A Peak at the First Chapter of And Then It Was You...
“You are a complete and utter ass!” Sydney smashed her purse on the table, shaking the ice in the water glasses. These over-the-top dramatics were exactly why, after almost two years together, Austin Seabrooke was breaking things off with the fiery brunette. She was beautiful, and very fun in bed, but her temper tantrums were quickly becoming tiresome.
“I can’t believe you wasted two years of my life! I could have gotten married! I could be well on my way to the rest of my life.” Crocodile tears welled in her eyes, her mouth sliding into a pout. “I thought this was the real thing! We would have had the most beautiful wedding! Every magazine would have covered it! Think of how beautiful I will be as a bride. Our families mesh perfectly together!”
She wasn’t lying on that. Austin was the oldest son of news tycoon Rick Seabrooke, the media giant of the Midwest, and Sydney’s parents ran a multi-billion-dollar real estate empire based in Chicago, but with offices across the United States, Europe, and Canada. They had run in the same circles their entire lives. Austin was surprised they hadn’t dated when they were in high school, when dramatics were normal and expected. Sydney had the traits of a perfectly, insane high school girlfriend: obsessive, overly affectionate, wont to cry at the drop of a hat. And her preferred way of solving an argument was to have sex, and then do whatever she wanted to do in the first place.
“I’m sorry you feel that I-” he began, before noticing a flash out of the corner of his eye.
Damn, Austin thought, a paparazzi found us. He had taken all the normal precautions; Sydney entered separately, he came in through the back, they were seated in a private booth at Quartino, one of the most discreet places he knew. He had never worried about the paparazzi until he came home from college. Then, he was suddenly in the spotlight. He was in his twenties, set to fall backwards into an awful lot of money, and his looks didn’t hurt. Austin’s blonde hair, green eyes, and strong jawline made him a perfect choice for rag-mags trying to make a buck, or gossip bloggers looking for a jump in traffic.
“Sydney, the gutter rats are here,” he threw his head in the direction of the flash. “I need to leave.”
“Leave? LEAVE! You are going to break up with me and just leave? I have never been so insulted in my life-” She continued, but Austin stood up, put cash on the table, and fled through the kitchens.
He supposed a member of the staff could have called the paparazzi for a few bucks, but Sydney’s track record on these things was not great. Six months earlier, they had taken a trip to Barcelona, and when they arrived, paparazzi greeted them at the airport. While Austin was somewhat of a local celebrity in Chicago, and a few people would recognize him within his own country, he was not so wealthy that Spanish tabloids were interested in his comings and goings. They saw the paparazzi on six different occasions during that trip, every time they went to a restaurant or left the privacy of the hotel grounds. Though she denied it, he was convinced Sydney had been the true culprit, looking to boost her “rich and famous” lifestyle traffic.
He had his driver, Max, waiting out back for him with the car already running. Austin had been considering breaking things off for weeks, but when she began droning on about how they simply needed to buy a place on Lake Como as soon as he sat down to lunch, he texted Max and told him to be ready with the car. While Sydney’s passion had originally drawn him to her, after a few months the constant screaming, crying, and then flipping to head over heels in love with him was draining. Even the silent treatments became unbearable. While every man wanted a woman to be passionate in their relationship, passionate in every aspect of life is exhausting. Especially when that passion often turns to anger very easily.
“Let’s get out of here,” Austin exclaimed, climbing into the backseat. “The paparazzi found us.”
“In a jiffy,” Max responded, pulling quickly down a succession of alleys before merging onto State Street. “Where would you like me to take you?”
“Out of the city. I need a break from the pictures. And the inevitable gossip to follow.”
Sydney was a press-hound. He was sure she would be giving an interview right now. And the paparazzi princess would never be painted in a bad light. He would take the brunt of the criticism. He was sure by tonight there would be a myriad of articles hounding him as a villain who preyed on Sweet Sydney.
“I’ll text my mom. I think a few days at Pebble Outlook would make a world of difference.”
