she wondered whom Jenny represented: the Russians? The Chinese? The other political party? No telling, because in the end, all of them were on the same side: their own. Her overconfidence had left her exposed.
As Glen Plaid ordered coffee, Tess tried to decipher his intentions. He poured her a cup, but his next action seemed strange—using a tissue, he picked up the disc as if it were toxic, then took it from the room. Through the meeting room window, Tess watched him pass it to his assistant with a whispered instruction. Their shared glance toward Tess told her everything. He wasn’t her ally, regardless of his seemingly benign demeanor. He returned to his seat and asked if she knew that the situation was going to blow up.
“I had no idea—I found out when I saw it on the news.”
He pressed, “You had no inkling before that?”
“None.” But she did remember a nagging feeling that she’d overlooked something. At the time, it was elusive, so she’d dismissed it.
Glen Plaid’s sharp eyes seemed to pierce through her, analyzing every twitch and flicker of emotion. He scribbled something and Tess felt her anxiety rise. What had he noticed? She resisted the urge to bite her lip as the situation grew increasingly unclear.
“I delivered a solid story,” Tess said. “Why am I being made to feel like a criminal here?”
But his reply was dismissive—“It’s not the accuracy of the story we’re disputing. It’s how you acquired it.” He grimaced as though he’d bitten into a lemon.
Tess couldn’t believe it. “So, even though the story’s true, you’re framing me as the villain?” She leaned in, holding him in her gaze.
It was then that a large security guard entered and stood near the assistant’s desk.
“I’m sure we both know where this is going. If you don’t have anything to add …” Glen Plaid pushed a piece of paper across the table. It was a resignation notice.
She pushed it away and said, “I’m not signing that.”
“Journalism is bound by ethics,” he said, “and the ends don’t always justify the means.”
“Oh, really? Are you implying that every story the paper publishes is a model of ethical journalism?”
Glen Plaid ignored the question. “You’ve exposed the paper to potential repercussions. It looks like we’re chasing drama, not truth.” He leaned forward, lecturing her. “News isn’t mere theatrics.”
Tess crossed her arms.
“And, we both know that you’ve also been doing another hustle, don’t we?” Glen Plaid stood and picked up his pad.
“What do you mean?” But Tess was terrified that she knew exactly what he meant.
He swiped through his pad, then placed it in front of her. It was a text message she’d sent from the building, which included the photo of a secret federal document she shouldn’t have had access to—a document she’d sent to her fiancé.
“I’m not sure what to make of it,” Glen Plaid said, then leaned in and pushed pause on the recorder. “But I think the feds would call this insider trading,” he whispered, then restarted the recording.
Tess felt her head begin to spin. He knew. With all the shady situations she’d seen her colleagues pull off—and now, the one time she’d stepped out of line …
“The documents you used about the congressman were obtained illegally,” he said, having moved on from the other issue—which meant he didn’t want that coming out also. Glen Plaid glared at her, then leaned over the table and carefully placed a pen on top of the resignation notice.
“It’s all standard. Sign at the bottom.”
They wanted her gone, as quickly and quietly as possible.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. The sound of the pen scratching across the paper seemed unnaturally loud. The ink had barely dried when Glen Plaid slid the document away from her and looked at it. Tess met his eyes defiantly.
He raised an eyebrow, put the signed paper into a folder, and flipped it closed. “It’s just business, Tess. We need to keep the company safe.” He shrugged. “It’s unfortunate that things had to end this way. But there are consequences for actions.”
Tess stood and pushed back her chair. Just like that, she was out— fired from her dream job. She held onto the massive table, trying to stabilize herself, stunned by how quickly things had turned.
Using his gold pinky ring, Glen Plaid tapped on the meeting room window, signaling for the security guard to come in.
“Take her down and clear her desk,” he said.
Irving looked like he might have been an athlete in his younger years. Now, he resembled a gray-haired Goliath—tall and impressively muscled. He calmly led Tess to the elevator. His towering silhouette contrasted sharply with Tess’s disoriented state. He pushed the down button. Tess kept her eyes fixed on its glowing light.
The air between them was thick with tension. In a different moment, she might have found humor in the situation: being escorted out by the building’s resident giant. But the weight of the past few minutes pressed heavily on her.
“You okay, Miss Tess?” Irving’s deep voice broke through her reverie. It was a voice she’d heard many mornings, always accompanied by the hint of a smile.
Tess shook her head. “I didn’t see this coming, Irving.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Irving touched seven, and the elevator began its descent.
