Part 8
“I’m going home now. I could use a hot bath,” and an evening to recuperate, she added.
“Sure thing, Darlin’. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Lois pushed herself back onto her feet, then went to pack her things up. She was still fuming, only she was running out of steam. She glanced over at Clark’s desk, remembering the planner she’d seen in the bottom of his files. Maybe she’d find out what he was working on…without her, no less. That must be why the planner had been in the bottom of his drawer. Surely if they’d been working on it together, or at least if it wasn’t secret, it would have been in the top drawer…well, maybe filed under some stupid organized name in one of those hanging folders. So why didn’t he want her to see it? She rarely looked through his drawers. Why should she? He was like an open book. Well, obviously not! Boy had she misjudged him! Slime man.
She yanked open the drawer, retrieved the planner and dropped it in her satchel. She’d have a look at it over the weekend. She’d also see what else she could find out about Cassandra. Perhaps she’d go over and break into her office after dinner. That would show Clark. She’d get the story by herself. Maybe a Kerth, or a Pulitzer. Serves him right. She flashed on the date she’d been preparing for. That was supposed to be tonight. Somewhere nice. Somewhere with Clark. Not as working partners, either. Well, it was just as well he’d shown his true colours before she’d gone to the trouble of…of…well, whatever. If he was the last man on the planet, she’d never, ever date him!
Yes, that would be a good thing to do to get her mind off…to work on her next award…she’d break into Cassandra’s office. She huffed out her breath in derision.
“Bye, Lois,” Jimmy surprised her as she passed his desk on the way to the elevator.
“Bye, Jimmy,” she said, her mind still on her partner and their broken date.
She punched the button in the elevator. The doors closed and she conjured up an image of Cat’s head being crushed. Just as quickly, Clark was in her imagination pulling the doors open and scooping Cat up and checking to see if she was okay.
Where did that come from? Was Cat really that important to Clark? How dare he go off with Cat for the weekend! The jerk. She kicked the metal wall. Pain shot up her leg. She rolled her eyes and lifted her foot to massage her foot. It was his fault. If he wasn’t such a tramp follower, her foot wouldn’t be hurting.
In the parking garage, she tossed her satchel into the jeep, then climbed in. She paused to breathe deeply, forcing herself to think about putting on her seatbelt, turning the key and shifting the vehicle into gear.
She drove past the familiar lines of parked cars, emerging up the ramp into the late afternoon sunshine. She glanced down the hill toward the front of the daily planet, checking for an opening in the thickening traffic.
A line of parked yellow cabs and a white stretch limo blocked her view. “For goodness sake. Why anyone needs such a long limo is beyond me,” she muttered, trying to see around it without poking her jeep too far onto the road.
Clark helped Cat into the limo while the chauffer held the door open for them. He would play the ‘couple’ act from the beginning, he supposed.
Giving up on ever getting onto the busy, noisy street, Lois leaned back, waiting until the couple getting into the limo had finished. Maybe they’d just get the heck out of her line of vision. She’d just wait a moment. Her hand itched to blow the horn.
She watched as the man put his hand on the small of the woman’s back and helped her in. It reminded her of the way Clark treated her. Fresh tears threatened her eyes. Hey…she looked more closely as the man turned his face in her direction as he bent to get in before the chauffer closed the door. That was Clark! What was he doing? Was that Cat? She wasn’t dressed in her usual flimsy attire. She actually looked like a ‘normal’ person! Clark was getting into a limo with Cat? No matter how she dressed, she’d never hide the fact she was just a feline hussy!
Cat moved over on the beige leather seat, providing almost enough room for Clark to get in beside her. She slid her hand onto his leg as he scooted in. The chauffer closed the door behind him and went around to the front.
“Well, it’s about time,” Lois muttered as he got in and started the engine. As the limo pulled away from the curb, Lois pulled the visor down and waited, hoping Clark wouldn’t notice her or the jeep they’d spent hundreds of hours in. Ooooh, if she ever got her hands on that two timing…
Jimmy got up from his desk and headed into Perry’s office.
“Boy Chief, you really got Lois mad.”
Perry looked up from his work. “Huh?”
Jimmy pointed over his shoulder toward the elevators.
Perry nodded absently. “Uh huh. What do you need Jimmy?”
Jimmy pulled up a chair. “Well, Chief. I was wondering.”
Perry put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, an impatient look on his face as he touched the tops of his fingers together.
“I…uh…I thought I was the photographer around here.”
Perry leaned forward. “Uh huh?”
“Well, I saw that camera you…uh…got for Clark.”
“Yes?” Perry’s eyebrows were raised as he tried valiantily to keep his temper. “I do have work to do here. Could we make this quick?” he waved his hand across the papers on his desk.
“Well, I was wondering Chief…” Jimmy sighed, then blurted out. “Why is Clark going to be taking pictures now?”
Perry blew out his breath. “Son, sometimes things happen that we don’t understand. One time, Elvis was supposed to play in Nashville.” Perry stood up and came around the desk. An Elvis story beat editing poorly written copy any day of the week. “Elvis was upset. When he told the Colonel…”
Jimmy stood up and headed quickly to the door, putting his hand on the knob. “Look Chief, I just remembered I’ve got to…” He opened the door and was out of it, mumbling something while his editor looked on in amazement. Didn’t that boy want to hear what happened?
Jimmy returned to his desk. It might cost him his job, but he wasn’t going to stand by and watch while his boss handed his job to one of the reporters. He flipped through his rolodex and picked up the phone. Perhaps the photographer’s union could tell him what he should do. From the sounds of the beginning of Perry’s story, his editor thought he had every right to do whatever he wanted.