Fifteen miles north of downtown Chicago, and a world away, Austin’s parents’ estate, Pebble Outlook, perched over the shores of Lake Michigan. The sprawling ten-acre piece of property held everything the family could ever need: a private beach, an Olympic-sized pool with a retractable roof, two tennis courts, a separate greenhouse, an English style garden with a labyrinth, and an enormous lawn perfect for entertaining, which they did often. Still, the twenty-thousand square foot house Austin had grown up in managed to be cozy in all its grandeur. Millie Seabrooke, Austin’s mother, made it a point to keep the house from feeling too much like a museum. While the house boasted a formal dining room with a table that seated thirty, it also had a smaller dining nook off the kitchen where the family took the majority of their meals. There was a library, a ballroom, even a gallery with some of the family’s favorite pieces of art they had purchased through the years. But there was also a small family room, with comfortable couches and blankets piled high for family movie nights when they were younger. They had manicured rose gardens, but also a yard that was a mess with sports equipment and ride-on toys when the siblings were wild children. His childhood room was filled with things normal kids had: stuffed animals, Cubs’, Hawks’, and Bulls’ posters, bunk beds. Pebble Outlook was different, though. When he went into his basement, a gym, complete with basketball court, pitching net, and dance studio for his younger sister, awaited.
At twenty-seven, Austin rarely stayed at his parents’ house for more than a night or two around Christmas. He had the bonus of a designated driver after every party, who would see him home safely. But, every once in a while, especially when the tabloids got going, he just needed to escape. He had to get out of the city, away from the constant bright lights and loud people. He needed Pebble Outlook.
Max pulled the black SUV up to the gate and waved to Thom, the security guard. Both men had worked for the family for north of ten years. Max was Austin’s bodyguard when he studied at Princeton, and they had gotten along so well, he stayed on as his driver once he was back in Illinois. He drove down the gravel drive past rows of cherry blossom trees about to burst into their spring colors. Austin’s only sister, and youngest of the four Seabrooke children, sat on the front brick steps with her arms crossed over her knees. She was the only sibling currently living at home and was always glad to have a brother home to shift the overbearing focus of their parents, now that she was an “only” child.
Lydia Seabrooke had the same wavy honey blonde hair as her three brothers, but while the boys kept theirs cropped close to their heads to hide the waves, Lydia rocked elbow-length tresses. She was finishing up her senior year of high school, and ready to spring from the nest in the fall when she attended Brown University.
“Mom said you texted her and you needed a break from the city,” Lydia began the moment Austin opened his door. “Hi, Max. And you don’t have a bag? What happened that you needed to get out of there so immediately? Did you commit some sort of unforgivable social faux-pas?” Lydia liked to tease her brother about his constant appearances in the tabloids. Living outside the city and being underage made her a much smaller target for their fodder. She was also a straight arrow. Lydia Seabrooke wasn’t a terribly interesting seventeen-year-old.
“I broke up with Sydney not realizing we were surrounded by paparazzi,” he admitted.
“Ooohh, bad move, bro. Whelp, Mom is making chicken pot pie to cheer you up. You staying a while?”
“At least a couple nights. I have to wait until Sydney calms down a bit so the tabloids will too.”
“I’m sure little miss crazy is going to have a field day dragging you through the mud.” Lydia had never liked Sydney and never hid the fact from her older brother. “Is she going to trash your place?”
“I changed the locks yesterday.” He smirked. When Sydney told him she loved him after two dates and he paused in saying it back, she had broken a mirror and two lamps the next day. He had learned.
“Smart man.”
Once inside, Lydia went to finish her homework. Even though second semester grades didn’t really matter, she was a driven student and aiming to make the Dean’s List once again. Austin wandered to his bedroom to relax for a bit. His room had been renovated from childhood, and now met the needs of a twenty-something bachelor. Instead of bunk beds, he had a king-sized bed and tasteful nightstands. The posters were replaced with a TV, and his parents took the lock off the door to his balcony. Austin kicked off his shoes and grabbed a pair of flannel pants out of his drawer. He collapsed onto his bed with a huff.
Besides Austin and Lydia, there were two other Seabrooke children, that landed between them. Colt was two years younger than Austin, and Lincoln a senior in college. They always teased Lydia that she was an accident, born another four years later, but their mother insisted that after three boys, she needed a breather before another child.
