The Last of the Stanfields(16)
“Except that would be doing exactly what we’re trying to stop,” Sally-Anne countered. “Staff reporters should be hired solely on qualifications, with zero regard for gender, skin color, or religion.”
“Great idea.”
They began drawing up plans for their project right then and there, surrounded by their ragtag group of inebriated friends at the hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. First and foremost, the plan for the newsroom was drawn on a cocktail napkin. Rhonda, the oldest of the group and a junior accountant at Procter & Gamble (and rumored to have a history of attending Black Panther meetings), offered up her professional expertise. She began to sketch out the strategy for an operating account. She also drew up a list of posts to fill, the pay scale, and cost estimates for premises, overhead, supplies, and field expenses. She promised to calculate the cost of paper, printing, and shipping, and the margin that had to be allocated to distributors and dealers. In exchange for these services rendered, Rhonda was gunning for the title of CFO.
Their friend Keith shook his head and cut in. “Let’s assume that your project does somehow scrape together funding—which, mind you, is not at all a given—no one would ever print your rag, much less sell it. An investigative newspaper run by women?”
Keith was a strapping young man, built like a bear with a square jaw and intense blue eyes. Sally-Anne found him attractive, and had had a fling with him for a few short weeks before losing interest. Keith, however, was pining to get back into bed with her. Beneath his hardened shell was a willing lover with soft hands who gave Sally-Anne just what she wanted. But no matter how adept they might be between the sheets, Sally-Anne never grew attached to men. After six weeks, she would get sick of their antics and move on. Keith, however, had also managed to catch May’s eye, a fact that had not escaped Sally-Anne.
May suspected that Sally-Anne had broken things off with Keith just to clear the way for her to have a turn. “You can have him; he’s all yours,” Sally-Anne had declared, having returned home one morning after leaving him high and dry. May balked at being next in line after Sally-Anne, and got an earful from her lover in response.
“Come on! Get your kicks wherever you can. Don’t hesitate when an opportunity presents itself. Worry about the consequences later. Believe me, if you don’t, you’ll end up either bored silly, or becoming boring yourself, or both,” she concluded, before ducking off to the shower. May could see straight through Sally-Anne’s self-proclaimed rebel veneer into the arrogance that lay beneath.
Whenever May and Keith made eye contact, she had to struggle not to picture the dalliances that Sally-Anne had recounted to her from time to time. Tonight, however, when Keith mocked their project, May delivered a comeback that left him speechless.
“We’ll find our funding all right, and while you’re sitting on your lazy ass reading our paper, you can take your cynicism and shove it.”
The group sniggered in response, partly because it was the first time anyone had dared humiliate the pretty boy in public. Everyone watched as Keith rose from his seat, walked all the way around the table, and leaned over to apologize into May’s ear.
“You’re absolutely right. I hope you’ll count me among your very first subscribers.”
On a carpenter’s wages, Keith was barely scraping by and could afford little more than the bare necessities. And yet, he dug into the pocket of his jeans and laid a ten-dollar bill before May. “There, you can put me down for some shares in your paper,” he added before walking straight out of the restaurant, leaving everyone flabbergasted.
May ignored her friends’ looks and darted out onto the dark street after Keith, waving his ten-dollar bill and calling after him.
“Hey! You really think you can become a shareholder just with this? This’ll barely buy you the first few issues.”
“Well, then consider it an advance toward my subscription.”
May watched as Keith continued on his way, and then she stepped back into the restaurant, more resolute than ever. She would show them. First and foremost, she would prove it to herself. She would prove once and for all just how far she was willing to go. While Sally-Anne and May shared the same vision, it was for very different reasons, but their fates were now intimately bound. All that remained was finding the money to make the newspaper a reality, even if no one else would ever want it to see the light of day. That night, neither of them had even the faintest notion that bringing their dream to life would hinge upon a sinister crime.
May tried to chase away the memories of the wild drunken night that started everything. She wrapped the bedsheet around her shoulders and turned away. Sally-Anne moved in bed beside her and held her close as she drifted off to sleep.
9
ELEANOR-RIGBY
October 2016, Croydon
Maggie turned the key and found the flat door unlocked. As she opened the door, she could imagine a burglar already inside, pilfering away. She couldn’t count how many times she had begged her father to lock his front door when he went out, only to receive the same stock response every time: he had been living there forever and never had any issues.
She hung her coat on a hook and moved down the hall, completely writing off the kitchen; Mum would never choose her husband’s favorite room as a hiding place. The task was so daunting, Maggie had to cut corners. Why waste time on something so pointless? It was a lost cause from the start. But, no matter. Best to tackle the master bedroom, then the bathroom and toilet—or maybe start with the loo, in the hope of finding a secret compartment or a trapdoor. She decided to leave the front door unlocked. All her father would do if he found her sneaking about would be to pat her on the shoulder, smile, and say, “Always expecting the worst, Maggie! Why snoop around when you could just ask?”