***
Simon awoke with a start. How long had he been asleep? Why had his alarm not sounded yet? He fumbled for his phone and when he finally found it, it was almost 3.45 pm. His heart leapt into his throat. He grabbed his satchel, and didn’t even bother to look at himself in the mirror before he started running to the admin building where Riley’s office was located. He arrived in front of the office at 4.02, not yet too late to be considered completely unprofessional, and he chastized himself for taking a nap when he should have been focusing on work at the exception of everything else.
The secretary gave him an unnaturally bright, breezy smile, her eyes twinkling with a sense of unpleasant indulgence. There was something sickly sweet about her, like she knew what was going on and was trying to pretend like nothing was amiss. “Yes, Mr. Northbrook, they are waiting for you inside. You can go in.” She motioned to the professor’s door, her face the picture of contrived innocence.
They? Simon had thought that he was only meeting with Riley. He wiped his forehead, and noticed that he had broken out in a light sweat, and swallowed heavily as he walked through the door. The office was magnificent - it was at least double the size of Simon and Olivia’s entire flat, and was adorned with a portrait of Riley and his family, Conrad smiling between his stern-looking parents. A conference table was in a sunny corner of the office, and seated at it were two men Simon didn’t recognize, dressed in very expensive looking suits, and Professor Riley himself. Riley’s moustache was visibly twitching, and his piercing green eyes stared at Simon with a hint of disdain.
“Simon Northbrook?” the man finally bellowed. Simon nodded, and Riley pointed to the seat across from him. Simon would have to stare directly at the imposing figure throughout the meeting.
One of the men in the expensive suits said to Simon, “Good afternoon, Mr. Northbrook. My name is Mr. Minzi and this is my associate Mr. Reynolds. We represent Professor Riley and the university. He has explained to us that you would like to report abuse?”
“Not report it,” Simon said, his voice shaking. “I’m writing a story to expose how your son, Conrad…”
“I’m going to stop you there, Mr. Northbrook,” said the lawyer. He raised his hand to silence Simon, his manner harsh and domineering. “I wouldn’t say anything that you will regret later. I assume you’ve spoken to Mr. Zuko Mavuso. I trust that he told you that he signed a nondisclosure agreement about the events between him and Mr. Conrad Riley. I would like to remind you that it was a legally binding document with severe consequences if broken.”
Mr. Minzi stared at Simon without a word. Simon took a deep breath, imagined that Ian was sitting right next to him, his hand tightly squeezing his own.
“I would like to point out that unlike Professor Riley, I am not being represented by counsel. In addition, I am not writing a story about Zuko and what happened to him. I’m writing about a pattern of homophobia perpetrated by well-connected students on campus, and how they are being protected through unethical and questionable practices by management at Ridgemont University.” Simon silently thanked Ian in his absence for providing some encouragement.
“And who will you credit as your source for this story? Tell me, what exactly did Mr. Mavuso say to you?”
Simon’s mind was racing. What should he say to them? Whatever he said, they would be able to trace his connection to Zuko and he might be causing him a lot of legal problems.
Professor Riley, who had been leaning back in his chair expressionless, finally spoke then: “Mr. Northbrook, you are a very capable, smart young man.” Simon winced as the condescension dripped off the older man’s tongue.
“Top of your class, I am told, and applying to postgraduate studies in journalism in a few years, no doubt? Do you know Arthur Camus?”
Simon nodded slowly, reluctant to play into Riley’s hands. Arthur Camus was the editor of one of the largest papers in the province.
Riley leaned in closer. In Simon’s eyes, it seemed like he was closing in for the kill. “I happen to be a close personal friend of Mr. Camus. In fact, I have friends at many of the top papers and broadcasters in this country. It would seem that someone as ambitious as you are would know that.”
Simon sat in silence. He had walked into the meeting unprepared. He should have guessed that they would try to intimidate him, bribe him, threaten him. All he had thought about beforehand was his righteous quest to save Zuko from the evil management and egotistical, violent students. He hadn’t really thought about what kinds of consequences there would be for him.
