Chapitre 106: Chapter Seventeen: Act Two
"Wait… that's not the same girl, is it?"
"Who is that? What happened to Wakabayashi-san?"
"What's going on…?"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd at the sight of Kanako stepping out onto the stage. Of course, plenty of people were confused by this development. Aside from the way the person was dressed, Chiyo and Kanako hardly looked alike. Standing out there for all to see, she wore a silver dress that had been dirtied up, and her hair was frazzled to show she had been in a rush. To see Kanako instead of Chiyo was already enough of a shock, but to see the character known as Sydney Alto that the crowd had quickly come to know looking so disheveled, was another shock on it's own.
Confusion was beginning to run rampant, and among the questioners were the group of girls most connected to the ones on stage. "WHAT THE HELL IS KANA-CHAN DOING UP THERE?!" Michi whisper-shouted angrily. "Kana-chan isn't in that class! How did she get in the show?" Itsuki asked, baffled. "This has gotta be one of Chiyo's plans…" Jasmine muttered. "Plans?" Mayu repeated. Leaning in to whisper in her ear, Jasmine said," "Yeah. It's probably to help Haru-chi and Kana-chan finally get together." "O-Oh…" Mayu said quietly.
"Seriously, what is going on?!" Michi said a little louder. "I wonder if she's more upset about Kana-chan being on stage, or Chiyo not being out there anymore," Chitose thought next to her. Although, she was just as confused as everybody else. "Honestly, Chi…" she thought. "Just what are you up to now?"
*****
"WAKABAYASHI! WAKABAYASHI, WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY PLAY?!" Akitsuki shrieked in the wings. Near the entryway to the stage, Chiyo put a finger to her lips. "Careful Akitsuki-san. The audience will hear you if you keep yellin' like that." "I COULD CARE LESS!" Akitsuki screamed. "YOU'RE THE ONE THAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE OUT THERE! SO HOW THE HELL DID NAKATOMI-SAN END UP ON STAGE?!" "What're you talkin' about?" Chiyo said with a sly smile. "She's always been Sydney Alto." "Nonsense!" Akitsuki yelled. "I'm going out there right now to put a stop to this!"
"If you've got any heart at all, you'll stay right there," Chiyo said sternly. Hearing the gal suddenly so serious, Akitsuki froze. "W-What do you mean? The play is already ruined! I need to-" "Take a look out there," Chiyo said. By this point, the actors had recovered and the scene was playing out. "Do ya notice anything?" Begrudgingly, Akitsuki took a glance out to the stage. When she did, she stared for a moment before her eyes went wide. "It's… it's perfect…" she breathed.
The scene was playing out to perfection. Kanako's practice was paying off, and Haruna had managed to recover. Seeing the two of them act, it was obvious they had chemistry better than Chiyo had ever managed with Haruna. "Those two are meant for each other," Chiyo said with a smile as she watched on. "But how-" Akitsuki began to say, but she was stopped. "I told ya," Chiyo said. "Kana-chan's always been the Sydney Alto to Haru-chi's George Holden. Although, I'm hoping their story ends a little differently."
Stunned by this development, all Akitsuki could do was stare on. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Somehow, Kanako had not only learned the script, but she was executing it better than Chiyo had. "How is that even possible?" she wondered. The whole class had practiced endlessly. There should've been no way an outsider could just swoop in and play the role even better. "What's the difference? How is she-"
Then, it finally hit her. What Chiyo had just told her made a lot more sense. "So the rumors really were true…" Akitsuki muttered to herself. "Love… that's the difference. It's because they're really in love with each other." Now understanding, the director of the play watched on with anxious anticipation, much like a member of the audience.
*****
As soon as she saw her, Haruna's mind had stopped working. "K-Kana-chan?!" she screamed internally. "What the hell is she doing out here?! How is she out here?! What is going on?!" Much like the crowd down below, Haruna had a myriad of questions. However, she didn't have the luxury of stopping for answers. "I've gotta say something! ...Wait, what was my line? I can't remember!" And, while Haruna panicked, many of the people on stage were doing the same. Everybody had seemingly forgotten their lines, and a weird pause occurred.
