Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

BLAKE

"I'm sorry, say that again," I tell Gillian. Is her heart made of pure stone? Has the woman no inner kindness at all?

"I said that I'd be happy to get you courtside tickets to a Bulls game, but you need to pony up something on your end."

"The boy has cancer , Gillian. He's dying ." How can she not see that it's her duty as a fellow human to do whatever she can to make his last days good ones?

"Is that somehow my fault, Blake?" Ice. Queen.

"No," I tell her. "But a normal response to this kind of request would be to bend over backwards and be helpful."

"I'm offering to be helpful," she says. "I just want something in return."

"Fine." Gillian is nothing more than a cold-blooded reptile. "What do you want in return?"

"I want you to write about a woman at the event that you personally find interesting."

She can't possibly mean that. "Come again?"

"I want you to write a first-person account of someone you've met that you would be interested in dating. "

"That isn't possible," I tell her.

"Why is that, Blake?" Again, with her "teacher reprimanding a bad kid" tone.

"Because I'm not interested in dating anyone here." Lies.

"It's a good thing you're there for another ten days then, isn't it? You still have plenty of time to find someone."

I stand up from the chair I've been sitting on and start pacing around the room. "What is wrong with you, Gillian?"

"Excuse me?" She sounds shocked that I'm standing up to her.

"Why can't you just be a nice person and help a dying kid fulfill a last request? Why do you need to get something out of it?" At this point, I don't care if she fires me.

"What's wrong with being a nice person and getting something out of it?" she wants to know.

"A nice person would be willing to do something for a terminally ill kid without having an ulterior motive," I tell her.

"I'm the boss, Blake," she says in that no-nonsense tone of hers that makes me see red. "Therefore, if I see a way to encourage my reporters to give me better stories, it's my job to do so."

A Hail Mary pass would be easier than bargaining with this woman. "What about journalistic integrity? What about reporting a story so that all sides are portrayed by a third party?"

"You're writing a fluff piece for our weekly circular, Blake. You're not doing any hard-hitting reporting here."

Ouch. I know I'm not covering the Middle East peace talks but even so, there should be ground rules. "So, you're looking for tabloid journalism?" Take that, Gillian.

"Call it whatever you want, Blake. But if our readers are not entertained by what we give them, they won't continue to read our publication."

"People read the news for news," I remind her.

"People read the supplemental magazine for entertainment," she responds. "So, if you want those tickets, you'll supply me with one article that is fully about your personal experience at the singles' event and give our readers a firsthand account of what it's really like."

"What if I don't meet anyone that I'm interested in?" I almost whine, trying desperately not to sound as pathetic as I feel.

"Then make her up," Gillian says. "I'll need your answer right now because it's going to take some time to finesse those tickets."

I am so steaming mad that I want to tell her what she can do with her job. In fact, I'm so disillusioned I would happily move back to LA and beg for my position back there. I haven't even unpacked my boxes yet, so it wouldn't be any harder than calling a mover.

But if I did that, I know I would never be able to get Ben those tickets.

"I'll write the article," I tell her. "But I want five tickets."

"Why five? You said you just needed them for the kid and his parents."

"I want five because I'm going to go to the game too and I might bring someone else."

She laughs. "Ah, the woman you're not interested in?"

"I was thinking about asking my dad," I tell her. There's no way Molly is ever going to want to see me again after I write an article about us in the paper. And while I could fabricate someone else, I know the story will only be as good as the heart and soul put into it. For that, I'm going to need to base it on reality. For that, I'm going to need Molly.

"I'll do what I can, Blake," Gillian says, "But your article better knock my socks off."

"Don't worry about me," I tell her. "I know what you want, and I'll deliver. But you'd better do the same. I want those tickets before you run my piece."

"I'll hand them to you personally, as soon as you turn your article in."

I don't have what it takes to be civil for another second, so I disconnect the call without even saying goodbye. How did I not see Gillian for the shrewd manipulator that she is ?

But then again, I was so excited about getting my dream job that I wasn't really looking for warning signs. Now here I am, about to get everything I've ever wanted and all I need to do is air my dirty laundry for all of Chicago. Not only that, but I need to air Molly's as well …

Opening my laptop, I start writing.

Here's the thing about being single that no one wants to talk about: you can't still be alone without having made a lot of mistakes. To be single means that you have rejected others, you've been rejected in return, and you've allowed hopes and dreams to build that ultimately hit a wall.

In order to not stay single, you have to open yourself up to risk and be willing to go through all of that again. And that is not easy.

I've had two long term relationships in my thirty-two years. With both, I thought I'd won the jackpot. Both ended in ways I did not see coming.

My first adult relationship was when I was twenty-three years old. Finley and I worked in the same coffee shop. She was an aspiring actress looking for her big break and I was an ambitious sports journalist with no idea how to break into the business.

Finley and I worked together for a month before I asked her out. Our relationship was built on shared aspirations. We fed each other's enthusiasm and consoled each other in times when our greatest desires seemed too far away to reach.

We lived together for two years. I sporadically wrote for various sports websites, and she was cast in the occasional commercial. In my mind, we were in the same place in our careers.

I envisioned mutual success, eventual marriage and children, and a life full of everything we ever wanted. We were going to be a dream couple living our best lives.

Then Finley got her big break, when she was cast in a recurring role on a nighttime crime drama.

I couldn't have been happier for her. For us, really, because I knew her accomplishment meant that I was also on the precipice of triumph. Finley did not see it the same way.

In her eyes, she was a star, and I was a dead weight holding her back from reaching greater heights. And for whatever reason, she didn't feel it necessary to tell me we were through before she'd already replaced me.

I found out what my new status was when Finley's show was nominated for an Emmy award. She told me that they only gave her one ticket so I couldn't go with her. I believed her until her show won. She walked up on stage with the cast to accept their award, then she turned to one of her co-stars and nearly sucked the lips off his face.

I was hurt and humbled in equal measure. I was also gone when she came home that night.

My second relationship ended more amicably, but it was still a shock to my system. You don't invest time and energy and expect things to just fizzle.

Now, I'm here at a singles' convention in Wisconsin wondering how this has become my life. I was angry when I got this assignment because covering events like this is not why I got into journalism. I was even madder when my editor told me she wanted me to write about my personal experience.

Early on, I met a woman that I liked very much but I made the call not to pursue her. Why? Because I was ordered not to tell any of the other participants what I'm really doing here, and I did not want to start something with her based on a lie.

While I want to keep telling the truth and outing Gillian for the manipulating she-devil that she is, I know my boss would have that part edited out. So, I continue writing:

This woman caught me totally and completely off guard. She's more than just outwardly beautiful, too. She's perpetually clumsy, she overshares, and she can be as bristly as a startled porcupine. While some people may find those things faults, I find them endearingly attractive.

For years, I have kept the women I've dated at arm's length. Past heartache can do that to you. But when the right person shows up in your life, it's easy to forget history and jump into possibilities for the future.

I hope I have a future with this lovely lady. Her name is Polly …