Part 6: Workload

“After pulling the stray cat from the river, Roscoe went from rescue dog to rescuer dog.”

Amina absentmindedly stared at the sentence on her screen for a solid twenty minutes. She'd slapped down some half-hearted attempt at her article just to get it over with. After reading through it several times she felt just as ambivalent as she had before she began. It didn’t help that her mind was distracted. Around her the sounds of real progress were being made. She could hear the other staff members in various conversations and calls. Each person seemed to have a more interesting topic than her. She could feel her coworker’s excitement as the sound of their fingers furiously tapping away at their keyboards almost harmonized with each other. Amina signed and turned her lazy gaze back to her own screen. As she stared at the monitor her indifference slowly shifted to irritation.

“If I have to write garbage at least it should be polished garbage,” she mumbled as she erased the closing paragraph. She rewrote it over and over trying to find some way to turn her literal fluff piece into a respectable piece of journalism. After twelve attempts, however, she began to feel like salvaging this article was more trouble than it was worth.

“You know," a cheerful voice chimed in from behind her. "Einstein said the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”

An involuntary groan escaped Amina's lips as she knew exactly who was putting their two cents in.

“Mind your own business, Beverly,” Amina replied. “If I wanted some half-baked advice I’d order Chinese and pop open a fortune cookie.”

Beverly soft laughed and lifted her mug to take a sip of her coffee. The taller woman's long blonde hair partially covered her face down to her oversized white sweater. Her top hung loose off her thin body, flowing over the waistband of her equally ill-fitting mocha pants. Beverly always looked like she bought clothes one size too large on purpose. Between that and her hair, she seemed to almost disappear into a space. Amina suspected it was how the busy body was able to always sneak up on her so easily.

“By the way,” Amina continued as she turned back to her computer, “Einstein never said that. I shouldn’t be surprised you’d think he did, though… since you’re an idiot.”

Unfazed and used to Amina’s attitude, Beverly simply swiped her blonde hair out of her face with another light chuckle. She then leaned to the side so she could have a better view of the reporter’s monitor. As her blue eyes darted across a few sentences, her face lit up.

“Aaaaww! You got the dog rescue piece?!” Beverly said with a big grin. “Lucky! I bet it'll get tons of clicks! People love cute animals!”

Amina let out a grumble and minimized the document. Before she could formulate a good jab in response, Beverly made herself comfortable and sat against the edge of the reporter's desk. Her short attention span was already elsewhere as she fiddled with the various figures Amina had sitting around for decoration. After snatching away a small dinosaur from the blonde nuisance, Amina let out a long sigh. 

“Bev, you might take the prize for being the most annoying person I know, but when you’re right, you’re right. I feel like such a sell out writing low hanging crap like this,” Amina said with exasperation as she set her figure back where it belonged. “You know all about being a sell out, right? Don't you have some glorified ad to go fart out?”

“First of all, it’s called “sponsored content,” Beverly replied matter-of-factly. “Second of all, don’t be so salty all the time. You’d probably get a little more freedom if you were nicer and just did your assignments. Everyone knows you're Peter’s favorite.”

“That’s bullshit,” Amina fired back, “I give that man ulcers. Besides, I’d rather be a pain in the ass than a kiss ass. Not like I need your advice anyway. Your stuff is just slock companies pay for to make themselves look good.”

Beverly just shrugged in response, “Sure, it’s biased but the paper has to make money, Ami. Otherwise how would we pay for your hard hitting puppy rescue articles? I know it kinda sucks, but this is a business. Businesses have to make money.”

Before Amina could argue, the door to the editor’s office swung open. Peter stomped out and trudged over to the coffee machine. He began to pour the entire contents of the pot into a large tumbler as he grumbled to himself. It wasn’t unusual for the editor to grab everyone’s attention effortlessly like that. Whenever he made the rare venture out of his office, everyone tended to shape up. It wasn't the same in his office. Behind his desk he wasn't intimidating at all. He often sat slumped with the lights low and curtains drawn. The dark atmosphere seemed made him seem smaller. In the light of day, however, it was clear that it was just an illusion. The man was well over six feet tall and even though he was on the chunkier side, he was definitely imposing. His muscular arms stretched the fabric of his dress shirt and his large fingers threatened to crush the tumbler in his grip. His intense appearance was made even more intimidating by the commanding voice he tended to use as a deadline approached. When Peter finally turned toward the bullpen everyone was looking in his direction except Amina, who was using the brief quiet to read over her closing paragraph again. 