Colt was a world traveler, content to wander the globe collecting new experiences. Lincoln was the exact opposite. He was like a safe harbor in a storm, always had a solution to a problem, and a steady hand whenever anyone needed him. Austin missed his middle brother, and looked forward to him moving home after college.
As the oldest, Austin always felt it was up to him to set a good example to his younger siblings. He didn’t want the paparazzi airing his dirty laundry to the public, but he really didn’t want his siblings seeing the mistakes he had made over the years. Sydney was fun, but was fun worth it? It was high time he found a woman that he could seriously date. He wasn’t looking for a wife, but he knew it was time to look for something other than a good time.
*
Lexi Moore stepped off a plane into the completely overwhelming O’Hare Airport. Compared to the tiny runway and one gate at North Platte airport in Nebraska, O’Hare seemed like a different country. She got a little lost and ended up wandering through a tunnel of moving walkways surrounded by neon lights flashing like she had ended up on Mars, and not just a few states away. After finding a friendly inhabitant of an information desk, she was given a map of the airport that was immensely helpful. She wove her way through fast-paced passersby, eventually finding baggage claim and a sign reading “ALEXANDRA MOORE.” She struggled with her bags, shook hands with her driver, and exhaled sharply when she got in the back of the car. She had arrived. No looking back now.
Lexi was born in Nebraska. She grew up in Nebraska. She went to college on a full-ride to University of Nebraska. She double-majored in political science and journalism, hoping to work for The Omaha World-Herald as a political reporter. And she did just that. With impressive grades, an internship for a local community paper, and four years under her belt at her school’s Daily Nebraskan, she was an ideal candidate for the paper. For the past five years, she had toiled away at The Omaha World-Herald, writing pieces on local elections, gubernatorial races, and even covered Presidential tours. She quickly rose to the top of her team, until there was nowhere for her to go without her supervisor leaving.
And then, she went viral. Or rather, a story she wrote about the current president’s scandal went viral. Within two months, she had offers from newspapers all over the country. She thought long and hard about it, and, ready to leave Nebraska, decided to take one. She picked The Chicago Times because she could not imagine leaving the Midwest, and it was much closer than either coast. She also had one friend from college, Susie, who moved to Chicago a couple years ago, so she at least knew one person.
She had one night to get settled before her job started tomorrow, Wednesday, and then on Friday afternoon she was attending a garden party hosted by the newspaper’s owner. She did not have the faintest idea what to wear to a garden party, but Susie promised to take her shopping on Wells Street to find something just right. Now that she was working for a big-name, still profitable paper, she had gotten a significant pay raise and could afford a garden dress, whatever that was. Her current uniform had been sweaters, khakis, and jeans forty hours a week, with sweatpants and old college shirts rounding out the rest of her time. She was ready for a wardrobe upgrade.
The car was hired to take her to her new apartment, which she had leased unseen. It was in the Old Town neighborhood; Susie had assured her it was a safe place to live and close to work and public transportation. She had rented a pre-furnished place, knowing that she wouldn’t have much time to pick anything out, and only brought one suitcase with her. She had shipped a few things that would be arriving in the next few days, to make the place feel more like home.
The car parked in front of a red-brick six flat and, in a moment, she was alone with her suitcase in front of her new house. She picked up her bag, and began the long trek up to the top floor. After a particularly nerve-wracking day, she was happy to find her apartment exactly as the pictures looked. The pristine white kitchen had all new appliances and the couches in the living area were clean and comfortable. The bedroom had a queen-sized bed, dresser, and nightstand, as well as ample closet space. Best of all, the bathroom boasted a soaking tub, which she immediately started filling up. Next, she got out her sheets and blanket and made up the bed. Her grandmother had always said whenever you move, to get your bed ready first. That way you aren’t trying to put a comfortable place to sleep together when you are exhausted from traveling and unpacking. Lexi switched off her phone and peeled off her airport clothes. She spent the rest of her first evening in Chicago enjoying a bath, eating pizza, and falling asleep around 8:45 PM. She slept soundly, knowing that there were hundreds of miles between her and Omaha. Chicago would be a new chapter, a fresh start. She could leave behind everything that needed to be left, the anxious feelings, the fear of who might be lurking around the corner, and look to the future.
