In my Arms Tonight (NYC Singles Book 2) (4 page)

Kat could understand why. Alex had a working-class relatability. He was the epitome of the American dream—born in a poor working-class family, he’d made a place for himself through education, determination and dreaming big. Without any political connections, he’d become the city council’s speaker at twenty-seven, then gone on to serve New York’s ninth congressional district in the House of Representatives for sixteen years.

Few things held as much allure in the eyes of the public as a self-made man. And Alex was definitely that. Plus, he was really charismatic. As a college student, Kat had been entranced by that charisma, too, and volunteered in one of his campaigns, not to mention voted him into the House of Representatives for six terms.

“Let me know how things go.” Bill’s eyebrow raise was an indication to leave.

“Thank you. I’m—”

Grateful
, she wanted to say, but before she could, there was a rap on the door and Li, the correspondent who had previously been covering the mayoral race, stepped in. In his hand was a pink slip. His eyes were red, swollen and very angry.

Immediately, her heart bled for him. She couldn’t imagine how much it sucked not just to be told that you were laid off, but to be told that a day early. A heartbeat ago, she’d almost been in that position.

“Bill, what’s this all about?” Li held up the slip, emotional.

Li was young, only twenty-five. They were even cutting young reporters now?

“Li, I’m sorry. It was a management decision.” Bill looked away.

“But my performance review was positive!”

“I’m sorry.”

Kat moved to the door, knowing that it was time for her to make her exit. She gave Li a pat on the shoulder.

Later, she’d console him. Maybe put him in touch with some of the contacts she had at other newspapers.

She traipsed down the red staircase to her desk, where Post-Its, documents she’d gathered from the city hall and papers that needed to be filed waited for her in neat piles.

Trying to procrastinate, she got to her toes and peeped at Min-Jung, who sat in the cubicle right opposite hers. Min-Jung was typing away furiously, her straight black hair shaking with every upward thrust of her shoulder, but when she saw Kat, she paused.

“Tell me you didn’t get fired.” Looking through worry-creased black eyes, Min-Jung, whose desk was opposite Kat’s and separated only by a wooden partition, stretched out her cramped fingers.

Min-Jung was one of the reporters who’d started working at the
NYT
around the same time as Kat and though it was rare in the world of journalism, Min-Jung and she had a relationship devoid of any professional jealousy.

“What? No!” Kat raised her arms above her head. “But Bill did give me an extra assignment.”

“Thank goodness.” Relieved, Min-Jung got back to writing up her article.

Min-Jung was usually more talkative, but deadlines could turn anyone into a temporary typing fiend.

Kat slumped into her chair. The screen of her Mac lit up and she smiled when she saw her desktop background—a photograph of her receiving the David Nyhan Prize for Political Journalism.

It was the biggest highlight of her journalistic career because the prize was generally awarded to older and more experienced journalists. She was the youngest person in its history to have won it. Even now, she remembered the feeling of victory so vividly.

She’d been so happy, she’d drunk champagne for three days afterwards and then slipped on the staircase and fractured her hip.

Looking at it reminded her why she was in this profession in the first place.

And while she was still in this profession, she should get to work.

Kat flicked through the mayoral candidates’ Facebook profiles, Twitter accounts and websites when the ring of her phone interrupted her concentration. She picked up. “Hello,
New York Times
, Kat Cullen.”

The voice on the other end was volatile and furious, spewing a string of expletives at her.

She’d just been wondering where the obligatory ‘hater’ call was. Every morning, somebody called to complain about something she’d written. Usually, this was a one-sided conversation with a good measure of cussing thrown in.

Maintaining the sweetness of her tone, Kat said, “Have a nice day, sir.”

She didn’t let shit like that ever get in her way. She was incredibly lucky to (still) be a staff writer at the
NYT
. It was the dream of millions of journalism students, and it had once been hers, too. A dream she had thought was almost impossible. Yet she was living it now.

Be grateful
.

Bad days were part of every job. Hers wouldn’t define her.

But what she did with them would.

So, shutting off the whining in her head, she immersed herself in doing what she did best—writing.

Twenty years ago

T
here were some people who could lie. Then there were some people who just couldn’t.

Kat was the second kind.

Since the minute the whole Bobby-Ben issue had cropped up in class, she hadn’t been able to get a wink of sleep. Every single night, she tossed and turned in bed, recalling Ben’s distressed face and trying to forget about all the mean things she’d seen Bobby do to him.

But the worst was the acid that burned the pit of her stomach every time Ben looked her way in class. She’d turned away, tried to ignore the guilt clawing at her chest, but it didn’t help.

Only the truth would help. Even if it didn’t help Ben, it would help her sleep.

