All Hours

It was early, but Murph considered himself a morning person. He always arrived at the office before anyone else in order to enjoy a couple hours of peaceful industry. Murph was also a night person, and for similar reasons. Staying late gave him time to put to rights the day's debacles.

He'd never really needed much sleep.

Becca aired the occasional protest, usually making mention of his annual stockpile of unused sick days and PTO, but she'd also entrusted the keys and security codes to him. Because Murph growled less when she let him stay on top of things. And that was better for everyone.

A distant ding gave him pause. It was barely six, which was when security unlocked the main entrance. Mick was on the clock earliest, since he worked part of his day remotely, staying on top of breaking news from out east. Tippy always arrived earliest, since she liked to have coffee ready before Becca dragged in, which probably made her the world's best administrator. But Tippy also liked to take Angelou down to the dog run behind the building for a good romp before things went mad.

But this wasn't Mick or Tippy or even Becca.

Murph had built up a kind of sixth sense where Levity Jones was concerned. Maybe it was some kind of latent survival instinct. Their relationship was … adversarial? Or maybe it was more territorial.

The Perspective held to a high standard, and it was his job to keep their star reporter—and her abysmal headlines—in check. In print, at least. He couldn't say the same for social media, where she did as she pleased. And did it well, given the numbers. The woman had more followers than their city had citizens. And lord, she was coming.

He supposed it was possible that she simply needed something from her desk. But that rarely stopped her from dropping by his. Even when there was no need.

Resigning himself to the inevitable, Murph stood.

The woman had enough of a height advantage as it was.

Also, he wanted to check which shoes she was wearing. He'd have put money on the platform sandals. At least, it sounded like them, and confirming it was suddenly important. Not that it mattered. Not that he cared. He just noticed things. Like misspellings and misquotes and misattributions. And the base score of any 7-letter word in Scrabble.

Levity wafted through his door in a cloud of yellow that swirled distractingly just above her knees. "Good morning!"

He drew himself up and grumbled, "Well-apparel'd April on the heel Of limping Winter treads."

"Aww, Murph! You say the sweetest things. Unless, of course, you're accusing me of treading upon your heels." And without missing a beat, she said, "You're as full of spirit as the month of May, And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer."

He sourly rejoined, "Now 'tis spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; Suffer them now and they'll o'ergrow the garden."

"Weeds? Really?" But Levity's tone was light, and her smile was undiminished. "In the Spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding. Sweet lovers love the Spring."

Conceding the bout, he averted his face and muttered, "As you like."

"Much as I enjoy bandying about with you and Shakespeare, I'm here with intent." She leaned against the raised ledge that made a flimsy barrier against so much force of personality. "I was on my way to breakfast when I realized you're the only one who hasn't responded in group chat."

He frowned. "I respond to all messages in a timely manner."

"It was on the after-hours channel."

"Oh." He refused to feel guilty.

"You have us muted, don't you?"

Murph retreated to his chair. "Thoroughly muted. Since the conversation there is not work-related."

"Today's Tippy's birthday, so we're all going out after work. You'll come, won't you?"

"I have plans."

"You do not. Don't be a stick in the mud. It won't be the same without you."

He shot her a pained look. Levity was everything he wasn't—outgoing, charismatic, confident in social settings. Murph knew his business, but most people didn't care about Oxford commas or misplaced modifiers. "You'll raise a glass and revel in fine style without me."

"Drinks at seven. I reserved the back room at The Squinty Eye. If you're late, I'll hunt you down."

This was no idle threat. It was uncanny how good she was at finding people.

"Come on, Murph. I chose someplace you like. That'll make it less horrible to spend time with us."

"You aren't horrible. You're …." But he didn't know how to finish the sentence. Levity liked him. He could tell. But she liked everybody. It was part of the reason why people opened up to her, telling her the kinds of secrets that made headlines.

Not dark, murky secrets, though.

She didn't hunt down scandals or scoundrels.

Levity's stories were sparkling things. Like her.

"The Squinty Eye. Seven," she repeated.

"Yes, all right. If you insist."

"Would you come if I didn't?"

"Never."

And with a smile that made his heart go hey ding a ding , she sealed his fate. "Then I insist."