The first day of a new job is never easy. The first day of a new job in a new city in a building taller than anything you’ve ever seen is downright intimidating. Lexi stood on the corner of Jackson and Dearborn, staring up at her new place of work, quickly getting dizzy. After growing up in Merton, Nebraska, barely a smudge on the map, Lincoln had seemed enormous when she went to college. Then, moving to Omaha was a shock. Now, Chicago was downright overwhelming. She shook her head, and walked into the lobby.
After passing through security and riding the elevator up to the fifty-second floor, Lexi finally reached her new office. It was easily four times the size of the entire Omaha World-Herald, and this was only the political division. She walked in like a wide-eyed deer, completely dumbfounded. She was going to work here? She knew it was going to be big, but this was insane.
“Alexandra?” An older man asked, offering his hand out. He wore a simple knit vest and had wire-rimmed glasses.
“Yes, Lexi.” She shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Paul, managing editor. I’ll show you your space and give you your first stories.” He immediately started walking quickly, Lexi shuffling behind him.
The office was typical, with rows and rows of cubicles full of people on the phone, typing, researching. There were large whiteboards with names of projects and people next to them. A few TVs were on and tuned to twenty-four-hour news programs. It was a lively newsroom.
“Here’s your space, I hope it’s up to your standards.”
Her cubicle was sparse with only a computer, printer, and bulletin board.
“It’s perfect.” She gushed. Lexi was one for a clean workspace. While her colleagues in the past had subscribed to the messy desks for creative minds philosophy, she preferred to do her writing and research somewhere she could find a pen.
“Great. Go ahead and get settled. Tim from IT set up all your logins; he’ll be over in a bit to get you into the system. We have a staff meeting at 10 to distribute candidates to cover for the next term.”
They were one year away from midterm elections, and Illinois had four seats in the House up, one Senate seat, plus fifteen seats of the state Senate, and they would be electing a new governor, as the current one was retiring from political office. Lexi had spent the last two weeks researching each of these candidates in every free moment she had, preparing for whoever she might be assigned. She was prepared. This was her Oscars. She was going to show them what a girl from Nebraska could do with an inquiring mind, political drive, and a deep need to deliver the news to the public. It was set to be a whirlwind year.
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“I can’t believe you wasted two years of my life! I could have gotten married! I could be well on my way to the rest of my life.” Crocodile tears welled in her eyes, her mouth sliding into a pout. “I thought this was the real thing! We would have had the most beautiful wedding! Every magazine would have covered it! Think of how beautiful I will be as a bride. Our families mesh perfectly together!”
She wasn’t lying on that. Austin was the oldest son of news tycoon Rick Seabrooke, the media giant of the Midwest, and Sydney’s parents ran a multi-billion-dollar real estate empire based in Chicago, but with offices across the United States, Europe, and Canada. They had run in the same circles their entire lives. Austin was surprised they hadn’t dated when they were in high school, when dramatics were normal and expected. Sydney had the traits of a perfectly, insane high school girlfriend: obsessive, overly affectionate, wont to cry at the drop of a hat. And her preferred way of solving an argument was to have sex, and then do whatever she wanted to do in the first place.
“I’m sorry you feel that I-” he began, before noticing a flash out of the corner of his eye.
Damn, Austin thought, a paparazzi found us. He had taken all the normal precautions; Sydney entered separately, he came in through the back, they were seated in a private booth at Quartino, one of the most discreet places he knew. He had never worried about the paparazzi until he came home from college. Then, he was suddenly in the spotlight. He was in his twenties, set to fall backwards into an awful lot of money, and his looks didn’t hurt. Austin’s blonde hair, green eyes, and strong jawline made him a perfect choice for rag-mags trying to make a buck, or gossip bloggers looking for a jump in traffic.
“Sydney, the gutter rats are here,” he threw his head in the direction of the flash. “I need to leave.”
“Leave? LEAVE! You are going to break up with me and just leave? I have never been so insulted in my life-” She continued, but Austin stood up, put cash on the table, and fled through the kitchens.