But, before anybody could do anything else, Kanako took the reins. "O-Oh, George! There you are!" she exclaimed. "Miss Alto?" Haruna said automatically as George. "...Huh?" she thought. "That felt so… natural. Is it because of how much I've practiced? I mean, no matter who says it, the line is the same, so maybe I just went on auto-pilot and responded…" And yet, Haruna could tell it was more than that. "This feeling…" she thought. "Why does this feel so… right?"
She had practiced with Chiyo for weeks for this play. But, somehow, now Kanako was on stage and saying each line perfectly. In response, Haruna's lines were coming out more naturally than they ever had. It was like each of them was meant to play across from the other.
*****
"George!" Sydney said in a panic. "Miss Alto? What's wrong? Why are you in such a state?" "Never mind that!" Sydney yelled. "Are you okay?!" "Am I okay…?" George repeated, confused. "Yes! Nothing has happened right?" Sydney asked. "Miss Alto," George said, trying to get her to calm down, but the woman just wasn't listening. It was clear she had been whipped up into a frenzy, but as for the reason, the reporter in front of her had no clue.
"Sydney!" he finally shouted. His raised tone was a bit out of irritation, but more so, he just wanted the woman to take a breath. "Huh? I think that's the first time you've ever said my first name," Sydney said, apparently brought back to her senses. "Sydney," George said more calmly now. "Can you please tell me what's going on?"
Finally regaining her composure, the woman fixed her hair a bit and did her best to shake off the small amount of dirt that had gathered on her clothes. "It's awful Georgie," she said somberly. "Somehow, Owen Harding found out about your digging. He's got that James Fultan man workin' behind the scenes. They just came after me at the Baltimore a half hour ago!" "Came after you?" George said. "They attacked you?" "They told me I should keep my mouth shut if I knew what was good for me. When I told them I wasn't scared of them, they started grabbin' me and tried to take me to the alley out back. I managed to get away, but I fell while I was running," Sydney explained, motioning to the dirt on her dress.
"How did Mr. Harding find out about what I was doing?" George wondered aloud. "I don't know, but I'm sure they'll be here any second to try to talk to you," Sydney said. "Based on what you've told me, it doesn't sound like they'll do much talking," George said gruffly. He found that he was immensely bothered, but he just couldn't tell why. "Obviously it's bothersome to have article research and information leaked, but it feels like there's something else…"
Taking a good look at Sydney, George could see how worried she was. "So she makes faces like that too huh?" he thought idly. Up until now, he had only ever seen the confident and sultry Sydney. To see the seductress in such a state was certainly news to the reporter. However, it also felt like he was noticing her more than before. Thinking back, he realized he had felt that way the last time he had met with Sydney as well.
Before he could give it any more thought, there was a bunch of yelling from down the hall. "Stop! You can't just barge in here!" the receptionist shouted. "Oh shut it broad!" a rough voice yelled back. "We'll do what we want. After all, the business is at stake 'ere." Hearing that voice, Sydney whipped back to George. "It's them Georgie!" she said in a panic. "It's the men that came after me!"
Taking in the commotion, the editor of the New York Sun gave George a hard look. "Alright Holden," he said. "Get out of here." "Excuse me?" the reporter said. "I'm telling ya to scram!" the editor said back strongly. "If you don't leave, those guys'll beat the living daylights out of ya. So, take Miss Alto and beat it. We'll handle things here. Just lay low and we'll get an update to ya when we can." "But sir-" George tried to protest, but a clinging hand on his shirt stopped him. "Please Georgie," Sydney said weakly. "Won't'cha take a lady out for a bit?" With the small look she gave him, there was no way George could turn her down. "Be careful," he told his editor. "Sure thing," the man replied, and then the reporter took Sydney by the hand and they rushed out of the building.
*****
"This is actually… going well…" Haruna thought as she continued to act on stage. "Although, seeing Kanako act like this is really messing with me. Sydney is so different from how Kanako usually is, I can barely keep it together."
Seeing Kanako be a completely different person, especially one that was as seductive as Sydney Alto, was really toying with Haruna's heart. However, she kept doing her best to keep it in check. "We just need to make it to intermission. Then I can find out what's going on."
