Operation Heartbreaker Read online

  When the page containing her blog opened after what felt like an eternity, she let out a high-pitched scream. “Oh, my God!”

  Julie leaned forward, threw a glance at the writing and grinned. Ally’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me I’m dreaming!”

  The corners of Julie’s mouth quivered, but she was successfully fighting the smile.

  “You can’t be serious! It doesn’t really say: He is the hottest hunk at the New York Stock Exchange. Does it?”

  “Hey, I only wanted to help. The text was too serious, almost boring. I‘m a member of you readership, I should know.”

  “Julie, the guy is reading my column! How am I supposed to explain it? How am I going explain this to my…” She swallowed. Great, now she knew what her chief editor wanted to talk to her about.

  “How in the world did you get my password?” Before Julie could answer, she lifted her hand. “Don’t tell me. I don’t even want to know.”

  Letting out a sigh, she started to go through the comments.

  “What happened to the stalker who wrote to you like three times a day?” Julie inquired. “What’s his name again? Catch me?”

  “It’s called a fan,” Ally grumbled and uploaded her original text to her blog. “And his name is catch(h)er92.”

  “Lemme know if I’m mistaken, but as far as I remember he was ready to book you guys a room.”

  She crinkled her nose at this memory, but remained silent. When she read the commentary of catch(h)er92 she moaned. “Crap, he still wants to go on a date.”

  “Cool! Tell him you want to meet him on Valentine’s Day in Paris,” Julie cheerfully suggested.

  Ally grinned. Why not? “Will the Ritz do it?” She typed without waiting for an answer. “Probably,” she muttered. “12 o’clock should be perfect, what do you think?”

  “Ally!”

  She pushed send and immediately felt like an idiot. What in hell had gotten into her? It was bad enough that Julie contaminated her blog with her snotty language, now she was jumping right in. Mentally she shook her head. It must be the nerves. After all, she was flying to Paris tomorrow. Un-freaking-believable!

  When she read the next comment by Iwan94, she smiled.

  Thank you for the hot hunk! It wasn’t Lindsay Lohan though, but Kristen Stewart. Looking forward to our meeting, V.

  Her throat became dry like sand paper, when Julie spoke.

  “Holy shit, do you think that’s the real Viktor?”

  “No idea.” That was the second lie today. The energetic signature told her that Iwan94 was in fact Viktor. She was so screwed! Why had Julie done this to her and changed the text?

  “Theoretically, it could be anybody, unless your editing room checks the IP-address,” her friend replied and went on to the next comment by Massimo89.

  “Ewww, him again.” She stopped short and read:

  You are even more beautiful than I imagined. Surprised, she looked up. “Don’t tell me you sent him your picture!”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Thank God!”

  “I mailed him one of you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Remember the party at Marc’s? When you puked on his shoes after drinking too much punch?”

  Punch was a polite interpretation of the crap it had been. After almost every guest had put a few extras into the bowl over the course of the evening, the brew had become something more similar to battery acid.

  “As if it was yesterday. Why?”

  “Well, back then Marc took a photo of you, and that’s what I now…well…” Instead of finishing the sentence she shrugged.

  “You haven’t!” Julie screamed.

  For a moment Ally managed to keep a straight face, then she broke into laughter, which Julie joined in after brief hesitation.

  “You bitch! You scared the hell out of me!”

  “Hey, I’m your friend. And, well, after what you did to Miranda I’d be insane to send photos of you vomiting all over the place.” She undid the knot in her belt and threw it onto the bench. “I took the one of you in the year book.”

  “You minx!” Julie lashed her belt out at Ally.

  Ally laughed and skillfully evaded her. No way she would have sent a photo of herself. Compared to Julie she looked frighteningly unimpressive. No curves, no butt, no nothing. Her mouth seemed too big for her slim face and her black hair was straight and boring with bangs that constantly fell into her eyes. Added to that she had eyes the color of which couldn’t be determined. Who in the world looked like that?

  Julie on the other hand was a stunner. Blonde mane, expressive blue eyes and pink puckered lips. A total bombshell. Under normal circumstances, she should have had a ton of admirers in her wake, but she didn’t. That’s probably because of Julie’s direct ways and her dirty humor. The fact that she was a math genius who could make others look like complete idiots probably didn’t help either. On top, she was witty with a sassy touch. What kind of guy would willingly let a girl knock the stuffing out of him just because his pants were hanging down his ass. Nice butt, Josh, but why in the world do you’ve to show it around?, Julie brought it to a point.

