The Meeting Point by Olivia Lara
Two
I finally get to the front of the line in the Starbucks where I just saw ‘Natalie Bechamel’.
“Good morning, Maya. What will it be today?” asks the barista with a smile.
“Hi, Kay.” Kay has her own HEA that I wrote last year. Still waiting for it to happen.
“The usual,” I say. “One Venti Frappuccino with extra whipped cream and chocolate sauce; one grande, quad, nonfat, one-pump, no-whip mocha; one Tall Chai Tea Latte, three pumps, skim milk, no foam, extra hot; one Venti Iced Ristretto, four-pump, sugar-free, cinnamon, Dolce Soy Skinny Latte; and one Venti Iced Skinny Hazelnut Macchiato, extra shot.”
Always five, so I can’t carry them in a drink tray. Because why make life easy?
Once at the office I place the cups on my desk and start making the rounds. Janice—my boss—gets the Frappuccino, then the rest go to our team. I’m still considered the junior around here, despite being with the magazine for almost four years.
We’re about to have our morning meeting, and I already know what I’m getting. Either shadowing again or a neighborhood brawl, a briefing from a small local official, or a school sports team event. Now and then, if I insist, aka beg, I get to cover a book launch, but somehow, my articles never make the cut. Today of all days, I’m not upset about it though. I hope I get my assignment done quickly so I can be out of here on time. I have big plans tonight.
The moment I sit, Janice calls—yells—my name from across the corridor.
I take my notepad and rush to her, all ears.
“Remember I told you how we lost the story of Nakamura, the New York Times bestselling author who lives in Vermont and who’s recently been nominated for a Pulitzer?”
I nod.
“Well, we just got another shot at it. Last-minute thing, and since nobody has ever interviewed him, this is an incredible opportunity for us.”
I assume this means she’s going to Vermont. “I’ll book you on a flight for later today—”
“That’s the thing. You’ve been asking me for your big story for years now.”
Anything would seem big at this point. But this—this would be huge.
“What? You’re giving me the assignment?”
The moment I’ve been waiting for for so long, and it comes at the worst of times. David and I haven’t had a weekend away in ages. And the ones we’ve had didn’t take us further than Connecticut or Rhode Island and only because he had friends there. We need this time alone to see where we stand and try and get that initial spark back.
“I thought you’d be happy about it,” says Janice, raising an eyebrow.
“I am. Very happy. It’s just that this weekend is my birthday, and I have plans.”
Both her eyebrows are raised now and form a bothersome straight line. That’s bad news.
“I’ll go, of course. This is a big opportunity for me. Thank you.”
“For our magazine. This exclusive interview could catapult us out of anonymity.”
I’m still in shock. She’s finally open to giving me a shot. I know I can’t screw it up. Not if I want to be taken seriously as a journalist and do something with my writing.
“I’m giving you Mason,” she says before walking away.
Mason is the magazine’s photographer, occasional driver, and jack of all trades. Not my favorite character, especially after witnessing an unfortunate scene between him, his girlfriend, and her soon-to-be ex-husband, right here at the magazine. It ended with Mason hiding in the newsroom’s bathroom until the other guy left. Of course I wrote a story about him. Gave him lots of lessons to learn—about being kind, brave, generous. And, eventually, I redeemed him. He ended up living happily with his new wife, getting ready to have a baby. In my story, at least. In real life, just a few months later, a woman came by the magazine, saying she was pregnant, and he refused to acknowledge the baby or help out in any way. The resemblance between that woman and how I pictured his wife was uncanny, but that was the only thing I got right.
Mason finds me in the kitchen.
“Are you ready? We have to get going; it’s a long drive,” he says, sounding annoyed.
“We’re driving? That’s six hours one way, at least.”
He scoffs. “Tell me about it. You didn’t think she’d pay for plane tickets, did you?”
“This is going to be tight. We have to get there, do the interview and return right away.”
Mason starts laughing. “Why is that?”
“I’m going to San Francisco tonight.”
“Not if you want to keep your job. The interview isn’t scheduled until tomorrow afternoon. By the time we wrap up it’ll be evening. We’ll be back Sunday.”
My stomach drops. “Sunday? Oh, no.”
I’ve been planning this getaway for weeks, ever since I found out David was going to California for an interview, around my birthday. That’s when I got the idea of surprising him and showing up in San Francisco for a weekend together. Just the two of us. I even bought a fancy dress and shoes. Thought I’d make an effort.
He makes a dismissive gesture with his arm. “Are you coming or not?”
“I need to go home and get my backpack. It’s already packed.”
“Make it fast. Give me your address, and I’ll come to pick you up.”
My surprise is never going to happen! Our perfect weekend and my perfect birthday. The first one in a long time. Gone.