*****
Unable to go to any safe hotels (such as the Baltimore), and knowing George's apartment would be under attack as well, the man and woman made their way through the bustling streets of Manhattan and headed south. Through running and a couple of taxi rides, they eventually ended up at a motel. It was certainly two stars at most, but they couldn't afford to be picky, neither could they afford much else.
"...Sorry about this," George said after he closed the door to the room. Inside, the interior had to have dated all the way back to the 1930s. The walls were drab, and the covers on the bed screamed Depression era. A painting or two and been hung in an effort to spruce up the space, but they really only brought down the mood with their poor level of quality. Overall, two stars really was the most this particular motel could be given.
"No, don't worry about it," Sydney said with a shake of her head. "After all, I got ya into this mess. Besides, this is kinda cozy, in a way." "Well, it's definitely not the Baltimore," George said. Sydney laughed. "It certainly isn't." With the money they had on hand being all they had, this motel would have to do.
"Still," George said. "I can't get my head around it. How did Mr. Harding find out about me looking into him? As a reporter, I'd like to think I know how to do a proper investigation, but maybe I missed something…" "You didn't miss anything Georgie," Sydney said in a serious tone. "While you've been sticking your nose in papers, I've been stickin' mine elsewhere. I was curious too y'know?" "Sydney, I told you to be careful," George said with a sigh. In fact, on the numerous occasions they had met up, Sydney had asked to help, but George had turned her down every time for her own protection. Apparently, she hadn't listened.
"Guess I should've taken your advice huh?" Sydney said with a weak smile. "I suppose it doesn't really matter now," George said. "So, did you find anything out?" "Probably nothing different than you. Just a lot of land rights and dirty money. Only difference is, I talked to people. Chances are, one of 'em probably told someone who knows Fultan." "You're probably right," George said as he went into thought.
Currently, there were two looming issues. The first was their safety. George was mostly certain that they hadn't been followed, but he hadn't figured out yet just how far Owen Harding's and James Fultan's reach went, so it was possible they could send someone after them that's nearby. They needed to find somewhere they knew would be safe, but where that would be, George had no idea.
The second biggest issue was getting the articles published. When they had left, the Sun had been about to be under siege. Who knew if the articles that were already written even survived? Worse yet, people could've gotten hurt because of all of this. Would they even be willing to publish something that could bring them even more harm?
Taking a look at Sydney, George could tell he needed to figure out something and fast. The woman was more a mess than before, her dress torn in several spots and her hair and makeup falling apart. "...For now," George finally said. "Perhaps you should take a bath. It might do you some good and help calm you down." "Are you gonna get in with me?" Sydney asked, not missing a beat. Despite the circumstances, she still had it in her to make such a remark. "I will not," George said bluntly. "Mmm, stubborn as always," Sydney said with a small pout. "Ah well. I guess I can always show you the good stuff later." "...Wait, what does that-" But before George could finish his question, the bathroom door closed. "...What does she mean, show me later?" he asked to no one.
Of course, considering they had both rushed to the motel, neither of them had a change of clothes. "Hey, George?" Sydney called from behind the door. "Yes?" he responded. "Does this motel sell clothes by any chance?" "Sorry, I don't think I saw a store of any sort," George answered. "I see… well, I guess I'll just make do with this…" Sydney said sadly, no doubt looking at the tattered silver dress she had been wearing.
After her bath, she put the dress back on. "It feels a bit pointless to have taken a bath only to put this thing back on," Sydney said with a weak laugh. "It's a shame it got ruined," George commented. "Oh? Ya like this one Georgie? It was always one of my favorites, especially with its silver color," Sydney said, swaying her dress from side to side with her hands. "Perhaps when this is over, I'll buy you a new one," George offered, but Sydney only laughed in response. "Sorry Georgie, but it would take a month's worth of your paychecks to afford this."
"Well, I think I'll go to the front desk and call the paper," George said. "Alright. I'll be waitin' right here," Sydney said warmly. Leaving her, George headed for the small office that sat right in the middle of the building. However, he didn't make it far.
"You George Holden?" a rough-looking individual asked. The man speaking was tall and big, having the appearance of a security guard one would expect to see at a nightclub. "...And what if I am?" George asked tentatively. "Then I'd tell ya to get back to your office. Don't worry, we won't do nothing to ya. I just think that editor of yours has got a deal for ya." When the man finished speaking, he gave George a look that told him he better listen. "Then… I suppose I should go speak to him," George said, moving past the large man and heading into the office.
