BlogSpot: Aliens of New York
By Maddie as Hell
The loneliest place on earth, I think, is the New York subway after midnight. Not just for people like me, finishing their late shifts, who stare with tired, empty eyes out the window, drawing into themselves, tighter and tighter. It’s the others. The people who have nowhere else to be. They are there for the warmth or the escape. See, once you get off a train, you have to have a purpose. A destination. But on a train, you can just sit and contemplate with no pressure to do anything.
Sometimes I think I’ve spent too long just sitting, watching the shadows flash by at speed, not excited to get off and be wherever I’m supposed to be. It’s easy to be a passenger. Life is about purpose, not sitting still. It’s a shock to realise I allowed my whole existence to become something to be watched from a worn-out train seat.
I started really noticing the colours outside last week. When had they become brighter?
And today, I woke up and couldn’t wait to get on with my day. I had a story I was proud of in print, an idea for a follow-up that could make a difference, and someone fascinating who I’m looking forward to seeing again.
I examined myself in the bathroom mirror and didn’t recognise who looked back. I think I’ve been too long riding the rails, watching the world through windows. High time to get off the train.
What are you doing to me, New York? Playing with my affections like this? I may even start liking you if you keep this up.
CHAPTER 9
Collateral Damage
As Maddie dropped her bag at her desk the next day, Lisa bustled up. She nudged her in the ribs and plopped her curvy ass on Maddie’s desk.
“Hey,” the secretary said, “that was a great story this morning. The kid on the drugs charges? It really impressed Dave, and nothing impresses our boss.”
“Cool,” Maddie said with a grin. “I’m glad.”
“I really liked that you started and ended it with the same line—‘Tell Momma I didn’t do it’. It was…artistic.”
Maddie shook her head in disbelief. “Last night someone tried to tell me that the news machine could be beautiful, and today you say my story was artistic.” She laughed. “You’re all mad.”
“Oh, hon, it was classy. I liked it. Take the compliment, okay? Cos you won’t get too many around here.”
“I didn’t do it for the kudos, though. The kid has a college scholarship riding on this. He just needs good lawyer money now.”
“The FundMeNow campaign you mentioned in your article should help.” Lisa nodded. “I chipped in ten bucks this morning.”
“That’s great. He’s a good kid. He’s scared and feels so alone. It took courage for him to speak to me.”
“Dave says the day shift is following it up. There’s talk of an internal investigation into the charges. They look fishy.”
“That’s what I was saying! Way I see it is the drug squad sees Ramel as collateral damage. Like, they’re not stupid, they probably know he didn’t do any of it, but they’re just letting his buddies go free so they relax and they can follow them to the drug suppliers or something. In the meantime, though, Ramel loses his scholarship.”
Lisa nodded. Silence fell, but still she stayed, fiddling with her wedding ring and looking pensive. That was weird because this was now the longest conversation Maddie had ever had with the woman.
“I…actually…we need a favour,” Lisa said.
“Oh?”
“I know you said you wouldn’t help before, but this is serious. We need you to get us the latest gossip on Bartell. Something’s going down. She’s had wall-to-wall suits in with her all morning, and it looks serious. I’ve tried talking to that stuck-up pit bull of hers, the blonde with the fangs and bun hair, but all I got was that we’d find out in ‘due course’.”
“Felicity is an acquired taste.” Maddie wondered why she was defending a woman who said horrendous things but always acted as if she’d said something perfectly reasonable. Maybe she was growing on her.
“So you’ll find out for us what all the fuss is, okay?” Lisa pressed. “We’re counting on you. And Stan and I need to know if I should be looking for a new job real soon.”
Fear was clear on her face, as was a hint of desperation, willing Maddie to agree. It felt wrong to use her personal connection like this. Besides, Elena would probably ignore any business questions she put to her. Rightly so. It was presumptuous to even ask. So Maddie should just say n—
“Please? I’ve seen the way Bartell watches you. She does it a lot. I think she hates you the least of any of us. You’re our best hope.”
She watches me? Madeleine bit her lip and then sighed. “I’ll try.” Hope leaked from Lisa’s expressive brown eyes, and Maddie’s heart sank. “Lisa, I can’t promise anything.”
“I know. Just ask. That’s all we want. Into the dragon’s boca you go. You can do it! You went into Queens in the middle of the night for your interview, right? If anyone can get the dirt, it’s you.” With that, she sashayed back to her desk, shooting several milling reporters the thumbs up.
Maddie sighed and logged on, splitting her screen to see the newsfeeds coming in from the wire services. She also grabbed her obits folder to see who needed a write-up.
A low voice called from the office behind her. “Madeleine.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Maddie saw blue eyes watching her. She rose, headed for the glass office, and slid into the visitor’s chair. Elena was writing something in front of her. For two minutes, Maddie was left staring at the woman’s immaculate black hair, fine cheekbones, and aloof expression while she continued scratching her pen across her paperwork.
“Do you understand that most people who become journalists have ambition?” Elena suddenly asked, without looking up. “I know I did. They write with the hope of a breakthrough of a national story, in the hopes it will propel them ever higher. Not you, though. Do you know why that is?”
Maddie fought the urge to deny it. She waited.
“Because you aren’t a journalist.”
“What?… No!”
“Oh yes.” Elena stopped writing and fixed her with sharp eyes. “You have no ambition, no drive, no understanding of what it takes to be in this profession. You hate your job. You hate this city. You hate your life. So tell me why? Why, Madeleine Grey, are you even here? In New York? Still?”
No words came to Maddie, and she felt herself withering under her scrutiny.
