Chapter Thirty-Five

C hapter Thirty-Five

A rna

I f the incessant buzzing could kindly piss off, I would vow to be a better person from here on out, no questions asked. Honestly, God, you have my word.

There is no way it could be time to wake up already . I thought as I allowed sleep to take me once again.

For all that is holy I am going to kill Paul.

What even is that noise - a blender? For crying out loud.

I needed to get up and make it stop. Make - it - st –

Silence descended once again.

Argh, thank goodness. The divine trinity was listening.

The endless beeping of my alarm jolted me awake and I raised my eye mask to groggily switch it off. Thus far, my head hadn't succumbed to a full migraine which made it a little easier to sit up. I already knew four hours was not enough to fully erase the fatigue though and if I didn't curl in a ball and nap under my desk today, Urban Pulse was going to get far more than they deserved.

Slowly, I pushed the blankets off and stood, noticing for the first time in a while it wasn't sunny, but rather overcast and dreary.

Ha – fitting.

Stretching out my stiff neck from the hours I spent hunched over my keyboard last night, I chose some clothes and jumped in the shower. Andy would already be at the club so I also needed to haul it into work because the article had no doubt dropped at 6:30 am as planned and I was antsy to see how everyone was responding.

I did know after the overtime I put in, that article should have been the final nail in the coffin to me securing the senior editor position. What I delivered to Darren's inbox in the early hours of this morning was not only the best piece of writing I had ever submitted, in my two articles to date, but provided an unbiased, well-balanced piece of journalism. It gave the facts while allowing readers the opportunity to self-reflect on their own behaviours and misgivings. Above all else, I hoped Andy appreciated it in the light in which it was written - with minimal insight into his personal life and his reputation in mind – but with care for him and the team.

I smiled to myself as I grabbed my things and headed out the door, happy for the hoodie I had chosen given the crisp mid-morning air. Connecting my earbuds I turned on my feel-good playlist and beelined for the cafe.

I noted four missed calls from Andy at around 7:00 am, when I was still dead to the world. Once I had my coffee in hand, I tried to call him back to no avail, but seeing as there weren't any SOS messages or emails, I didn't panic. He was likely training, or being tortured by the coach so I would try check-in again once I got to work.

My first indication that something was amiss was the silence which descended the office as I entered. I mean, this wasn't uncommon since news of my relationship first spread, however, the avoidance of eye contact was new and a sense of foreboding began to tingle in my stomach.

Sitting at my desk, I logged into my computer, but the sight of Felicity standing in Darren's office caught my attention. She stood with her back to me but there was something different about her body language today. She had her hand on her hip and her other gesticulated wildly, emphasising whatever it was she was saying. I could only catch sporadic glimpses of Darren's face but he appeared flustered, clearly uncomfortable with her words.

What the fuck was going on?

Typing my credentials into the computer, I sent Andy an email asking him how things were going at the club and informing him I'd seemingly entered an alternate universe.

Scrolling through my inbox, one eye still fixated on the conversation ahead, I cleared a few spam emails before the door to Darren's office flew open. I jolted upright as the noise startled me and Felicity appeared, her eyes red.

Was she crying?

She locked eyes with me, pausing as if she wanted to say something but was having some kind of internal battle. Darren stood behind her glancing between us quickly as his mouth moved, his words too quiet for me to hear. Something was wrong and when I finally looked at Darren properly – it registered.

I felt the confusion in my scrunched brows dissipate as realisation hit me like a sledgehammer. I lunged for my computer, opening the Urban Pulse website. I didn't need to scroll. I didn't need to click a link or follow a post. Because when it loaded, I felt all the blood drain from my face as I stared at a picture of Andy with the caption – Captain Cocaine Caught !

My eyes moved across the page quicker than my brain could process, phrases jumping out at me as if I already knew what to look for amongst the words which headlined our entire site.

Defamatory lies, fabricated quotes and embellished speculation sandwiched within parts of my own work. As I hastily scrolled, desperate to know the full extent of the damage, the fire roared in my stomach. It moved up through my chest, lingering in my oesophagus as my hand shook against the mouse, my eyes fixated on what I was reading.

