When everyone else starts to gather around, I look for Corrin.

Surprisingly, today she comes in late. Normally, she's never late, arriving promptly at eight. Today she doesn't get in until ten, making me extremely nervous.

On the way into her office, our eyes meet and she waves me over flashing a ten-minute sign with her fingers.

Exactly ten minutes later, I knock on her door.

“Come in,” she says without looking up from her screen, feverishly typing something.

She looks frazzled and distracted.

I'm about to sit down when suddenly I see Mr. Matthews, Corrin's uncle and the owner of Coast Magazine, sitting in the corner with last month's issue across his lap.

“Oh, excuse me,” I say. “I can come back later.”

“No, Emma, please sit down,” Corrin says, turning her attention to me.

“You remember Mr. Matthews? I think you met at last year's Christmas party.”

“Yes, of course,” I say, shaking his hand.

He's in his sixties with a thick head of white hair, dressed in a sharp three-piece suit that fits him extremely well.

He doesn't look uncomfortable in it like some of my other colleagues, but rather like someone who's been wearing one for four decades. His hair is cut a little bit longer than most men his age and his face is tan with only a few lines. Overall, Mr. Matthews looks really good for his age. Hell, he looks good for someone ten years younger.

“I was just telling my uncle about the story that you're working on for D. B. Carter,” Corrin says.

The tone of her voice is very singsongy, unlike the way that she talks in real life. I can hear that she's nervous and that she's trying to please her boss.

“Um... actually, I did want to talk to you about that,” I say, hesitating.

“If we could get an interview with D. B. Carter and a story about him, that could really help with our subscriber base. I don't think I have to tell you this, but nobody's really reading magazines anymore. It may cost a lot less to publish them, but the circulation has been decreasing for years.”

Of course, I have heard the rumors, but it still catches me off guard to hear someone in his position admit that.

“I thought that it was going okay,” I say. “I mean, you've hired all of these additional interns and we're putting out so many more stories every month.”

“Yes, we're doing all that just to stay afloat,” Corrin says.

“Anyway,” Mr. Matthews cuts her off and smiles at me. “Let's not dwell on what we can control and let's focus on what we can. Who knows, maybe Ms. Emma Scott's article will be so well received that it will get picked up by all the big news outlets out there and will get 3,000 new people subscribed to our magazine.”

Holy shit, I say silently to myself.

I had no idea that things were so dire.

They both stare at me and I try to make myself as small as possible so that I could possibly squeeze through the crack in the door and disappear.

Unfortunately, I have no such luck.

“So, tell us what you have so far,” Mr. Matthews says and I swallow hard.

I don't know what to say. I came here to tell Corrin that I don't have anything.

That I had a lead on the story and that it led me to a dead end. But standing here before them with all of their hopes hanging on me, I open my mouth and change my mind.

“I found him,” I say. “I got an address from someone on a forum. I totally thought it was a joke, but I drove all the way out to Joshua Tree and discovered that, no, it's actually him.”

“Really?!” Corrin gasps.

I like the look of shock on her face. She had written me off a long time ago as both a stupid girl and a bad journalist, and it’s nice to see her so surprised.

“I’ve had a chat with him. He told me that a publisher offered him three million dollars for a three-book deal, but he turned it down because he was making so much money in self-publishing. Not many people do, but he's one of the really successful ones.”

“Wow. He turned down three million? How much is he really making?”

“About six million a year in profit and he's in control of his whole brand. He hires his editors and he makes his own covers. He does everything.”

“Holy shit,” Mr. Matthews says. “Maybe I should give up on this magazine and start writing a fantasy series.”

“It took him a while to get to this point and a good deal of books, but he told me about the whole process.”

“Why is that?” Corrin asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you said that you had no idea who he was. Then you found him and you just knock on his door. He lets you in and tells you everything about his business? Why?”

“Corrin, tone it down a little bit,” Mr. Matthews instructs.

“No, Uncle, I'm just curious. I don't mean any offense,” she says, throwing her hands up in the air.

“None taken,” I say.

I wonder if I should go into it further, but a part of me doesn't want to.

I don't want to tell them about the personal connection that I have to Liam.

Without that, Corrin is right, the story doesn't make sense. I don’t want to tell them anything else but then I might lose my job. I hate that I need to give them more.

“Actually, I met him earlier. He was at my engagement party. He went to school with Alex.”

I look at Corrin more closely to see her reaction to Alex's name, but her face is still and unmoving.

“We talked briefly, but that's it. When I went out to follow that address, I had no idea where it was going to lead me.”

“You never mentioned the story to him at the party?”

“No,” I say. “We were both very surprised by the coincidence.”

“Well, I would be very surprised if this wasn’t a coincidence,” Corrin adds.

I agree and say, “He claimed that he had no idea who the guy was that gave me his address on the forums. Other than talking to me, he is quite a recluse. He only attends a few writers’ conferences and never gives anyone his real name or his real identity. There are no pictures of him anywhere.”

“So, what's different about this?” Corrin asks.

“I don't know. Maybe he’s tired of hiding?” I suggest.

“And he’s okay with the story?” Mr. Matthews asks.

I pause, not sure how to respond.

“He went on the record with you?” he clarifies.

“Yes,” I say confidently even though I'm feeling anything but that.

“Well, good. It means that he trusts you to give his story justice.”

Corrin and her uncle talk about the deadline for this month's issue and eventually give me by the end of the day to write a draft of the story.

“I can’t do it that quickly,” I protest.

“You have to. Just start writing and I’ll help you polish it up,” Corrin says.

I walk out of that meeting in a trance, putting one foot slowly in front of the other. There’s only one thought running through my head. What the hell did I just do?

4

Emma

I sit at my desk for a long time, staring into space. When I snap out of it, I look through my emails and various social media.