Asking for the phone, George took it in his hand and dialed. The phone rang several times until eventually someone picked up. "Holden, is that you?" an exhausted voice asked. "Yeah, it's me. What's going on?" George asked. "...It's bad Holden. Real bad. I know I told you two to run, but there's no runnin' from this. I need ya back at the office, now. Oh, and bring Sydney Alto too. She'll need to hear this." With that, the call ended.
When George stepped back outside, he saw that the looming man was gone. For a moment, he thought he might get ambushed, but there was no place for the previous individual to hide. So, George made his way back to the room. True to her word, Sydney was waiting, having not moved from the spot she had sat in.
"What's wrong Georgie? You got an awfully bad look on your face," the woman said. "I'm afraid we've already got to leave," the reporter responded. "Just when I got all nice and cozy," Sydney joked. "So where we goin'? Paris?" "Nothing as lavish as that," George said back. "A man showed up here. He probably worked for or with Fultan. Told me to call my editor, which I was going to do anyways. When I spoke to my editor, he told you and I to both come back. Apparently there's something going on."
For a moment, it looked like Sydney would protest. "...Sydney?" George said, seeing her odd reaction. "And just when we got to run away together…" she muttered, but it wasn't loud enough for George to hear. "Alright, then I guess we better go."
When they arrived back at the New York Sun, they saw the office was a complete mess. Papers were scattered everywhere, desks were flipped, and at least one person was being tended to for a couple of scratches. Moving quickly, George and Sydney entered the editor's office, which was in just as bad of shape.
"Sir," George said, getting the man's attention. The editor was currently on the ground, trying to clean up what was formerly a stack of papers. "Oh, Holden, you made it. And Miss Alto too." "Looks like it got bad after we left," George said. The editor nodded. "Yeah, but I'll tell ya about all that later. Listen Holden. You too Miss Alto." After a pause, the man continued. "They gave us an ultimatum. Publish and face a lawsuit, or ditch the papers and forget about it all."
"That's nothing new," George said. "We hear stuff like that all the time." "That's not all," the editor said gravely. "They also said that if we publish, they'll call for your head along with Miss Alto. Simply put, we give this to the public, and you two'll be the face of this whole thing."
*****
"We will now take a fifteen minute intermission," a girl's voice said through the speakers. As soon as the curtain dropped, Haruna turned to face Kanako. "Hey Kana- huh?" she said. Before she could even say a word to her new co-star, she had disappeared. "Where did she go?!" Haruna yelled. To answer her question, Chiyo came walking up to her, now dressed in the Iwanai High school uniform.
"Chiyo! What the hell is going on?! Why aren't you on stage anymore?! Why-" Before Haruna could continue, Chiyo put a finger on her lips. "Just relax Haru-chi," she said easily. "R-Relax?!" Haruna exclaimed. "I don't even know what's going on anymore!" "Seems like you're doing fine on stage to me," Chiyo said. "Chiyo," Haruna said sternly, putting her hands on the girl's shoulders. "I'm barely holding it together out there. The only reason it's going as well as it is is because of all the practicing we did. But seriously, I need to know why Kanako is Sydney now instead of you, because I'm freaking out."
After listening to her friend, Chiyo only smiled. "It's for you, Haru-chi," she said. "Who better to play your love interest than the girl you're actually in love with?" "What…?" Haruna uttered. When she thought about it that way, that did make sense. Haruna was in love with Kanako, so having good chemistry with her on stage seemed natural. But, Haruna still had plenty of questions.
"I guess I can understand that," she said, "But how did she even get involved in our class's play? How does she have costumes that fit her? Why does she know all the lines? Did Akitsuki-san know? What about Hinami-chan? Is she-" "Haru-chi!" Chiyo said, putting a stop to the flood of questions. "I know you're confused right now, but just trust me, okay? And… trust Kana-chan too."
Trust? It felt hard to do that when Haruna was left with so many questions with no answers. "Where is Kanako now? Can I talk to her?" she asked, but Chiyo just shook her head. "I hid her away partly because I knew you'd ask. You'll see her again when intermission is over." "Chiyo, please-" Haruna tried to beg, but Chiyo shut her down. "The next time you talk to her," she said.