“Ami! Dog story! Is it done?!” Peter barked out, breaking the silence of the room. “You’re holding us up here! It shouldn’t take all day!”

Amina grumbled as she leaned over her keyboard in disgust, “Go take your blood pressure medicine, Pete. I’m sending it to you now.”

“Great, finally!” Peter replied, satisfied, as he stomped back to his office. “That damn thing should have been in the last edition. Don’t drag your ass on your assignments again or it’s listicles for you. I’m serious this time!” 

Amina didn’t respond to the threat since it wasn’t the first time it had been the last time. Beverly, still leaning on the desk and possibly feeling left out, called to Peter to catch his attention.

“I sent you my piece too earlier, just so you know!’ she said happily, “I'm almost done with the one for the next edition too! You know how I like to stay ahead of the game!”

“Good, thanks, Bev,” the exhausted editor replied as he stood at his door and rubbed his eyes. “I know I don’t have to worry about you getting your stuff in. I’ll read yours after Ami’s. I’m sure it’s fine.”

Beverly almost seemed to vibrate with joy after the slight bit of recognition. Even though her giddiness didn’t exactly spread to Amina, it did to her desk causing the entire piece of furniture to shake. Amina quickly grabbed her own coffee before it spilled then turned her chair to face the happy blonde intruder.

“Wow. I guess if you kiss enough ass it just gets easier and easier, huh?” Amina harshly mused aloud. “You should go wash your face. You have a little something on your nose.”

Seemingly hurt by the statement, Beverly cradled her cup of coffee as if to protect it from the frigid rebuff. Without responding, she got up to leave, but only made it a few steps before her own nature got the better of her. Most people would have taken the hint and just left, but Beverly wasn’t like that. She didn’t take hints no matter how obvious.

“Why don’t you like me?” she asked, genuinely upset. “Everyone else here likes me.” 

Amina leaned back slowly in her chair but didn’t say a word. Instead the reporter decided to let her expression of indifference speak for her. After all, she didn’t want to say something that would get her in more trouble with Peter. Unfortunately, Beverly just stood staring back, patiently waiting for her response. Other members of the Jersey Press walked by in silence as they observed what appeared to be the most tense staring contest any of them had ever witnessed. Some staff even opted to take their lunch immediately so they could escape the room.

“Look, I’m only here for a few more hours,” Amina said after it became obvious that Beverly wasn't taking this hint either. “There’s not enough time for me to go through everything. Should I just hit the highlights or can we push this off to tomorrow so I have time to whip up a slideshow?” 

“I’m serious, Ami,” Beverly replied as she rolled a chair over. “Let’s talk it out. I believe having an open dialogue is very important for any relationship, even a working one.”

“Well great, now I have another slide I'm gonna have to put in,” Amina joked as her phone buzzed on her desk. She turned away for a little privacy and checked the text, “Hold that thought, I need to check this.”

“Hey, it’s E, " the text read. "Made it to your place. F is fine, just didn’t charge her phone. I’m punishing her by making her watch “The Thing” with me. It’s hilarious. I’ll hang here til you get back.”

Amina sighed in relief as she finished reading the message. She’d been worried about Four being alone all day, but now that Erving was there she felt a lot better. She wasn’t sure the movie choice was the best thing for the chimera given her jumpy nature, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. Unable to contain her general nosey-ness, Beverly slowly peeked over Amina’s shoulder while the reporter typed a quick response, warning “E” that “F” should wear her mitts if they’re going to watch something scary.

“Look at you… talking to somebody in code,” Beverly chuckled, “Who are E and F? Do you have a secret family I don’t know about?”

“You really are determined to make that slideshow the longest one that’s ever existed, aren’t you?” Amina replied as she slid her phone in her coat pocket. She slowly turned her chair to face Beverly and with a deep inhale she pressed the palms of her hands together in front of her lips like she was silently praying for patience. Beverly looked around confused while Amina just sat, motionless, with her eyes closed. The reporter finally released her held breath, calm and ready enough to let her eavesdropper know exactly how she felt. No hints this time, just brutal honesty.

“These old ass computers don’t have the hard drive space to hold the billion terabyte presentation I could make on how much I dislike you,” she said, in a tone so sharp it seemed to cut Beverly to the bone.

It was clear to anyone in the room that Bev got the message, but it was too late to stop the tirade in progress. Amina's attempt at maintain calm faltered almost immediately as more frustration poured from her lips.