He supposed a member of the staff could have called the paparazzi for a few bucks, but Sydney’s track record on these things was not great. Six months earlier, they had taken a trip to Barcelona, and when they arrived, paparazzi greeted them at the airport. While Austin was somewhat of a local celebrity in Chicago, and a few people would recognize him within his own country, he was not so wealthy that Spanish tabloids were interested in his comings and goings. They saw the paparazzi on six different occasions during that trip, every time they went to a restaurant or left the privacy of the hotel grounds. Though she denied it, he was convinced Sydney had been the true culprit, looking to boost her “rich and famous” lifestyle traffic.
He had his driver, Max, waiting out back for him with the car already running. Austin had been considering breaking things off for weeks, but when she began droning on about how they simply needed to buy a place on Lake Como as soon as he sat down to lunch, he texted Max and told him to be ready with the car. While Sydney’s passion had originally drawn him to her, after a few months the constant screaming, crying, and then flipping to head over heels in love with him was draining. Even the silent treatments became unbearable. While every man wanted a woman to be passionate in their relationship, passionate in every aspect of life is exhausting. Especially when that passion often turns to anger very easily.
“Let’s get out of here,” Austin exclaimed, climbing into the backseat. “The paparazzi found us.”
“In a jiffy,” Max responded, pulling quickly down a succession of alleys before merging onto State Street. “Where would you like me to take you?”
“Out of the city. I need a break from the pictures. And the inevitable gossip to follow.”
Sydney was a press-hound. He was sure she would be giving an interview right now. And the paparazzi princess would never be painted in a bad light. He would take the brunt of the criticism. He was sure by tonight there would be a myriad of articles hounding him as a villain who preyed on Sweet Sydney.
“I’ll text my mom. I think a few days at Pebble Outlook would make a world of difference.”
Fifteen miles north of downtown Chicago, and a world away, Austin’s parents’ estate, Pebble Outlook, perched over the shores of Lake Michigan. The sprawling ten-acre piece of property held everything the family could ever need: a private beach, an Olympic-sized pool with a retractable roof, two tennis courts, a separate greenhouse, an English style garden with a labyrinth, and an enormous lawn perfect for entertaining, which they did often. Still, the twenty-thousand square foot house Austin had grown up in managed to be cozy in all its grandeur. Millie Seabrooke, Austin’s mother, made it a point to keep the house from feeling too much like a museum. While the house boasted a formal dining room with a table that seated thirty, it also had a smaller dining nook off the kitchen where the family took the majority of their meals. There was a library, a ballroom, even a gallery with some of the family’s favorite pieces of art they had purchased through the years. But there was also a small family room, with comfortable couches and blankets piled high for family movie nights when they were younger. They had manicured rose gardens, but also a yard that was a mess with sports equipment and ride-on toys when the siblings were wild children. His childhood room was filled with things normal kids had: stuffed animals, Cubs’, Hawks’, and Bulls’ posters, bunk beds. Pebble Outlook was different, though. When he went into his basement, a gym, complete with basketball court, pitching net, and dance studio for his younger sister, awaited.
At twenty-seven, Austin rarely stayed at his parents’ house for more than a night or two around Christmas. He had the bonus of a designated driver after every party, who would see him home safely. But, every once in a while, especially when the tabloids got going, he just needed to escape. He had to get out of the city, away from the constant bright lights and loud people. He needed Pebble Outlook.
Max pulled the black SUV up to the gate and waved to Thom, the security guard. Both men had worked for the family for north of ten years. Max was Austin’s bodyguard when he studied at Princeton, and they had gotten along so well, he stayed on as his driver once he was back in Illinois. He drove down the gravel drive past rows of cherry blossom trees about to burst into their spring colors. Austin’s only sister, and youngest of the four Seabrooke children, sat on the front brick steps with her arms crossed over her knees. She was the only sibling currently living at home and was always glad to have a brother home to shift the overbearing focus of their parents, now that she was an “only” child.
Lydia Seabrooke had the same wavy honey blonde hair as her three brothers, but while the boys kept theirs cropped close to their heads to hide the waves, Lydia rocked elbow-length tresses. She was finishing up her senior year of high school, and ready to spring from the nest in the fall when she attended Brown University.