"Don't run."
And with those final words, Chiyo walked away. Left at a loss, Haruna could only pace back and forth in the wings as she waited for intermission to end. "Don't run?" she repeated in her head. "What does that mean?" Although, Haruna had a guess. "If it's that…" Could she listen to her best friend's demand? Would she be able to? "If I'm right… and that happens… will I be able to face her?"
However, before Haruna could give it any more thought, a buzzer sounded, indicating it was time to start act two of the play.
*****
Some time passed before George Holden finally spoke again. "Publish it." "...Are you nuts?" his editor asked. "I know how big this story is, but the results are probably gonna tear you to pieces. You sure?" "Yes. It's our jobs to report the facts, no matter the costs," George said firmly. Lighting up a cigarette, the editor took in a deep breath of smoke before pushing it out. "I hope you're ready for this… I hope we're all ready…"
Leaving the office, George gathered all of the things he'd need to get his articles ready to publish. There were still several unfinished, but he had enough to at least get the ball rolling. "Hey, Georgie," Sydney said, concern riddled on her face. "You really sure about this? I mean, you saw what happened to me and to this place…" "Fear is the enemy of truth," George said like it was his code to live by. "If we let them intimidate us into not publishing, it'll only make them feel like they can control more of what we put out. I refuse to let that happen. The New York Sun is an establishment of factual information distribution. Our job is to tell the public the truth, and that is what I intend to do."
Hearing how resolute he sounded, Sydney failed to give a response. Although, a part of her almost wanted to tell him to forget about it and run away with her anyways, but she held her tongue. And while she did, George finished grabbing what he needed and then sent it to the printing room.
The next morning, the headline of the Sun declared that Owen Harding was a crook who was engaged in illegal land rights. Naturally, that caused a swarm of reporters to gather at his place of residence. Plenty of them wanted to know if it was true or not, and what exactly he was trying to do. Being the deft politician that he was, Harding managed to navigate through the bombardment of questions, while also adding in shots at the Sun. He accused them of slandering his name and reputation, claiming that the allegations against him were false.
As for James Fultan, his goons had already shown up at the office of the Sun, but this time the paper was ready. They had informed the police in advance, so officers were guarding the front doors. No one in, but also, no one out.
"It's a bit like a prison, except instead of bars and shackles, we got desks and paperwork," one of George's co-workers joked. "But hey, at least we got a beautiful babe in here with us," another said, referring to Sydney. The woman had joined George at the office after he insisted it would be the safest place for her, but she had come in looking like her usual sultry self. Wearing a golden dress that glittered with her every movement, it was impossible for her not to be eye-catching.
"I do wish you would've worn something less provocative," George commented. "There's no sense in drawing more attention than necessary." "But what if the only attention I'm tryin' to draw is yours Georgie?" Sydney asked playfully. "Well, you've got it, that's for sure," the reporter answered simply. "O-Oh… well… good," was all Sydney could muster in response.
"Say," the woman went on, trying to cover for her being caught off-guard. "you really think you'll be able to get all that information out there without any problems?" "What do you mean?" George asked. "Well, what if those thugs decide to burn down the printer room? Or what if they try to collect every paper in town?" "Every paper in town might be too unrealistic," George said. "Maybe, but who knows how far Fultan's reach goes. A fixer and a politician together make for a lot of hands, y'know?"
Admittedly, she was right. George honestly wondered himself if he'd be able to publish the whole series of articles he had planned before they got stopped. So far, they only had one out. "And if this is the reaction after one…" he muttered to himself. Then would more than one be too much?
He knew his career might be at stake, and of course, the very existence of the New York Sun. But, George also held a firm belief in telling the facts, and the fact was Owen Harding, a man the people of the state depended on, was corrupt. That was something that the public needed to know, and that was exactly what George was planning to do.
After several hours, the fuss outside finally quieted down, but the officers remained posted at the doors, just in case. Everyone in the office continued to do their work as best they could without having to leave the building, and it wasn't before long that nighttime came around. Understanding that the danger to the both of them hadn't lessened just because people couldn't be seen waiting for them, George turned to Sydney. "So, where will you go tonight?" He asked. Going back to her apartment was certainly out of the question. "It's pretty cold."