Sitting up, Kat heaved sigh after sigh, trying to chase away the tension knotting her muscles. Stretching out her arm to reach for the cookie that her dad always left on her table, she scarfed it down. For a moment, the chocolate-chip-and-sugar combo helped take her mind away from the inner battle she was fighting.

Only for a moment.

The right thing to do would be to tell Mrs. Ching everything.

But Kat was afraid.

Bobby was a bully and she didn’t want to be his next target. The kids in her class still treated Annie like an outcast after Bobby and his gang had tripped her in PE and she’d broken her nose. Now her nose was crooked and she got teased for it all the time.

Involving herself with the Ben mess would be buying herself a two-year ticket to hell. School was bad enough without having Bobby giving her swirlies and trying to extort money from her.

Ben’s pitiable face flashed in front of her and she wavered. Why did she have a conscience? Why? Why couldn’t she be detached? Why was she always sticking her nose into everything?

Absorbed in herself, Kat was surprised when the lights came on and she saw her mother’s foreboding visage. Hiding the cookie wrapper under her pillow, she slipped under the covers.

“Why’re you up? You have school tomorrow.” Mom clicked her tongue.

Kat shoved her body deeper into the bed. “I was sleeping.”

“You weren’t.”

The weight of her mother’s body sank into the mattress.

“Go. I’m sleeping,” Kat cried, worried her mother would know she was eating junk food at night. The cookie thing was a secret between her father and her.

“What’s bothering my princess?” Pulling down the covers, her mother exposed her. Thankfully, she’d licked away all the chocolate marks from her lips.

Kat resisted the urge to blurt it out and ask for advice. No. Bad idea. Adults didn’t have a clue about middle-school politics and she didn’t have the patience to explain. “Nothing.”

“Something is.” Leaning closer, her mom searched her eyes. “A boy?”

“Do you know Ben in my class?” Kat couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“The one whose mother we met at the church last Sunday?”

“Uh-huh.” Kat moved her head like she was dribbling a football. “He’s in trouble. Someone’s been bullying him since the beginning of the year and it’s gotten really bad. I want to say something to Mrs. Ching, but I don’t want to get into trouble.”

Her mother rubbed her chin with her knuckles. “Sounds like a difficult situation.”

“Keeping my mouth shut about it shouldn’t be so hard, right?” Not doing something was supposed to be easy.

Her mom’s hair ticked her neck as she was pulled into an embrace. “I remember when I was in high school, one of my friends was in trouble because of a boy, too. She didn’t have the courage to tell anybody about what he did to her and it kept making her miserable. She started skipping school and doing… dangerous things.”

Drawing a pillow and squishing it between her crossed arms, Kat blinked. “What did you do?”

“I told her parents what had happened.”

“Then? Did they do something?”

“Yes, but more importantly, I felt better. And once the worst was over with, she felt better too.” Her mother brushed Kat’s hair behind her ears. “The thing that makes people happiest is knowing that they’re not alone. That somebody cares about them enough to stand up for them. If you stand up for someone, they’ll remember for the rest of their life.”

Goosebumps rose over Kat’s skin. Surely her mom was onto something here. “Do you think I should do something, then?”

She faced up, uncertainly.

“I can’t tell you what to do. You must always make tough decisions with your heart.” Placing one palm on her chest, her mother said, “In your heart, there is never any confusion. Everything is always clear.”

“It is.”

The next day at school, Kat blurted out everything to Mrs. Ching after class and felt a huge wave of relief. She didn’t know whether it would change anything, but what she knew for sure was that it made her feel lighter. Better.

Ben caught up with her between classes and muttered, “Thank you,” with the most grateful expression on his face and Kat felt like she’d accomplished something very great.

That night, she finally slept.

F
ormer US Representative Alex Summer exited the Northern Manhattan mayoral forum with a defeated sigh.

For two hours, he’d listened to his competitors, fielded uncomfortable questions, tried to convince the public that he was the man they needed in city hall and pasted the widest fake grin on his face. Now he could relax.

Frown. Curse. Be himself. And curse some more.

His pulse was flying in the late hundred and fifties, but returning to normal slowly. Public speaking and politics made his pulse race.

It wasn’t because he was nervous. Just the opposite. Politics excited Alex so much, he couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline that streamed through his system every time he talked about the ideas he had for New York City, the issues closest to his heart and the strategies he hoped to implement.

People who’d been in the political arena for twenty years didn’t usually have that kind of excitement and optimism. Newbies half his age were twice as jaded as him. And why wouldn’t they be? Congress’s approval rating was the lowest in recorded history. The gulf between the public and the elected was growing. The private life of his fellow politicians was the stuff tabloid dreams were made of. National politics was becoming a circus that it made
Keeping Up with the Kardashians
look meek in comparison.