Gun Moll

*TWO MONTHS LATER*

After graduation -and a small vacation in Italy- I arrive to Chicago and more importantly, my new home. The apartment itself is in a nice building that has a door man, but the neighborhood itself is noise and loud, I guess that’s Chicago for you. I spent the last two nights restlessly tossing and turning in my bed; part of me wonders if I’m ever going to get used to the traffic outside.

Monday arrives, and it’s my first day as a writer on a local newspaper. Being nervous would be an understatement when it comes to how I’m feeling as I get ready in the morning. I bypass eating anything, seeing as though my stomach is acting like an acrobat at the circus but that doesn’t stop me from brewing my favorite coffee; a vain attempt at relaxing the nerves. I quickly pour the rest of the pot into a thermal cup before heading out the door, locking it behind me

“Good morning, Miss Darling.” The door man, Richard, sayings, greeting me as I exit the elevator. “Ready for your first day on the job?”

“I’m a little nervous, but a little nerves can’t overcome the excitement I’m feeling.” I smile at him. Richard was an older fellow, roughly in his early 60’s. He’s rather fit for his age and doesn’t look like he’s old enough to my be my grandfather. He also uses a lot of slang words from the 20’s and 40’s; I think it’s rather adorable.

“Nothing like a little Corn, can’t handle.” He laughs, already using old slang this early in the morning, and lucky for him I actually know what he’s saying.

“Are you asking me out for a couple drinks?” I ask, casually and harmlessly flirting with the older gentleman.

“Maybe I am.” He smirks at me, winking at me too.

“I’ll see you later Richard.” I laugh as walk away, waving goodbye to him.

I walk outside and immediately I’m trusted into the typical Chicago morning. After three failed attempts at hailing a taxi, I finally get one. As I’m giving the cabbie the address, he’s looking at my skeptically in the rearview mirror. I shake off the nervous feeling and just relax in the backseat as he begins to drive to my destination.

Thirty minutes later, the taxi comes to the stop in a bad neighborhood. The building itself has bars on the windows and there is trash everywhere along with a few girls that may or may not be hookers.

“This can’t be the place.” I state, afraid to pay the fare and get out the cab.

“This is The Gazette, sweet thing.” The cabbie informs me, “not much to look at but this is the same address you gave me.”

“A newspapers’ office is in the middle of the hood?” I question him, as I pay my twenty dollar fare. “I thought this was a legit newspaper.”

“It is but a few years back, the paper lost all it’s credibility due to an older writer taking brides to keep a family out of the press, he was paid to keep the truth from coming out.” He explains.

“What have I gotten myself into?” I ask myself before grabbing my purse and exiting the cab. Without thinking, the drive pulls away and speeds down the street, leaving me to deal with the stares from the few girls on the corner. Not wanting the attention, I scurry off into the building, bumping into someone as I do; causing all of the papers he’s holding to fall onto the ground.

“I’m so sorry.” I repeat over and over as I bend over and help him pick up all the papers.

“It’s perfectly fine.” He chuckles as I hand them over. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“I’m Giselle Darling, I’m the new writer.” I introduce myself, holding out my hand.

“I’m Brad Robertson, the head editor.” He smiles, as he takes my hand and shakes it. “I was wondering when you would get here.”

“I just came back from a trip to Italy,” I begin to explain as we walk into the office area, “it was a graduation gift from my step-father.”

“Lucky you, I graduate and all I got was a job working here.” He jokes, “my dad owns the place.”

“So I’m assuming people hate the fact you work here, wondering if you only go the job because of your connection.” I laugh, casuing a smile to appear on his lips.

“You’re funny, I like you.” I tells me, follow me and I’ll show you to your office.” As we walk, he’s talking about where everything is and who can help me if I need it. But I don’t really hear much, I’m too busy worrying about the people staring at me, glaring as I walk towards the office. Most of them look to be older than I am and probably worked here longer, and here I am. I’m fresh out of college and I’m getting the job as a head writer; a job most of these people have probably worked their whole careers to obtain.

“So here’s your office,” Brad says, snapping me from my trance. I look around and it’s a blank canvas. The only thing really in the room is an oak computer desk, a black office chair and a computer and printer from back in the stone age. “You’re are more than welcome to add your touches to the place, you’re probably going to be here more than you are at home.” The tone in his voice tells me he’s lying.

“That’s a lie.” I point out as I walk into my office, “I heard about what happened a couple years ago, losing credibility is a hard thing to come back from.”

“But that’s why you’re here.” He smiles, “my father’s brother is the Dean at Emerson, he found out your ability to investigate and bring people in. He thinks you’re going to be the writer that brings the paper back to life.” With that Brad leaves my office, closing the door behind him. A sigh escapes my lips as I place my bag and coffee thermal onto the desk before sitting on the old black chair and lean back. A sigh escapes my lips, today and the rest of my life is going to be hell because of this job. I can just feel it…

**

“Shouldn’t you be working?” Ester asks as I call her on my lunch break.

‘I’m on my lunch break and I figured I’d call.” I laugh as I get my hoagie from Subway. “This job is going to be the death of me, I swear.” I tell her as I walk back outside, thankfully the office is only across the street. “This newspaper is in the middle of a horrible neighborhood and is barely making any money because it lost its credibility years ago. I’m impressed that it stayed open this long.”

“It sounds like you landed yourself in a bit of an adventure.” She laughs, causing me to roll my eyes despite knowing she can’t see.

“Part of me wants to quit and find another job but…”

“The other part of you craves the excitement and the unknown that this job has.” She finishes for me, “I say stay at the job, you may never know where it’ll lead you.”

“I wonder what story they were working on that lead the paper to end up like how it is.” I sigh as I lean up against the building.

“Use your investigating skills and snoop around a bit,” Ester suggests, “that might be the only way for you to find out.”

“But it could possibly lead me to a place I don’t want to end up.”

“That’s just a risk you’ve got to make for good journalism…”