Page 107 of Chasing Headlines
“I remember hiding in closets when my parents fought.”
“My mother left when I was seven.”
The pounding in my ears stopped. My heart stutter-stepped and slowed its pace.
She lifted her head and winced, those legs slowly unfurling. Her palms on the ground, she took a deep breath and closed hereyes. A blond piece of hair stuck to her cheek.Was she crying?The urge to move the wayward strand pricked at the tips of my fingers.
Milline's blue-green eyes opened and met my gaze. Her mouth tilted, then she lifted herself from the floor. I enjoyed the view for a moment—some combination of wiggling and stretching that I wanted to remember.
I ran a hand through my hair, my insides a jumbled, aching mix I didn't understand. I tried to tamp it down, but it just burrowed deeper inside my chest. If there was a way to claw it out—I just need to get out of here.I turned, moving through the doorway, I picked up her dropped phone and bag.
” . . . the whole lot of you,I'm the onewho sent him. We’re allowed to have air filters, ya damn hornswogglers.” Dotty huffed in the face of the lead maintenance worker. He glanced my way as I neared. I gave him my best Storm Cooper glare.
“You're supposed to create a ticket,” the director said. “You of all people know?—”
“Cooper works here. He was willing to help. There's no excuse for locking him up.”
“Oh my gosh, we didnotlock him up, Dotty! It was an accident for chrissakes.” The director-lady turned to look at me. “You're not?—”
“I'm fine. She's the one to worry about.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “Reporter. Probably already called her attorney.” I glanced at Milline over my shoulder.
Her eyes widened and she stared. Her face blazed a deep red color as she sputtered. “That'd be a neat trick seeing as you have my phone.” She made a beeline for me. Grabbing for her purse, she pulled it from my grip, then held out a hand for her mobile.
“We say please and thank you here, child,” Dotty groused. “Young people and their manners. And don't you get me started on you.” She wagged a finger in the face of the maintenance guy.“You're going to get me my air filters. Cooper will install them. No tickets this time, Becca.”
The back and forth faded as I met Milline's gaze. Pursed lips, chin raised, she glared. I held up her phone.
“Decided to add 'theft' to your rap sheet after all?”
I pressed my eyes shut as the verbal blow landed in the soreness of an open wound. “Cheap shot. But, fitting.”
I handed back her device. She pocketed it and crossed her arms over her chest. “You called yourself a delinquent.” She looked away. “That’sfitting.”
“Cheap shots are what I expect from reporters.” The words felt like sand on my tongue, worse than those dry-as-dirt sandwiches.
“Sorry. Guess I forgot for a second, that we're noton the same team.” Her ponytail whipped through the air as she spun away from me. Took a step and stopped. She glanced at me over her shoulder. “Don't worry, Cooper, I won't make the mistake again.” She practically ran to the lobby desk, the director hot on her heels.
And just like that, the churning stew inside me stopped. It froze into a solid, jagged lump that someone stabbed into my gut.
It was better if she left me alone. It was . . . better.
“Well, if there's one thing your mother didn't have to worry about, it was becoming a grandmother too young. Come on, Jack, we've got some maintenance to do while you say your peace.”
I glanced down at the pint-sized elderly woman with her white hair and pinched features. “I just came by to say thanks.”
A weird sort of smirk formed on her face. “Oh no, Mr. Cooper, you owe me one. So you're gonna change my filters and replace some light bulbs. And I've got dusting in high places that's long overdue.”
I shook my head and sighed. “Sure.”
“And you're gonna stop being a knucklehead, open those lips and talk.”
I crossed my arms.
“Or I'll call blondie back here and tell her the real reason you work the desk. I'm sure she'd love a story with some headline like: Tarnished All-Star Appears Nightly in Silverado.”
I rolled my eyes. “You make it sound like I'm on stage at a nightclub.”
“Yeah, well, no one accusedmeof being a reporter.” She pulled on my elbow. “Get your tuckus in gear.” I did my best slow-walk beside her. We paused at the hallway door. She pointed to the air filters leaning against the wall.