  Ally wasn’t shy, but she would’ve never been able to pull that number. The two of them barely had anything in common, but complemented each other in a lot of ways. Julie was a nerd and member of the computer science club at the Redmond High. Ally was better with words and a part of the editing team of the school newspaper, Mustangs. Julie was extroverted, Ally could listen. Julie had a big mouth, Ally could hit–hard. She didn’t do it, but after entering martial arts, everybody knew she was up for it. And there were no secrets at her high school. At least not for long.

  “Why don’t you put me in your suitcase and check me in as luggage?” Julie suggested after their shower.

  Ally, towel-drying her hair, paused for a moment. “I really wish you could be there. Just imagine: you and me in Paris, what a blast!”

  “I know!” Julie whined “I can’t even start to think about the fact that my parents are spending the entire weekend in California. I so would have time.” She shook her head in disbelief, as if being unable to grasp her misery.

  Ally knew that her friend would do anything to come along, but it was impossible. “It’s kind of sad that I can only leave cause Uncle David is staying in Washington until Monday. If he knew where I’m really going to be, they’d have to put him under an oxygen tent.” She let out a frustrated noise and threw her shower gel into her beauty case. “He’d never let me go anywhere,” she muttered and leaned her back against the locker.

  “He`s really strange,” Julie remarked while looking for her second shoe.

  “Tell me about it.” Ally motioned towards the row of lockers on the opposite side. “You kicked it underneath those.”

  Julie got on her knees and welcomed her slipper like a lost son. “And then this whole martial arts crap,” she continued after having slipped her shoe on. “I mean, you’re a girl. I understand that he’s worried, but one can also exaggerate things…”

  “Well, after the attack…”

  “I know. I’m not saying I don’t get it. I mean, look at me: I’m stuck in karate lessons with Rambo-chick here, letting her beat the living daylight out of me.”

  “What did you just call me?”

  Julie screamed when Ally threw herself at her and started to tickle her.

  “Okay, you win!” she called out, wiping some tears from her eyes. “I’ll even drive you to your stupid editorial office.”

  “Really?”

  Julie sighed. “Well now, who has a driver’s license?”

  “That would be you.”

  “Right. And a half-hour cab-drive costs a fortune.”

  True. Ally packed her stuff into her backpack before her friend could change her mind.

  “Though in my opinion,” Julie added, “she could send you her corrections to the interview questions via mail.”

  “You think it’s something like that?” That would be
too good to be true. More likely, she had been irked by the hottest hunk and was going to give her a lecture on it. Serious journalism and all–yadda yadda. It would be interesting to explain that the text had been changed after approval, namely by a certain friend whose name shall not be spoken.

  After all Julie owed her the drive to the editorial office. Because of her actions Ally had to show up, at least. Whatever the reason for Renée’s mail, Ally knew that she was fuming.

  Julie shrugged. “What else? Unless the questions are so abysmally poor that she has to tell you in person.” She closed the zipper of her gym bag. “Maybe she just wants to give you your ticket. But come to think, that’s bullshit, since the two of you are meeting at the airport.”

  Not good at all, Ally thought, and grabbed her pillbox. When Julie wasn’t looking, she took one. The last one, she noticed. She would have to fill up her supply when she got home. When the familiar numbness set in she sighs with relief.

  *

  They were silent for the first minutes during the drive downtown. They didn’t have to talk anyway. Julie plugged her iPod into the radio of her VW Beetle and the two of them listened to George Michael’s Amazing on infinite loop. The fact that Julie rocked back and forth enthusiastically gave Ally a hard time holding on to her gloomy mood. When they passed Bellevue with their top down, she was already rocking too, and on the Evergreen Bridge, both of them were singing their lungs out. “The day you walked in and changed my life–I think it's amazing! The way that love can you set you free–I think it's amazing…”

  The Seattle Times was located in the immediate vicinity of the opera house. Julie only had to follow the signs after leaving the interstate.

  The headquarters of Washington’s largest daily newspaper was shockingly unimpressive. A one-storied sandstone building in John Street with a miniature park in front. Inside, there was also no awe-inspiring marble lobby awaiting them, but a rather austere reception desk ambience reflecting the simplicity of the outside facade.

  Ally absorbed every detail, starting with the smell of the printing ink to the lively atmosphere that was tingling on her skin like little needle pricks. Something was in the air, an agitation that didn’t seem to fit at all to the stoic building.

  After the lady at the reception had informed Renée McKenzie about their arrival, they got visitor passes. They hadn’t even attached them when a rushed staff member, who gave honor to her name, Holly Hunter, swept in. To Ally it sounded like a comic figure with long ears and rabbit feet, but she kept that to herself.

  After a conceivably brief greeting, Holly lead her and Julie to the second floor and sped along a never-ending hallway until they reached the office of the chief editor. The assistant announced the visitors, turned on her heel and disappeared like a vision.