"Well y'know, they say that two people together are warmer than one. You got any spare room in that lonely old apartment of yours Georgie?" Sydney asked in a soft voice. George knew what she was getting at. "I can''t let you spend the night," he said. "You're already a source in one of my articles. If people saw you entering with me, it would be a scandal. Besides, I'm sure they're watching my place too." "So we're just going to sleep here?" Sydney asked with a bit of dread.
Really, George didn't want to do that either. The floor was as hard as concrete, and sleeping in any of the chairs was sure to ruin a person's back. "Perhaps… we can figure something out," George decided. At the very least, they needed to leave the paper. So, gathering his things (as well as Sydney's), the two of them headed out.
Telling the taxi they hailed where to go, George and Sydney ended up in an area with several hotels. "None of them are the Baltimore, but they should work to keep us out of harm's way," George said as he walked into one. "Are we sharing a room?" Sydney asked slyly. "Of course not," George said. "We'll get-" But before he could finish that sentence, Sydney had walked up to the front desk and said. "One room please."
"S-Sydney!" George exclaimed. "Hm? You say somethin', Georgie darling?" Her sickly sweet tone of voice and her perfectly chosen words brought George's mind and mouth to a halt. "Uh… n-no…" he uttered, then thought to himself, "Darling…?" Repeating the word in his head made his heart beat a little faster.
*****
And, just like her character, Haruna's heart was racing as well. "I knew it was coming, but…" she thought. "Hearing Kanako call me darling…" It was taking everything inside of her to not start squealing with delight. "It sounds so nice… but I can't break character. I have to keep it together out here!" Although, Haruna was beginning to wonder now if she really would be able to make it through.
*****
In the end, nothing eventful happened at the hotel aside from Sydney's usual poking. However, the next day brought plenty of excitement, and not the good kind. While going to check the Sun to make sure his editor had published the next article, George saw a tabloid sitting next to it. What he saw on the front page made his jaw drop.
"REPORTER FOR THE SUN AND HIS SOURCE ENTER HOTEL AND DON'T LEAVE UNTIL MORNING! IS THE HARDING SCANDAL TRUE, OR IS IT ALL ACTUALLY A WORK OF FICTION?!"
Of course, seeing a reporter and a known source of his go into a hotel together might seem like it had the potential to be a little scandalous. However, hotels were common meeting places, so people often didn't think much of it. An added detail like, "they didn't leave until morning," though, would certainly make people talk. It was true that George and Sydney had stayed the night, but they hadn't actually left yet. But, for a tabloid, that didn't matter. The two would have to leave eventually, so it would become truth soon enough.
Worse yet, there was a picture of the two of them walking in together. How they got it without being noticed, George wasn't sure, but there was no denying his face and Sydney's were plastered on the front page of the tabloid. "This… isn't good," he muttered as he picked it up.
Opening it and flipping to the headline story, he found not only more borderline factual statements, but an actual interview done with Owen Harding. In it, he claimed he couldn't believe the Sun would allow a piece to be published that used a source so close to the reporter, and that their reputability should be called into question. Seeing him say something like that made George wonder just how much Harding knew about his relationship with Sydney, but he decided in the end it didn't really matter. The damage had been done.
*****
Over the course of the next few weeks, the Sun continued to put out articles about Harding's dealings, each one more damning than the last. In response, the politician kept using tabloids to simultaneously defend himself and attack the New York Sun, George and Sydney. This back and forth seemed like it would go on forever, until the most recent article came out.
In the piece, the Sun told the public that Harding had done business with individuals involved in gang activity. These "activities" ranged anywhere from defending territory to flat-out violent crimes, but really, it was all bad. Because of its possible severity, the article even caught the attention of some of Harding's political associates and allies. They put out statements questioning the man, and at the same time, put some distance between themselves and him.
This proved to be the final straw, as Harding himself marched down to the offices of the Sun and straight into the editor's office. "You!" he screamed. "I demand you retract those articles immediately!" Calmly, the editor took a drag from his cigarette before turning his attention to the older gentleman. "Oh, Mr. Harding. I'm surprised it took you this long to come down here. So, what can I do for you?" "You know damn well why I'm here!" Harding screamed. "I want a retraction!"
