The Fury - Jason Pinter [3]
Tara Reid. Saying there was no love lost between us was
like saying there was no love lost between east and
west coast rappers.
Wallace was still too far away for us to make out just
who he was introducing around the office, but I got the
feeling he would prefer if he didn't have to do it en
masse.
"I'm going back to my desk," I said. "Jonas, if you
see good taste anywhere, I'll get the paddles and we'll
resuscitate the bastard."
"Thank you for the offer, Henry, but I do believe
it's too late."
I walked back to my desk, trying not to think about
what this could mean. Since Jack left, the Gazette had
been on a hiring freeze. We were in a war with the
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Jason Pinter
Dispatch over circulation rates, advertising dollars and
stories, and our expenses were taking a toll. If Harvey
Hillerman, the president and owner of the Gazette, had
hired a new reporter, he or she had to be important
enough to cause a stir. Not to mention someone who
would be approved of by the other reporters whose pay
raises had been nixed last holiday season.
I sat down and continued working on a story I'd been
following up on for several weeks, about the homeless
population of New York. According to the New York
City Department of Homeless Services, there were over
thirty-five thousand homeless individuals living within
the city's borders. Including over nine thousand
families. That number had increased by fifteen percent
in the last five years.
I was about to pick up the phone, when I heard the
sound of footsteps approach and then stop by my desk.
I looked up to Wallace Langston. And his mystery hire.
"Henry Parker," Wallace said, hand outstretched,
"meet Tony Valentine."
Tony Valentine was six foot three, looked to be a
hundred and eighty svelte pounds and had the smile of
a cruise-ship director. His hair was bleached blond, and
his teeth glistened. His tan was clearly sprayed on, as I
noticed when he extended his hand to shake mine that
his palms were a much paler shade. He wore a designer
suit, and wore it well. A red pocket square was neatly
tucked into his suit jacket. The initials T.V. were em
broidered in white script on the cloth.
As he offered his hand, I noticed his sleeves were
held together by two gold cuff links. Also mono
grammed with T.V.
The Fury
15
Clearly this man did not want his name to be for
gotten.
"Henry Parker," Valentine said, gushing insincere
admiration. "It's just a pleasure to finally meet you. I've
been following your career ever since that nasty
business of your murder accusation. All those guns and
bullets, and now here I am, working with you. Sir, it is
an honor. "
While I pried the goop from my brain, I shook Valen
tine's hand, then looked at Wallace. The name Tony
Valentine did sound familiar, but I couldn't quite place
it...
"Tony is our new gossip reporter," Wallace said en
thusiastically. "We were able to pluck him from Us
Weekly. Today is his first day."
"And not a day too soon," Tony said, pressing the
back of his hand against his forehead, as though diag
nosing a strange malady. "As much as I admire your
paper--and Wallace, please don't think otherwise--it
was lacking a certain pizzazz. A certain panache, if you
will. A certain sexiness."
"Let me guess," I said. "You're here to bring sexy
back."
Tony pursed his lips and smiled. "You're a clever
one, Henry. I'm going to have to keep my eye on you.
So, guess what my new column is going to be called?"
"Do I have to?"
"You most certainly do." Tony waited a moment,
then blurted out, "'Valentine's Day.' Isn't that a riot?"
"Better than the ones in L.A."
"True, true. By the way, Wallace told me you covered
the Athena Paradis murder a while back. Is that so?"
"You heard right," I said. Athena Paradis was a pro
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Jason Pinter
fessional celebrity/diva who was gunned down outside
a nightclub where she was performing tracks off her
upcoming album. I investigated the murder, and nearly
lost my life in the process.
"Let me tell you, the