Mr. Minzi spoke again, straightening his tie: “Mr. Northbrook, if you decide to pursue this discussion today, I will need to first know what Mr. Mavuso said to you. For legal reasons, it’s crucial that you reveal this information to me. If you refuse to cooperate in a reasonable manner, we will have to consider legal courses of action.”
Simon was in a corner. He wished that he had asked Ian to come with him. He would know what to say. But Simon was lost. Simon felt his chest tightening, and he tried to swallow uncomfortably, his throat dry with tension. Simon felt a distinct sense of fear, and he saw his entire future falling away if he decided to push ahead with the story.
He stood up then. “Thank you for your time, gentlemen.” He started walking towards the door.
Riley’s voice bellowed behind him, “I trust I won’t be seeing you again, Mr. Northbrook.”
Simon walked out of the admin building completely shaken. He was in way over his head, and he had underestimated how strongly Riley would push back against him. He started to question everything. Maybe Zuko was better off at another university. Maybe he didn’t have what it takes to be editor if he couldn’t stand up to people like Riley. This was an important story, but maybe it was too big for Simon to write.
Simon took out his phone and without thinking called Ian. He needed some comfort, and no one comforted him like Ian could. Besides, Olivia was basking in the sun at Camps Bay, unavailable to be there for him. Ian answered the phone, still not sounding like himself.
“Ian, I just went to see Riley. He had lawyers with him and they basically told me that they could end my career before it even starts if I pursue this story. They also say that they will prosecute Zuko for breaking his nondisclosure agreement if they can link any leaks to him. I don’t know what to do. I completely fell apart in front of them.”
“Simon, you’re on to something. That’s why they’re being so aggressive with you. They’re threatened. You’re getting to them. You need to keep pushing with this. You need to write this story, Northbrook! Not just for Zuko, but for anyone who could be treated the way he was.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this, Ian.”
“You can’t let your fear get in the way. You can’t miss out on the important stories because you want to stay on the sideline. Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty.”
Simon remembered how he had been too frazzled to interview Harry Baleka when he had had the chance, and how Margeaux had swooped in and stolen a career defining moment from him. He bristled at the memory. For some reason, when Ian said these things to Simon, he listened. “You’re right. I need to push this. I need to show everyone that I can be a real journalist.” Simon didn’t add that he really needed to show himself.
“I’m proud of you, Northbrook. You’re doing the right thing.”
Simon smiled and thanked Ian for the kind words. He loved the feeling of Ian being proud of him and encouraging him.
Ian spoke again, even more sincerely than before, “Why don’t I meet you at the office in the morning to discuss everything. I’ve been finding some info you might want to use in your story as well.”
“That sounds great. I could use your help. Another pair of eyes and another brain to think about the best way to pursue this.”
“Exactly. Oh, and Northbrook…” Ian hesitated for a while, and finally said, “I care about you too.”
Simon was speechless. The note! That small act of b
ravado, so significant for Simon, had been buried in his subconscious, as if its implications were too severe to bear. But it was real. And Ian cared about him too! Right before Simon was about to have an intimate moment with a lamppost, he jutted out of the way in the nick of time. Victoria Street had no special lane for pedestrians walking on air!
“I’ll talk to you soon, Ian. See you in the morning.”
“Have a good evening, Northbrook,” Ian said before hanging up.
Simon was approaching his flat, and didn’t care who was watching him; he started to do a happy dance in the street. A group of young women walked past him then and giggled at his silly dance. Simon, buoyed by his newfound carelessness, grinned maniacally at all of the girls, gave them all high fives, did an elaborate bow and twirl, and blew kisses at them. Simon was elated. Simon glowed with giddiness at the thought of seeing Ian again soon. He was most certainly en route to dethroning Margeaux as Guinevere – maybe there was something brewing between King Arthur and his loyal chief knight, Lancelot, after all, and Guinevere was merely a cover. Simon entered the elevator of his apartment complex, and to his surprise, he saw his reflection in the mirror, a bright, earnest, and hopeful smile spread across his face. What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter 16