“Hey, here's an idea, huh?” Amina said, her face darkening in anger as she stood up and pointed down at her coworker. “How about you drag your sorry ass back to your own desk? Then you can get back to writing the stupid commercials that you unsuccessfully pass off as original human thoughts. At least that way you can continue to pretend to be a journalist instead of bugging a real one. Sound like a good plan? I think so!”

Beverly sunk into her chair like a reprimanded child. Without a word she leaned in her seat and began a slow backwards walk of shame as she rolled her chair away. Amina watched as Bev dramatically kicked her legs, inching the desk chair across the room as slowly as possible. At least now with her assignment complete and Beverly gone, Amina knew she could begin working on her real project for the day. With a dismissive shake of her head, she returned to her own chair.

“Maybe if I can find an obituary or something…” she thought as she plugged in her flash drive, “...maybe I can figure out who Four was before.”

After fast forwarding one of the earliest videos related to subject four, Amina paused on a frame showing the chimera before her surgeries. She took a screenshot as reference and throughout the rest of the day she searched through the paper’s obituaries. Knowing that Four’s supposed death occurred a decade ago helped, but not as much as she’d hoped. She made her way through the slog slowly, skimming each child’s obituary for a picture or other clue that would lead back to her friend. Even the cursory checks began to take their toll on her as each one described someone who had been taken away too soon. She kept going despite her rising gloom and well after her coworkers eventually left for the day.

“I’m glad I’m not the one that has to review these normally,” Amina muttered to herself when she finally took a break. “No wonder Pete’s a mess.”

She sat up in her seat, frustrated, and checked the time on her phone. She had hoped that Four’s family was from the area and maybe put an obituary in the Jersey Press, but it was beginning to look like she’d hit a dead end on this one. She closed her eyes for a moment and rubbed the back of neck. 

“You ok?” a voice boomed from behind her. Amina gasped and almost jumped out of her skin. She turned, panicked, to see Peter put his hands up in surprise.

“Whoa! Easy!” Peter said. “I didn’t mean to scare the crap out of you. I was heading out when I saw you still hanging around. You’re way too jumpy for someone who just came back from a two day vacation. You look like crap too.”

Amina just chuckled as she leaned forward, “Wow, thanks, Pete. Didn’t we already have a conversation about how you shouldn’t talk about how your female employees look?”

“I guess we did,” he admitted as grabbed a chair and rolled it over. “But In the interest of journalistic integrity I felt it was more important to report the facts. What's going on with you, huh? I heard you lay into Bev earlier.”

“I dunno. Maybe that vacation wasn’t long enough,“ Amina said between yawns. “I had to get back at it though since there’s so many breaking stories you need me to write. What’s my next assignment? Reporting on the waste department getting new trash trucks? Some dog running for mayor? Something like that?”

“You're never gonna let that dog story thing go, are you?” Peter laughed.

“Never,” Amina replied, getting a little chuckle out of it herself.

Peter nodded a bit, then looked around the empty bullpen, then back to Amina. With a sigh, he motioned to her computer screen.

“Enough screwing around. So are you gonna tell me why you’re digging into the old obits? You aren’t looking for more people for your Collective thing are you? If you are, I can tell you it doesn’t matter how many dead people you dig up. I’m not running that story.”

“It’s not like that,” Amina replied somberly. “I’m just trying to get someone I know some closure.”

“Oh yea? Is it like some “missing persons” type deal?” Peter asked sincerely. 

“Something like that,” she replied, not wanting to drag him to far into the mix. “There’s this woman who’s family thinks she's dead, but she obviously isn’t. Her death was faked when she was really little and she doesn’t remember much about her past. I was trying to use the obits to backtrack and maybe find her parents for her.”

Peter leaned back in his chair and whistled, “Now that’d be some story if you do actually track ‘em down.”

“It's not about the story. Not this part anyway,” Amina replied, shaking her head. “Besides, it's not my story to tell. If she wants me to after then I will, but for now it’s just a favor.”

They both sat for a few moments while Peter scratched at his cheek. Amina can tell from his body language and the slight nods of his head that he was having a conversation with himself. It's not the first time she'd watched his process, but it didn't make it any less comical.

“Careful old man. You're gonna burn out your gears,” she said with a smirk. “What are you kicking around in there?”