“Mom said you texted her and you needed a break from the city,” Lydia began the moment Austin opened his door. “Hi, Max. And you don’t have a bag? What happened that you needed to get out of there so immediately? Did you commit some sort of unforgivable social faux-pas?” Lydia liked to tease her brother about his constant appearances in the tabloids. Living outside the city and being underage made her a much smaller target for their fodder. She was also a straight arrow. Lydia Seabrooke wasn’t a terribly interesting seventeen-year-old.
“I broke up with Sydney not realizing we were surrounded by paparazzi,” he admitted.
“Ooohh, bad move, bro. Whelp, Mom is making chicken pot pie to cheer you up. You staying a while?”
“At least a couple nights. I have to wait until Sydney calms down a bit so the tabloids will too.”
“I’m sure little miss crazy is going to have a field day dragging you through the mud.” Lydia had never liked Sydney and never hid the fact from her older brother. “Is she going to trash your place?”
“I changed the locks yesterday.” He smirked. When Sydney told him she loved him after two dates and he paused in saying it back, she had broken a mirror and two lamps the next day. He had learned.
“Smart man.”
Once inside, Lydia went to finish her homework. Even though second semester grades didn’t really matter, she was a driven student and aiming to make the Dean’s List once again. Austin wandered to his bedroom to relax for a bit. His room had been renovated from childhood, and now met the needs of a twenty-something bachelor. Instead of bunk beds, he had a king-sized bed and tasteful nightstands. The posters were replaced with a TV, and his parents took the lock off the door to his balcony. Austin kicked off his shoes and grabbed a pair of flannel pants out of his drawer. He collapsed onto his bed with a huff.
Besides Austin and Lydia, there were two other Seabrooke children, that landed between them. Colt was two years younger than Austin, and Lincoln a senior in college. They always teased Lydia that she was an accident, born another four years later, but their mother insisted that after three boys, she needed a breather before another child.
Colt was a world traveler, content to wander the globe collecting new experiences. Lincoln was the exact opposite. He was like a safe harbor in a storm, always had a solution to a problem, and a steady hand whenever anyone needed him. Austin missed his middle brother, and looked forward to him moving home after college.
As the oldest, Austin always felt it was up to him to set a good example to his younger siblings. He didn’t want the paparazzi airing his dirty laundry to the public, but he really didn’t want his siblings seeing the mistakes he had made over the years. Sydney was fun, but was fun worth it? It was high time he found a woman that he could seriously date. He wasn’t looking for a wife, but he knew it was time to look for something other than a good time.
*
Lexi Moore stepped off a plane into the completely overwhelming O’Hare Airport. Compared to the tiny runway and one gate at North Platte airport in Nebraska, O’Hare seemed like a different country. She got a little lost and ended up wandering through a tunnel of moving walkways surrounded by neon lights flashing like she had ended up on Mars, and not just a few states away. After finding a friendly inhabitant of an information desk, she was given a map of the airport that was immensely helpful. She wove her way through fast-paced passersby, eventually finding baggage claim and a sign reading “ALEXANDRA MOORE.” She struggled with her bags, shook hands with her driver, and exhaled sharply when she got in the back of the car. She had arrived. No looking back now.
Lexi was born in Nebraska. She grew up in Nebraska. She went to college on a full-ride to University of Nebraska. She double-majored in political science and journalism, hoping to work for The Omaha World-Herald as a political reporter. And she did just that. With impressive grades, an internship for a local community paper, and four years under her belt at her school’s Daily Nebraskan, she was an ideal candidate for the paper. For the past five years, she had toiled away at The Omaha World-Herald, writing pieces on local elections, gubernatorial races, and even covered Presidential tours. She quickly rose to the top of her team, until there was nowhere for her to go without her supervisor leaving.
And then, she went viral. Or rather, a story she wrote about the current president’s scandal went viral. Within two months, she had offers from newspapers all over the country. She thought long and hard about it, and, ready to leave Nebraska, decided to take one. She picked The Chicago Times because she could not imagine leaving the Midwest, and it was much closer than either coast. She also had one friend from college, Susie, who moved to Chicago a couple years ago, so she at least knew one person.
