Pina Coladas And Getting Caught In The Rain

Chapter 1: Cliches and Cliff Diving

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Characters may belong to creators, but this story using them belongs to me.

A/N: Hi! Long time no see! Hope you're all well and healthy. I decided to write something lighter than my normal story, something a little lighthearted and fun, rather than the darkness that usually swallows up my stories. Strange for me, I know, but bear with me. It is just a silly little idea that has struck me. Like 'Innocence or Lack Thereof', its going to be a short story. I hope you enjoy it. Tell me what you think!

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"Abhigyan, you cannot be serious. I am a reporter, a journalist, I report the news. This," I said, holding up the latest edition of what my editor in his endless state of being convoluted thought I would be working on, "is not the news."

"Maybe not, but I need a copy editor for this section, and you are the only person who does not currently have a story to work on or something they are already writing. You are the staff member I have free. Not to mention I know what a perfectionist you are. Ishani will be on sabbatical for six months and I need someone over whose shoulder I don't find myself needing to look constantly."

Abhigyan stared at me. He knew I hated this. Ishani, my best friend, had loved being copy editor for this section. The idea of looking this over every day gave her a tiny thrill; she loved the idea that what she was doing might be helping people find love. She thought that everyone should be as happy as she and Kabir were, married for two years, together for almost eight, just about to give birth to her first child. She wanted to help people find that happiness.

That's right; Ishani was the copy editor for the personal ads.

"I'm begging you Abhigyan, anything but this. I will work wedding announcements; I will work obits, but please don't make me do this." I was begging now.

"Riddhima, Ishani made me promise to have you work on this when she was on sabbatical. You know how she is, and pregnant to boot. She wouldn't take no for an answer. She threatened bodily harm, and in her condition I thought she was likely to kill me and go into labor doing it. I had to say yes. And besides that, everything I said was true, you are a perfectionist. You can't hand in an assignment without needing to proofread it seventeen times before you give it to me. And because of that, I know you can handle being the copy editor for this. If you do this well, when Ishani comes back, I might bump you up to some higher priority stories. If you can prove to me you are responsible enough to handle them," he bribed. I frowned and furrowed my brow. It wasn't fair, him using the idea of my getting more exciting stories to pursue against me. He knew I had been dying to get some real, important journalism in. But I sighed. If at the end of six months, I could get better stories and it would make Ishani happy and less likely to throw a fit at me like she had been known to do, I would be the copy editor for the stupid personal ads, no matter how ridiculous it seemed to me.

I sighed, but agreed. Abhigyan smiled at me and I glowered back but said nothing else before shuffling off unhappily to Ishani's office. That was one perk of this new assignment; I was going to get my own office. It was the only perk. There was a letter addressed to me on the desk. When I opened the envelope, it was from Ishani, explaining the job to me. She had today's copy already set up, the copy for the next day's run would be brought to me at noon every day for me to look over and approve, at which point I would pass it on to my immediate superior, the editor for the entire classifieds section to be run. All I had to do was make sure all the p's and q's were straight; no one's grammar was too atrocious to be put into the paper.