selling stories here and there.
“The point is, Lainey, you and I both know that the story the producers presented to the viewing public was not the whole story. If Brad McCabe is the wonderful guy at heart that his family and the entire citizenry of Laramie, Texas, think he is, then other stuff must have happened behind the scenes that maybe only Brad—and the woman he ended up first choosing and then unceremoniously dumping at the end—know about.” She took a sip of water. “And you’ve read the stuff Yvonne Rathbone’s been spouting. That he was a Jekyll and Hyde, her heart was shattered all to pieces…and she will never ever get over what happened in a million years.”
“I saw her on one of the morning news shows, after it happened,” Lainey admitted reluctantly. Yvonne had been crying her eyes out. “She appeared credible.”
Sybil looked cynical. “You and I have both known women who are capable of twisting the truth. It’s up to you to discover what really occurred and write it up, so everyone knows what happened, instead of the lies and the half-truths Yvonne and the producers are putting out. In the meantime, I’ve got some standard contracts and releases for you to sign.”
She handed them over. Lainey perused them while they waited for their dessert and coffee. The documents were fairly straightforward. Until Lainey got to the amount being offered for the article. She glanced up. “You’re willing to pay me five thousand dollars for one three-thousand-word article?”
“If we publish it,” Sybil concurred. “And we won’t publish it unless you can come up with something new, factual and fairly sensational.”
And therein lay the challenge, Lainey thought, as she kept reading the terms of the contract. How could she become friends with the McCabes, while at the same time secretly investigating—for public disclosure—the true character of one of their own? If what she found out flattered—and freed—Brad from this nightmare of bad publicity, she could very well be a hero in their view. But if the worst happened, if Brad actually had been a cad, for absolutely no reason, as his ex alleged, what then? If Lainey were the bearer of news like that, the citizens of Laramie would not be happy with her. And that resentment could prevent Lainey from returning to Laramie—with Petey—to live.
“You’ll notice we have the exclusive right to publish whatever you do find out,” Sybil pointed out.
“As well as make any editorial changes you see fit,” Lainey noted, all of which was standard.
Sybil handed over a pen. “I’ll need you to go ahead and sign this agreement—and then we’ll get down to the brass tacks of what the magazine expects from you on this assignment.”
Lainey complied and Sybil countersigned, then handed a contract to Lainey and slid the other back into her carryall.
“So this is what I am proposing,” Sybil said as they sipped their coffee. “I want you to use your knowledge of Brad and anything else you can find out about him and his family that is not currently known. And then I want you to interview Yvonne Rathbone for the magazine and use that intimate knowledge to try to trip her up, see if you can catch her in some obvious lies. And maybe, just maybe, get her to at least give you a clue, if not an outright confession, about what really happened behind the scenes at Bachelor Bliss. Maybe if you get her to admit enough, you’ll be able to use your desire to clear Brad’s name and rep to get his family to tell you where you can find him for a sit-down interview. That way, he’ll see how much you want to help him, and he will fill in the rest for you.”
Did she want to help him? How could she not? Certainly, she wanted to know the truth of what had happened, and be responsible for getting that truth out for everyone to know! “That’s a lot of ifs,” Lainey said finally.
Sybil dipped her spoon into the raspberry sauce on top of the crème brûlée. “I remember very well how tenacious you are when you’re on a story. I have faith you will be able to get the job done.”
Lainey admitted to herself that she wanted all the answers as much as Sybil did—if not more. Thinking about the task ahead, knowing she was up to the challenge, she savored her chocolate cake. It was time to prove she had what it took to be a reporter, time to build a new life for herself and Petey. “What’s the time frame?”
“You have the rest of this week to prepare and do your digging. I’ve set the interview with Yvonne up for Sunday afternoon. She’s going to be in town this weekend to appear at a charity gig—and she agreed to meet with you and a photographer from the magazine at the Fairmont Dallas, where she’ll be staying. I’ll need the article on her and Brad one week from today.”
Seven days. “That’s not much time.”
“It’s enough for a pro. You’re a pro, Lainey. You know it and I know it. You’ve just been off the job for a while. Now it’s time to get back to the work you were born to do.”
“What if I can’t get Brad to talk to me and tell me his version of events? I mean, it’s been almost three months and he hasn’t told anyone what happened thus far.”
Sybil shrugged. “You’ll still have the article you write about his ex—Yvonne Rathbone—after you interview her. And you can write the article about Brad whether or not he allows you to interview him. That fact alone might induce him to cooperate.” She continued. “And even if it doesn’t, you still have your Laramie connections. You’d be surprised what little tidbits you can pick up here and there when people feel comfortable enough to open up to you. Once compiled, they could make a hell of a story, or at least lend powerful insight to what happened to make Brad change his mind about proposing to Yvonne. I’m counting on your intimate knowledge of the family and the town where he spent his teenage years to give you an edge and an in that no one else has had to date.”
“Because unless there’s something new to be told about the breakup, you don’t want it.”
“Right. No sense in rehashing what has already been said a hundred different ways. That won’t sell magazines. Readers want to know how Brad McCabe could seem so head over heels in love with Yvonne Rathbone one minute, and then treat her like dirt the next.”
It was a puzzle.
Brad was ornery but he didn’t seem cruel. And yet on the show he had abruptly seemed so cold, irrationally angry and bitter. Lainey paused. “Everything you’ve said thus far makes sense.”
“And—?”
“I have to tell you,” Lainey sighed, wishing she didn’t have such a guilty conscience. It would be so much better for her career. “It doesn’t feel right going after the story in such an underhanded manner.” It felt like a betrayal. To herself, to the McCabe family, and especially to the target of her story, Brad McCabe. To the point that at least part of her was already regretting signing that publishing contract.
Sybil studied her. “All I am asking you to do is discover the truth and help Brad McCabe regain his reputation as a good and decent guy.”
If Lainey did that, maybe the brooding look would disappear from Brad’s eyes. Maybe he would regain his innate good cheer and the optimism he’d once had about love and life. Maybe then all the McCabes would rest a little easier. On the other hand, if he didn’t, he could easily end up like her late father—embittered, angry and resentful the rest of his life….
“I’m sure all Brad McCabe needs is a journalist to whom he can tell his side of things and he will open up,” Sybil continued.
But