She had one night to get settled before her job started tomorrow, Wednesday, and then on Friday afternoon she was attending a garden party hosted by the newspaper’s owner. She did not have the faintest idea what to wear to a garden party, but Susie promised to take her shopping on Wells Street to find something just right. Now that she was working for a big-name, still profitable paper, she had gotten a significant pay raise and could afford a garden dress, whatever that was. Her current uniform had been sweaters, khakis, and jeans forty hours a week, with sweatpants and old college shirts rounding out the rest of her time. She was ready for a wardrobe upgrade.
The car was hired to take her to her new apartment, which she had leased unseen. It was in the Old Town neighborhood; Susie had assured her it was a safe place to live and close to work and public transportation. She had rented a pre-furnished place, knowing that she wouldn’t have much time to pick anything out, and only brought one suitcase with her. She had shipped a few things that would be arriving in the next few days, to make the place feel more like home.
The car parked in front of a red-brick six flat and, in a moment, she was alone with her suitcase in front of her new house. She picked up her bag, and began the long trek up to the top floor. After a particularly nerve-wracking day, she was happy to find her apartment exactly as the pictures looked. The pristine white kitchen had all new appliances and the couches in the living area were clean and comfortable. The bedroom had a queen-sized bed, dresser, and nightstand, as well as ample closet space. Best of all, the bathroom boasted a soaking tub, which she immediately started filling up. Next, she got out her sheets and blanket and made up the bed. Her grandmother had always said whenever you move, to get your bed ready first. That way you aren’t trying to put a comfortable place to sleep together when you are exhausted from traveling and unpacking. Lexi switched off her phone and peeled off her airport clothes. She spent the rest of her first evening in Chicago enjoying a bath, eating pizza, and falling asleep around 8:45 PM. She slept soundly, knowing that there were hundreds of miles between her and Omaha. Chicago would be a new chapter, a fresh start. She could leave behind everything that needed to be left, the anxious feelings, the fear of who might be lurking around the corner, and look to the future.
The first day of a new job is never easy. The first day of a new job in a new city in a building taller than anything you’ve ever seen is downright intimidating. Lexi stood on the corner of Jackson and Dearborn, staring up at her new place of work, quickly getting dizzy. After growing up in Merton, Nebraska, barely a smudge on the map, Lincoln had seemed enormous when she went to college. Then, moving to Omaha was a shock. Now, Chicago was downright overwhelming. She shook her head, and walked into the lobby.
After passing through security and riding the elevator up to the fifty-second floor, Lexi finally reached her new office. It was easily four times the size of the entire Omaha World-Herald, and this was only the political division. She walked in like a wide-eyed deer, completely dumbfounded. She was going to work here? She knew it was going to be big, but this was insane.
“Alexandra?” An older man asked, offering his hand out. He wore a simple knit vest and had wire-rimmed glasses.
“Yes, Lexi.” She shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Paul, managing editor. I’ll show you your space and give you your first stories.” He immediately started walking quickly, Lexi shuffling behind him.
The office was typical, with rows and rows of cubicles full of people on the phone, typing, researching. There were large whiteboards with names of projects and people next to them. A few TVs were on and tuned to twenty-four-hour news programs. It was a lively newsroom.
“Here’s your space, I hope it’s up to your standards.”
Her cubicle was sparse with only a computer, printer, and bulletin board.
“It’s perfect.” She gushed. Lexi was one for a clean workspace. While her colleagues in the past had subscribed to the messy desks for creative minds philosophy, she preferred to do her writing and research somewhere she could find a pen.
“Great. Go ahead and get settled. Tim from IT set up all your logins; he’ll be over in a bit to get you into the system. We have a staff meeting at 10 to distribute candidates to cover for the next term.”
They were one year away from midterm elections, and Illinois had four seats in the House up, one Senate seat, plus fifteen seats of the state Senate, and they would be electing a new governor, as the current one was retiring from political office. Lexi had spent the last two weeks researching each of these candidates in every free moment she had, preparing for whoever she might be assigned. She was prepared. This was her Oscars. She was going to show them what a girl from Nebraska could do with an inquiring mind, political drive, and a deep need to deliver the news to the public. It was set to be a whirlwind year.
Like what you've read? Pick up a copy here!