The city was the same as always: unfeeling and filled with chemicals floating in the air. For Jenna, she was unsure why she chose the New York Times over any other publication in the world.
Sure, the name itself turns more than a few heads. Especially when you say "I'm a journalist" to your relatives. Specifically, your nitpicking aunt who immediately checks her copy of the paper to see "Jenna Kipling '' at the bottom of the third page, only to have her say "you missed a comma" and throw the paper in the nearest trash can. Surprisingly, that was the kindest thing she had ever said to Jenna.
But, Jenna knows, the city is where everything happens. From the robbers who stupidly live stream their "adventure in crime" without covering their faces to the occasional fight in the subway over the last seat on the train.
As Jenna sits in her office, silently praying the air will be slightly cleaner by the time she goes home, a woman wearing a lavender dress rushes in. Jenna squints her eyes though the glass walls of her office, trying to determine who she could be.
Jenna languidly places her coffee on her desk, kicking her feet onto the table. She decides knowing the identity of the woman isn't her job nor worth her time. Taking a bite of her egg sandwich, she contemplates turning on her "work mode" brain.
With a sigh, she readjusts herself. Dusting the crumbs from her work clothes, she notices her nameplate from the corner of her eye with a disgustingly out-of-place red smudge. She realizes Jim was here the other day, his unwashed hands covered in jelly from his morning donuts.
Taking a tissue out, she quickly wipes it away.
That was her first mistake of the day.
Just as she turned around, shuffling papers into rows, a loud "bang" was heard behind her. She quickly turned around to see the same lavender dressed lady staring straight into Jenna's soul.
She turns her chair around to see a stack of newspapers on her desk, the size of a comically large version of War and Peace.
"Can I help you..?"
"No. No no, you helped me quite enough already." The woman takes off her sunglasses to reveal bright green eyes. They were puffy as if she had been crying the night before. Yet, something about her face seemed almost... familiar?
"Do you remember me?" The lavender lady asks as if she didn't already know the answer.
Jenna contemplated faking a yes, but ultimately decides it would be foolish to piss off a woman who may or may not have a weapon on her.
Why didn't she report this woman before?
"No. I really don't know you, Lady." She tries her best to stay calm.
"I didn't think you did. But, I thought such an up and coming journalist would do her research more thoroughly." Her snark is never hidden from her voice.
"Right," Jenna drawls.
Taking her phone from her pocket, she tries to carefully dial security from behind her back. All she had to do was keep this lady talking.
"What brings you in, today?" She asks, her fake smile shining brightly.
The lady's eyes narrow ferociously.
"Well, Miss up-and-coming journalist. Why don't you use all your analytical skills and figure that out." She reaches into her pocket, giving Jenna a perfect glimpse of a small black object.
Jenna immediately knew what the object was. There was no point in beating around the bush or even trying to convince herself it could be something else.
"Put your phone where I can see it. Or else, I'll shoot you right now." Her eyes narrow, giving no hesitation toward her goal.
Jenna, knowing better than to be brave in the face of danger, quickly placed the phone on the desk.
"That's better." The Lady tipped her sunhat down toward her forehead. "I'm going to tell you a story. And, depending on your answer afterward, I'll decide what to do next."
Jenna tensed, suddenly realizing the severity of the situation. Was her adrenalin keeping her calm before? Or was it because she had yet to drink her coffee?
Speaking of coffee, she desperately wished to drink some. Yet, it was despairingly too close to her phone.
"What kind of story?" She lamely asked.
She could have asked anything else... yet her coffee deprived brain made her feel unprepared for this whole interaction.
The lavender lady stared blankly at her response.
"Your response only deepens my want to pull this trigger."
The lady was strangely calm for a maniac. It gave Jenna some semblance of hope toward surviving this whole ordeal.
"Listen carefully," the Lady closed the blinds to her office. "Perhaps you can write all about it one day."
YOU ARE READING
The Scoop
Short Story(VERY DARK) [Suicide] A look inside the life of a man who gave up on life. Clark, a man who had it all, and Jenna, the reporter who publicized his death. The circumstances between them run deeper than she first thought. [This is just a dark short s...