Taking on a serious air, the editor leaned forward in his chair and placed his elbows on the desk in front of him. "Mr. Harding," he said coldly. "The New York Sun is in the business of telling facts and truth. We do not publish lies, nor do we publish anything without double-checking. If we have put information in our paper, it has been thoroughly examined for falsities. And, might I add, if you don't like what we wrote, perhaps you should change your way of life."
Harding tensed up from sheer anger, shaking at his core. "You know who I am," he growled. "I can and will shut this paper down if you don't issue a retraction." "Then I guess we're done here," the editor said. Considering his position, he knew any case Harding brought to court would be rejected. There was really no legal way the politician could shut down the Sun.
Knowing that as well, Harding stopped before taking a breath. "How about this," he said. "If you're so well-versed in my 'connections,' then you know what kind of people I work with. I suppose my reputation is already in shambles regardless of if you offer a retraction, but I'd at least appreciate it if you ceased these attacks. So, here's my proposal: fire that writer, George Holden and bring his reputation and trustworthiness into question, along with that Sydney Alto woman, or I'll make sure the Sun never rises again."
With his threat issued, Harding then turned and left the room. Once he was gone, the editor let out a long and massive sigh. "...Holden really ain't gonna like this," he muttered as he lit another cigarette. Picking up the phone, he told the secretary to give his best reporter a call.
*****
"So, that's the deal," the editor said. "Now, we can fight it if ya want, but I'm not so sure our word will hold up against a politician's in court, at least not in a case of something like building destruction." After hearing the "offer," George sat in silence. He was quiet, but it was obvious he was fuming. "...This is absurd," he finally said in a heavy tone. "All we're doing is telling the truth."
"I know that Holden," the editor said. "I know it, the staff knows it, hell, the whole country knows it by now. But, words only work on minds, paper and courts. They won't stop a flame from torching this building or stop a writer from getting attacked in the street." "But still, to think he would sink so low," George said through gritted teeth.
"Look Holden," the editor said. "I'm willing to fight this all the way, because I don't like it any more than you do. I've even asked some of the staff, and they agree with me. But ultimately, it's up to you. I won't force ya either way. And be sure to talk to Miss Alto about this too."
With that to think about, George left the office. He hated the whole thing, but he also knew he had been backed into a corner. "Leave and save the Sun, or drag it down with me," he thought. It practically felt like too much to think about alone. Going out for some fresh air, it wasn't long before he ended up at a familiar place: the Baltimore.
After Harding's proposal, he had pulled back all of his "forces," so both George and Sydney were free to return to their normal lives. Sydney had wasted no time getting back to the hotel she so loved, and as soon as she arrived, she had had a message sent to George telling him just that. "So even when I don't think about it, I still end up where she is…" he thought.
Walking in, he headed straight to the bar. Already seated was Sydney, wearing a dark green dress that hugged her figure tightly, along with holding a glass in her hand with a clear liquid inside. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise," she said with a smile. "You don't usually come to me Georgie." However, before he said a word to her, George put up a finger to get the bartender's attention. "The strongest you've got. Neat." Hearing that, Sydney's eyes went wide a little bit. "Drinking on the job?" she asked in surprise.
The drink arrived quickly, and when it did, George drank half of it before finally turning to Sydney. "I'm screwed, Syd," he said, the alcohol already getting to him. "Huh? What do you mean?" the woman asked. "Harding," George said with bitterness. "He came to the office. Told my editor that I either have to quit and the Sun ruins my reputation, or the whole paper goes down." "Can he do that?" Sydney asked. "Not legally, but yeah, probably," George said in a quieter tone. "Not to mention, he's threatening you too." "Well, that makes sense," Sydney said. "Though, he wouldn't be the first man to do so." Then a silence fell over them.
"...So, what will you do?" Sydney finally asked. "What else can I do?" George asked back. "All I can do is-"
"Run away with me."
Before George could finish his sentence, Sydney threw her own offer out there. "...Come on Sydney. You know every time you say something like that, I have no idea if you're serious or not." "And what if I told you I am?" the woman asked, scooting closer to the man next to her. "We could go anywhere Georgie. London, Paris, Barcelona. Wherever we want. We could have a nice, quiet life, just me and you."