“I was just thinking about how much you’ve grown since you started here,” he replied wistfully. “I remember when you walked in to interview for your internship. I was sitting here in the bullpen. You were quiet but excited and eager to impress everyone back then. Now here you are, chewing out your coworkers and chasing whatever lead strikes your fancy like you own the damn place.”

Amina scowled, “What's wrong, Pete? Having regrets about keeping me on? If you're kicking me to the curb just say so.”

“God, Ami… part of me says I really should," Peter said as his laughter filled the empty room. "I’d be lying if the thought doesn’t cross my mind at least a couple times a month. But then I remember it's kind of my fault you're like this. Maybe I wasn't the best role model.”

Amina smirked at Peter’s nostalgia. It looked to him like she was about to make another one of her bitter sarcastic remarks, but instead her smile faded and she tightened her lips. He watched and solemnly sat up as she began to chew her lip, her eyes starting to glisten.

“I know that look,” he grumbled. It's the same one you had when you told me about that bastard stepdad of yours. It's like that with your friend, huh?”

“Yea, it’s like that,” she replied, the emotion hitching her voice. “You told me… after we talked about it… that being a good journalist was about getting the truth and stopping people like him. You said if people didn't want to hear what I had to say, that it was my job to make sure they listened anyway. You remember that?”

“Of course I remember,” he replied, his brow furrowing. “It’s not the kind of thing someone just forgets.”

“Good,” Amina replied as she pushed past the lump forming in her throat. “Then you know I’m not going to let this go. Even if you don't buy into the Collective stuff… it's the truth and I’m here… making you listen.” She then looked into his eyes, her usual hardened demeanor returning as she pushed her feelings down.

“I need to know you’ll have my back. I need to know you believe in me,” she said.

Peter sighed and then stood up to grab his things. As he put on his coat and looped his bag across his shoulder, he looked down at Amina and saw the same young woman who came to him for help all those years ago. He shook his head and made his way to the stairs.

“Ami,” Peter said, his back to her as he prepared to leave, “I’ve always believed in you and I always will. Do what you need to do… just… lock up on your way out… and don’t stay here too late.”

After he left the building became deathly quiet. Amina kept scrolling through obituaries even after the sun had set. Her phone buzzed a few times. Multiple texts from Erving asking her how much longer she was going to be. To each she simply replied, “A little longer.” She was finally convinced to leave after he bribed her with an offer to order pizza. When Amina rose from her chair, she couldn’t help but wince as her muscles and bones protested from being in the same position for so long. Like Peter had done a few hours earlier, Amina gathered her things and looked around the bullpen one last time. As she made her way to the stairs, the sound of a cabinet closing in the breakroom caught her attention.

“What the… I thought everyone left,” she thought to herself. 

Quietly, she reached into her purse and pulled out her keys, readying the pepper spray attached to the chain. Stealthily, she moved toward the breakroom, holding the spray at eye level. Holding her breath, she reached for the doorknob just as the door swung inward. A started scream caught Amina off guard and she squeezed the trigger of her pepper spray from pure reflex. Beverly dropped her plate of lasagna and screamed again, blinded and in pain.

“What are you doing here, dumbass?! It's almost 8 o’clock!” Amina yelled after managing to grab Beverly’s arm.

“Ami?! I… I work late all… all the time…” Beverly sniffled as Amina dragged her to the sink and forced her head under the running water.

Eventually, the sting of the pepper spray subsided and a very damp Beverly pulled her head out of the sink. Still sniffling, red faced, and soaked, Beverly whimpered as she tried to dry herself with a wad of paper towels. Amina still didn't care for the woman at all, but that didn't stop her from feeling a little bad. 

“What were you even working on?” Amina asked, attempting to at least seem a little cordial given the circumstances. She walked past the piles of paper on the breakroom table and began scooping the inedible lasagna off the floor to dump in the trash.

“I was preparing for an interview…” Beverly replied as she dried her still tearful eyes. “I'm going out to New York in a couple days to get some information on my next sponsored article.”

Amina just rolled her eyes, “I didn't realize you actually talked to people for those. I assumed they just sent you some prewritten trash and then you lazily slapped your name on it.”

“Alright! That is it!” Beverly screamed as she threw her wet paper towel in the sink with a loud smack. “I try to be nice and you always treat me like garbage! You make fun of me constantly! And now you freaking PEPPER SPRAY ME!”

Beverly grabbed a hold of Amina’s coat just as she finished dumping the last of the ruined lasagna in the trash. The reporter was taken by surprise as Beverly spun her around and pulled her close by her coat collar with surprising strength.

“I don’t deserve to be treated like this!” Beverly screamed right into Amina’s face. “I’ve never been anything but nice to you!”

“HEY! Get your damn hands off me!” Amina screamed back. “The pepper spray was an accident! Let me go!” 

“No! You’re going to listen to me for once!” Beverly screeched as she held Amina in place with relative ease. “I don't care if you think you're hot shit! I work just as hard as you do! Harder even! I spend HOURS reading research articles and other medical bullshit! Every SINGLE medication has side effect lists that go on for FREAKING DAYS! You think writing kiddy little pet articles is mind numbing?! Huh?! Try writing article after article about generic fuckin' Viagra!”

Beverly pushed Amina away and started to angrily pace the room, as if years of pent up rage and anguish were going straight to her legs. Amina could only stand slack jawed as Beverly continued to vent her anger.

“You think I want to write about this shit?!” Beverly yelled, her eyes opening impossibly large as her hair seemed to fray and bristle. “Of course I don't! Nobody’s gonna give me a Pulitzer for my rousing piece on some pharmaceutical company’s latest boner pill or… or… how some place will test your shit if you just mail it to ‘em! I didn’t grow up wanting to be this! I’m doing what I have to do to survive here! As if that isn’t the hardest part, I have you coming in here and constantly reminding me of how pointless everything I write is! Thanks for that, by the way! Thanks for constantly reminding me I’m worthless!”

Amina could only stare speechless as Beverly’s fervor started to fade. With a grunt, Bev squeezed the bridge of her nose between her eyes, “Great, now my eyes hurt AND I have a headache.”

As she dug through her purse for some aspirin, Amina can't help but feel a strange mix of shame and begrudging respect. She had Beverly pegged wrong from the start. She’d always assumed Beverly had taken the assignments she did for the easy money, but that wasn't it at all. She just wanted in the door. She was looking for an opportunity the same way Amina was and was doing whatever she needed to do to get there.

“Bev, uh… I'm sorry,” Amina finally admitted as she walked over. “I shouldn't have treated you like that.”

“Yea, no shit,” Beverly replied curtly. “You've been a real bitch and a half.”

“Yep, yep,” Amina agreed, half smiling, “I deserved that. If you want to completely write me off I wouldn't blame you… but how about we start back at square one?”

“Why?” Beverly asked as she eyed Amina, suspiciously. “I thought you hated my guts.”

“I was projecting some things… and I’m starting to think maybe it wasn't ever really about you,” Amina admitted. “It wasn't fair and I take it all back. So what do you say?”

Amina extended her hand, an olive branch she actually hoped Beverly would take. Still cautious, Beverly hesitated. She was seemingly trying to determine if this was some sort of elaborate set up for something. Slowly, she finally took Amina's hand.

“If you really mean it… then fine,” Beverly relented. “I'd be happy to start fresh.”

“Cool, we can talk more tomorrow. I've got some friends waiting on me,” Amina replied with a smile.

“Eh, I'll walk out to the lot with you,” Beverly said as she gathered up her notes from the breakroom table. “I have to go grab something else to eat anyway since my dinner ended up in the trash.” 

As they walked out of the breakroom a sheet of paper blew off of the stack Beverly was carrying. Amina quickly picked up and looked at it, her face contorting in surprise.

“What in the Hell is this?” She said, barely above a whisper.

“It’s just a fact sheet," Beverly replied. "Companies send them along as bullet points they want me to focus on when I write. There were some things on it I needed to ask more about before I can work up my article.” 

“...and who are you interviewing?” Amina asked, her expression getting more serious.

“I dunno. Some corporate spokesperson, why?” Beverly asked, a little confused as to why Amina would even care.

“I’m just really curious,” Amina said as she stared intently down at the fact sheet. The information was mostly irrelevant. The Harris Pharmaceuticals letterhead at the top, however, was far from trivial. As she placed the paper back on the stack in Beverly’s arms, Amina knew her next step. 

“I have an idea. How about if I tag along with you to New York?” Amina asked, downplaying the seriousness of her request. “I owe you a meal, so lunch can be my treat.”

Beverly’s face lit up and she hastily agreed. Amina played the part of interested companion as Bev prattled on about the restaurants they could choose from and all the fun they could have in the city after the interview. She just nodded and laughed along with her new work friend, but the smiles were a mask.

This trip wasn’t just a fun outing to Amina, it was the opportunity she had been waiting for.