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The NFL was deadly silent.
Eight minutes after we hit publish, Today Media’s CEO Stuart Kingsley stormed into the office, closely followed by the editor-in-chief of the normal news blog and the vice president of PR. Tanya stepped out of her office to meet them as they marched through the near empty newsroom, and we poured out behind her, a show of force that struck me as not unlike a rebel army.
The editor came within spitting distance of Tanya and pointed a stubby finger at her. “The fuck is this? I told you we didn’t want to rile Loft. And the Leopards? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“It’s called news,” Tanya said steadily. “Have you forgotten that’s what we report on?”
“Fuck that, Tanya. ” For a man who made his living through words, he didn’t use a particularly large vocabulary. “Have you forgotten that Loft’s ads are what keeps your precious magazine afloat?” His angry, mottled gaze swept all of us. “Which one of you wrote this?”
I could feel the tension of the room, thick as the summer fog, but no one looked my way. No one spoke.
I stepped up. “I did. ”
The guys groaned softly behind me.
Stuart Kingsley’s displeasure narrowed in on me. “And who the fuck are you?”
I folded my hands into balls to keep them steady. “Tamar Rosenfeld, sir. I started four months ago. ”
“Oh?” His expression purpled. “Four months, is that it? And after four months you think you know enough about this business to undermine everything?”
I couldn’t come up with anything to say.
He closed in on me. “At least most reporters sleeping with their subjects have the good manners not to write about it!”
I raised my chin. “It wasn’t safe. ”
“Then write it in your diary! You know what else isn’t safe? Losing the money that keeps us in business and putting your whole team out of a job!”
My eyes widened. “That wasn’t my intention. ”
“I don’t care what your fucking intention was, I care about results. And you. . . ” He ran a hand through his hair, and then jabbed a finger at me. “You’re fired. ”
Pain sliced through me like a dull, dragging dagger.
Tanya stepped up behind him. “You can’t fire my reporters. ”
“Don’t get me started on you,” he warned. “You’re lucky you’re not out of a job, too. ”
She got right in his face. “You fire my reporter, I quit too. ”
He stared at her. We all did. She had to be bluffing, but boy, it was quite a bluff. Because what if he called it?
He threw up his hands. “The fuck is this, a mutiny?” He spun around and glared at the guys. “The rest of you want to throw in the towel, too?”
Beside me, Mduduzi and Jin were silent, and I thought of how Mduduzi sent half his money back to his family in Zimbabwe each month, and how Jin’s fiancée had recently been laid off, and how they needed this money. And I didn’t blame them.
But I was surprised when Carlos stepped forward, and his voice didn’t quaver in the least as he said, “I will. ”
Stuart regarded all of us with disgust.
Tanya lowered her voice. “Look, this is a real story. ”
“That’s going to lose us a hell of a lot of money. ”
“And bolster our reputation. ”
“You should’ve run it by me!”
She lifted her head. “Better to ask forgiveness. ”
“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” He shook his head. “Let’s get a room. ”
They stormed off, each attempting to outrace the other as they entered a conference room along with the other adjuncts. Mduduzi let out a low whistle. “Hope they’re not taking her to the guillotine. ”
“Am I fired?” I asked. “Do you think I should pack my stuff?”
Carlos shook his head stubbornly. “Not without Tanya’s say-so. ”
Jin let out a low whistle from bent over his computer.
My stomach tightened. “What is it?”
“You got some reviews coming in. ”
Of course I did. But I couldn’t even bring myself to care. I’d told the story, and that was that. They either believed me or they didn’t. They hated me or they didn’t. I couldn’t change people, and I didn’t want to.
Billy, the receptionist, ran back into the room. “Where’s Tanya?”
We nodded at the closed conference door. “Why?”
“Greg Philip is on the phone. ” He knocked once and then let himself in, and out again before any of us had managed to look away.
Seconds or hours passed before Tanya leaned out of the room. “Rosenfeld, get in here. ”
Mduduzi saluted me. I frowned at him. “I’m not going to my execution. ”
The guys looked unconvinced.
I entered the conference room slowly, and closed the door when she gestured toward the table. No one was sitting, so I stood there too, with Tanya and Stuart and two other high-ranking Today Media staff that I’d never spoken to before. “How bad is it?”
“Pretty bad. ” Tanya sounded more pleased than I’d ever heard her. “Philip wants a retraction and an apology. ”
Stuart scowled.
I sat a little straighter. “For the truth?”
Her smile, though thin, was genuine. “They call it libel. ”
I let out a shaky breath. “So what happens?”
She shrugged. “Nothing. We wait. ” She leaned back in her chair. “We’re standing behind this story every inch of the way. Aren’t we, Stuart?”
He threw up his hands, and then glared at me. “This better be true. ”
“Please, Stuart,” Tanya said. She’d calmed down an awful lot. “You live for this. ”
He grunted, but he’d also calmed down a little, if I could judge at all by the fact that his face was merely pink, rather than magenta. “Do you know how much ad money you just cost me?”
“Talk to me tomorrow after marketing looks at our stats. ” She looked back at me. “You’re not fired. Get back to work. You still have three stories due this afternoon. ”
Somehow, I wasn’t even surprised. I took a shaky breath, and found that having a direction helped to stabilize me. “Will do. ”
I went back to my desk but actually couldn’t concentrate on anything, so I swiped up my phone and climbed up to the fourteenth floor, where anyone in the building could check into a phone booth. I closed the door behind me, automating the light, and dialed Mom.
She picked up on the first ring. “Hi, sweetie. ”
Her voice was so calming and normal that the world steadied a little bit. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“I’m good. I’m grading memoirs. How are you? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
I let out a shaky breath. “I am at work. I, um, we just published a kind of controversial article I wrote and I’m kind of freaking out. ”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sure it’s okay. ”
How was she sure? I wasn’t sure. She was my mom; it was her job to say everything was okay.
Then again, that was why I had called her.
“It’s about concussions. ”