It was the number one article in the country with 400 new views every minute – and counting. And my name was labelled at the bottom alongside my company portrait.

Senior Editor - Arnabelle Frost.

A manipulation of my trust. A bruise to my credibility but more importantly my heart. A doctored article which portrayed Andy as a drug meddling football player who fostered and encouraged substance use in the Hearts.

Closing my eyes I aggressively sucked in oxygen. The heat swarmed my chest, my cheeks flaming with lava which flickered behind my eyes. I cleared my mind – closing the mental tabs to anything other than my next move. I knew there would be no more discreet eye rolling or pasted smiles attached to fraudulent manners because this was beyond anything he had ever done. This was personal and there was absolutely no coming back from something so appalling. What happened next didn't matter – because I was done.

Schooling my features, I opened my eyes and shut off my computer. I could feel the knowing stares of every single one of my colleagues piercing my skin but I didn't dare look up. Reaching for my bag, which I hadn't even unpacked, I stood and slowly walked towards Darren's office.

Felicity stood frozen a couple of metres from his door, her panic-stricken gaze fixated on me and I spared her only a passing glance as I entered the office. Darren stood behind his desk, a look of satisfaction across his reprehensible face and I felt the fury cavorting through my bloodstream.

"I always knew you were a scumbag. I knew you were pathetic and jealous and incompetent. But I didn't know you were a narcissistic megalomaniac." My voice was void of all emotion as I spoke truths I had wanted to say for so long.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, woman. You're letting your hormones speak for you." Darren scoffed in a belittling manner but I could see the way my words hit a nerve.

"Are you fucking kidding right now?" I asked incredulously.

"Watch your mouth, Arna, this is a professional environment," He snapped. "I did you a favour. I also gave you a promotion. So perhaps you should show some gratitude."

"Professional? Gratitude?" I repeated his words for myself and him as surely, I hadn't heard correctly.

"Yes, Arna, gratitude. You think dating some drug addicted footballer makes you better than anyone else? You would be nothing without me. I should fire you for your insolence."

"Fire me?" I laughed; a maniacal smile etched on my face at his disillusionment. "You are unethical, unprincipled and unscrupulous. There will be no need for a termination." I added, laughing again as a sharp thrill buzzed through me when I noted the uncertainty on his face. Taking a step closer I stared him directly in the eye. "Darren, you are a cunt!" I stated plainly before lowering my voice. "And if you ever publish something under my name again – something you have manipulated and modified without my permission – I will destroy you. Publicly. We both know that if there is a war of words, you won't even come close to matching me so I would be very fucking careful." His face was red but he didn't utter a word.

Internally gloating at his stunned silence, I swiped the small prickly succulent sitting on his desk and shoved it at his face. "Go and deep throat a cactus, arsehole. I quit!" Dropping the plant onto the desk with a thud, I stormed from his office with a sick sense of satisfaction despite knowing it wouldn't last long and reality was going to be a bitter pill to swallow.

Looking around the near deserted office and my now empty desk, I sighed. The oppressiveness of the last two days weighed deeply on my shoulders and I wasn't sure what was heavier, the box of my belongings or the bags under my eyes which exhibited the less than three hours sleep I had since I was last here.

"Let's go, Arn." Marlee's soft voice halted what was one final moment of weakness where I contemplated reneging on my resignation before I nodded solemnly and followed her out of the building.

"Marls, thank y–" My voice broke as the tears I had kept at bay since I first read the excoriated filth escaped. Dropping the box of my things on the pavement outside, I leant against the wall and let my emotions free.

"Oh, Arna." Marlee threw her arms around me, the comforting smell of her coconut shampoo crushing me with a feeling of solidarity.

"I love him, Marls. And he didn't even give me the chance to explain. I didn't even get the chance to tell him those words weren't mine. I wouldn't have – I would never –" Another sob wracked through me and Marlee squeezed me tighter.

"I know, sweetie. I know. I'm so sorry. I wish I could fix this."