It was very unusual to hear Sydney speak so earnestly. Once George processed what she was saying, he found that all he could do was smile. "Sorry," he said. "As nice as that sounds, you know there's no way either of us could live like that."
George Holden, ace reporter.
Sydney Alto, woman of mystery.
Neither of them were suited to a "quiet life." When George pointed that out, Sydney let out a small, defeated laugh. "You're probably right Georgie. But, a girl can dream, can't she?" "...Yeah, I suppose she can," George said, taking another drink from his glass.
*****
In the days that followed, George handed in his resignation. He believed it would be better for him to leave than to endanger everyone at the paper he so loved, along with finding this option to be the best way to protect the woman that had come to mean so much to him. After that, the Sun wrote an expose about him, essentially only talking about the reporter's bad points without actually making up lies. They also wrote up an entire article about Sydney's less-than-savory acts. That was enough to satisfy Harding. Once that was done, George found himself with a lot of free time, now being unemployed, until one day, he got a call from his editor.
At the request he come to the office, George met up with his now former editor. "Alright, listen quick, because I can only say this once." Giving his full attention, George took in every word the haggard man said. "I've got a friend who lives in London now. I wired him and told him I needed to cash in every favor I have. In exchange, he found a position for ya. It's a small paper, and nothing excitin' really happens in town, but you can still do what ya love. If ya want the job, here's the number. Don't worry about the international fee. Just bill me for it."
After handing George the paper, the editor continued. "Oh yeah, and I got a message from Miss Alto." Hearing the woman's name, George quickly turned his attention back to the man. "We happened to run into each other the other day, so she wanted me to give you a message. She said she's leaving town, and she's sorry that she can't say goodbye."
A part of George had wondered why he hadn't heard from Sydney in a while. "That explains it…" he said to himself before looking back to his former editor. "Well, thanks for this. Maybe I'll pay you back someday." "You can pay me back by doing good work over there," the editor said.
*****
London.
George had officially began to work at the small paper he had been recommended to. Just as he had been told, it was quiet work, but it was still enjoyable. His co-workers were all good people, and the community itself was easy to get along with. All in all, it was a good deal.
However, one day, George heard one of his co-workers say something odd. "...this beauty in the pub." "A beauty?" George repeated. "Ah, you interested? She's really somethin,' lemme tell ya. Gorgeous hair and legs, and a real nice figure. Interesting name too. What was it… Miss Baltimore, I think?"
Immediately, George shot out of his chair. "You said the pub?" he asked quickly. "Uh, yeah, the one down the street," the co-worker said, surprised by George's reaction. "Thank you!" the reporter said, dashing out of the office. Something told him he needed to go. He knew, deep down, that maybe, just maybe…
"There's no way," he thought. "There's just no way. The odds are so low… but…" He remembered her talking about London. She even suggested it for running away together. Then there was the fact that she had left New York. Could she really…?
Running as fast as he could, George flew into the pub. There at the bar remained a singular napkin, and on it, one word had been written. In curvy, black and flowing letters, it read "Baltimore."
"Excuse me," George said to the bartender. "Where's the woman who wrote this?" "She just left a moment ago," he said. Taking the note, George quickly went back out the door and started looking in every direction, turning his head in all ways in order to maybe catch a glimpse of the person he hoped to see.
Then, (while being the only person on stage), George stopped. "Excuse me!" he called. Taking several steps forward, he held out the napkin. "Is this yours?" After a second of silence, he continued. "Baltimore… I'm not sure if it means anything here, but back where I'm from, it's a really nice hotel. The place is decked to the nines, and the glamour shines in every hall. But, you know what I really liked about that place? There was this woman there. She always wore dresses, and the way she spoke always kept me spellbound. And, she'd always have some drink in her hand that I never knew what it was. Honestly, once I met her, the Baltimore came to mean a lot to me. It has a lot of fond memories… both for me… and you..."
"...Right, Sydney?"
And so, a story filled with digging for the truth and bittersweet romance came to an end as the curtain dropped. What followed after was raucous applause.
End of Chapter Seventeen.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone