The Darkness - Jason Pinter [27]
"What kind of money are we talking about?"
Chester stopped walking. He reached inside his coat,
pulled out a ballpoint pen. Then he walked over to a garbage can on the corner, tore a page off a loose newspaper. He scribbled something on the paper, then held it out
for Morgan to see.
Morgan felt his stomach lurch, felt his hands go cold.
Chester crumpled the scrap up and threw it back into the
trash, then he kept walking. Morgan was unable to move
for a moment, before snapping out of it and jogging to
catch up.
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This couldn't be right. Nobody started at the bottom
of any company and made that much money.
Chester was walking faster. Morgan's short legs
couldn't keep up, so he found himself half walking, half
jogging to keep alongside the man.
"If you're interested," Chester said, "you'll be downstairs outside of your apartment tomorrow at 1:00 p.m.
You'll be dressed just like you are now. Let me make this
clear. You do not have the job. Not yet. If you tell anybody
about the offer, or if you're one second late, you'll never
see me again."
"I'll be there," Morgan gasped.
"Good," Chester said. The man stopped walking. Out
of nowhere, a black Lincoln Town Car pulled up alongside them. Chester walked over, opened the door and
climbed in.
"Wait!" Morgan said. "Don't you need to know where
my apartment is?"
Morgan's words faded into the roar of the exhaust as
Chester's car sped away, leaving the young man confused, excited and ready.
10
When we arrived back at the Gazette, I followed Jack to
his desk. Yet as we rounded the corner, I saw Tony Valentine approaching. When Tony saw me his face lit up.
Actually I couldn't tell if his face lit up, considering there
was enough self-tanner on there to make George Hamilton
look pale, and his face was pumped with enough Botox to
iron out a shar-pei. But he did have a big smile on his face,
and his gait picked up when he saw me coming.
"Henry!" Tony exclaimed, jogging up and placing his
arm around me. "I've been looking for you. Where've you
been all morning?"
"Chasing a story," I said. "Tony, have you met Jack
O'Donnell?"
Tony shook his head, but took Jack's hand and did a
neat little bow. "Not yet, but your reputation precedes
you, Mr. O'Donnell. It's a pleasure."
"Pleasure's all mine, Mr. Valentine," Jack replied. His
tone surprised me. As a hard news man, I didn't think Jack
would have much use for Tony Valentine. Tony had recently been brought on board at the Gazette to kickstart
the paper's flailing gossip pages, which had grown stale
with coverage that revolved mainly around celebrities who
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stopped being famous before I was born. Tony was one of
the top names in the gossip field--if you could call it
that--and already his columns were among the most
e-mailed on the Gazette Web site. He dressed like he was
auditioning to be James Bond on a daily basis, and smiled
like he was being paid to. We had nothing in common other
than our employer, and I preferred to keep it that way.
"Henry," Tony said. "Glad we ran into each other. Do
I have an offer for you!"
"I already have life insurance," I said.
Valentine laughed. "That's a good one. Seriously now,
have you heard of Belinda Burke?"
The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't
place it. "Sounds familiar," I said, "but I'm not sure why."
"Belinda was a contestant on Marry My Mother-in-
law. She won a million bucks by setting her mother-inlaw up with the dentist who walked from Dallas to
Newark stark naked."
"Oh, yeah. Right. Match made in heaven."
"Well, Belinda has quite a story to tell. So naturally
she's decided to write a memoir."
"That's nice. Literature was getting a bit stale."
"I totally agree! Anyway, she was going to use this
ghostwriter named Flak. Just one word, like Madonna. He
ghostwrote Joe the Plumber's autobiography, did a wonderful job. Anyway, Flak came down with syphilis and I
thought you might want to give it a crack. I know Belinda's
agent and could get you two a meeting, no problem."
"Um...why