Looking around I noticed a few people watching, at least one with their phone out, and the comprehension that this could also be splayed across tomorrow's headlines hit me.

"Can you get us an Uber. All these people keep fucking staring at me. " My voice rose with the last few words forcing people to pretend they weren't actively watching my demise.

"Absolutely." She reassured, opening her phone and tapping away. "Three minutes, babe."

I didn't respond, instead leaning down to pick up the various items which had surrounded me for the last few years, as I did everything I could to hold my imminent breakdown at bay.

"I hate to be critical when you're on your deathbed, but your clothes smell like they've been sitting in a basket wet for three days."

"Hey." I protested before sniffing my shoulder, my mouth widening in outrage. "Oh my god! When did I become someone so reliant on a man that I didn't notice I smelt like arse." I groaned as Marlee giggled.

"Love makes us crazy, I guess." She smiled, but it looked pained and I filed that away for a conversation when I could concentrate more. My brain was a cloudy mess and it was taking all my energy just to get through each hour without running to Andy's apartment to beg him to listen.

When I did finally read the article Darren published under my name, I was disgusted. After my long overdue confrontation with my now ex-boss, I'd called Andy.

Eight times.

I'd followed that up with three unanswered text messages and five emails. By the next day I was upset with him too, for being so fickle that he didn't even give me the opportunity to explain. He had treated me no different to any other reporter who had written awful words about him as if the last few months meant nothing.

But I was also angry at myself.

Initially, I couldn't even dream that he wouldn't give me the opportunity to explain. I'd naively thought about how proud he would be when he discovered I not only quit the instant I read the venomous filth, but I also emailed our Head Office in Melbourne to voice my contempt at an organisation which would not only publish but encourage such blatant defamation. Further to that, I was almost certain Darren hacked my emails because there were things he would not – could not – have known. All of which I forwarded to the CEO. I thought Andy would have given me the benefit of the doubt, time to explain the obvious undermining which he would know could not have come from me. Alas, he didn't. So, I guess love really did make you an idiot.

A startling drug scandal within the renowned Sydney Hearts Football Team…

Hearts' captain Andrew Gloss states his younger brother was the supplier of the narcotics…

At local hotspot, Nexus, Gloss complicit as he "knew and should have stopped them" …

Raising questions into Gloss' captaincy and the culture within the sporting club itself…

Perhaps his talents are not only from hard work but hard drugs….

Snippets of the words printed with me listed as the author flashed through my mind, floating around like bubbles in a dream, fragile and transient, yet there none the same. A painful reminder of how easily whatever Andy and I had was corrupted and destroyed.

"The last few months evidently meant nothing to him." I said as we walked towards the waiting Uber, both sitting in the back.

Marlee didn't need to respond, I knew she agreed with me and told me so as we snuggled in my single bed last night. She rubbed my back as I threw up anytime I tried to eat and handed me tissues when my anger moved to sadness and finally resolve. What I thought was the beginning of something special and strong with Andy, was fragile as it crumbled like a delicate sandcastle washed away by the relentless tide created with every word Darren falsely published.

I glanced at Marlee when she tapped me and pointed to my vibrating phone in my lap. An unknown number displayed on the screen and I watched it ring for a few seconds before she leant over, swiped the call and answered for me. Even the most basic of tasks took far too much energy now.

"Sorry, may I ask who is speaking?" Marlee asked as I watched the buildings pass through the window. I didn't have it in me to speak to anyone. Not Dad or Queeny, who I knew were worried sick about me, nor a telemarketer or someone who had the wrong number. Even worse, I had started getting calls from other media networks looking for a comment on what was being dubbed, ‘ The broken Heart of the season' – gag.

Marlee tapped me on the thigh again drawing my attention and I rolled my head to see her look of uncertainty.

"Who is it?" I questioned, knowing if it were Andy she would have told him to stick his call up his arse and hung up already like only a best friend would.

"It's –" She paused, muting the phone before continuing, her voice a little stunned, "It's the CEO of Urban Pulse."