  Renée was on the phone when they entered the office. She was a woman in her forties with a graying bob and thin lips. The piercing look of her icy gray eagle eyes hit Ally like a laser beam and she knew right away that she was in trouble. She knew about Renée’s anger, but she had no idea about how pissed off she really was.

  With a brisk move of her hand, she signaled them to take a seat, while arguing with someone on the other end of the line about a gappy distribution network and decreasing sales numbers.

  Ally mentally stuck a post-it to her forehead: look up ‘distribution’! She secretly hoped that Renée was mad at the guy at the end of the line, but she knew better.

  After the call had ended, Renée grumbled something, then turned to her guests. “Ally, how nice you could make it.” She glanced at Julie.“ And you are…?”

  “Julie Watson. We were nearby, that’s why I…” Instead of finishing the sentence, she shrugged.

  “I understand.” Renée turned back to Ally and sighed. It sounded like an accusation. “Ally, we have a problem,” she began and started going through the paper work on her desk.

  That much she’d figured herself.

  “This morning, I had a call from David Reynolds.” For a brief moment Renée stopped her search and looked toward her. “Does this name sound familiar?”

  Oops. Feeling uncomfortable, Ally sank deeper into the cushions of the chair. If David had called Renée, she was in deeper trouble than she assumed. Her uncle was neither known for his humor nor for his relaxed attitude. If he had found out about her working as a freelancer at the Seattle Times he would be anything but amused. Everything he couldn’t control, he pushed outside her reach like a glazed cake. As if she was going into sugar coma if she’d only nibble on it.

  He would give her hell on earth for the fact that she had taken on a side job, that’s for sure. If he would find out about the faked personal data on her CV–and there was no doubt about it he would–hell would be the least of her problems.

  “I assume you do,” Renée answered her own questions. Quietly cursing, she started going through another stack of documents.

  Ally cleared her throat. Suddenly it felt hard to speak.

  “How?”

  This one word contained a whole universe of questions: How could this happen? How did I get into this mess? How do I get out of it again? Why now? Why me?

  But foremost: How did he find out? Instinctually, Renée picket the right question.

  “I left a message for you on your answering machine this morning,” she said and opened the top drawer of her desk. “The flight was moved back one hour.”

  So, that`s it. Her guts went for a dive.

  “In the left stack under the ring binder,” she said without thinking. Damn! She had only just taken her pill. Maybe next time she should take two of them–or was their effect wearing off already? That’s just what she needed.

  Renée hesitated, then she did as told and pulled out a folder with travel information including flight tickets.

  “How…?” she began, then shook her head and turned her eagle eyes back on Ally.

  “I was quite surprised when he called,” Renée continued in a professional manner, “and had to find out that way that my adult age staff member really is a seventeen year old high school student.” She leaned forward and pierced Ally with her stare. “Does the term forgery mean anything to you?”

  No, Ally thought, that was more Julie’s department. She threw a nervous side glance at her friend. By Julie’s facial expression she could tell that she was up to something. Not good. Not good at all.

  “Does that mean I can’t go to Paris?“ she asked in a voice that vaguely resembled her own.

  “Ally, I’m going to be honest with you. Under these circumstances it isn’t just your flight that’s cancelled. I’m afraid we’ll have to put your blog on hold for now until we’ve clarified if, given the state of affairs, you can actually continue to work for us at all.”

  State of affairs? She wasn’t an illegal immigrant. She had only made herself one and a half years older. How complicated could that be?

  To her relief the melodic ringing of the telephone saved her a reply. A variety of feelings were punching themselves through the cotton wall she’d put up with the help of one of the little pink pills. It seemed they were effective after all. Only in this case they were fighting her own emotions. Nevertheless, her disappointment brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away. She wouldn’t cry in front of her boss and give her even more ammunition. Only a child cries when getting caught with the hand in the cookie jar.

  When Renée ended the conversation and looked at her expectantly, she still didn’t know what to say.

  Julie made the decision for her. She jumped up and theatrically leaned over the office desk. “Please, Mrs. McKenzie,” she whined in her best Scarlett O’Hara begging tone.

  If she pulled that one out, she was determined to wrap somebody around her finger. Mostly it worked. Julie’s father was practically helpless when his daughter hung onto his arm with that tone: Her blue eyes opened wide while pleading for gasoline money. But Daddy, otherwise I’ll have to take the bus, and who knows what could happen to me!
r />   Yeah, right. She was good at that.

  Anyway, Ally was pretty sure that this number wouldn’t go over with Renée. The chief editor was definitely made of harder stuff.

  To her horror, her friend was making her way around the desk, grabbing her bosses shoulders.

  Just perfect. If Julie was going to shake her, Renée would probably call security.

  “Ally worked her ass off day and night for this job. In this short time she’d won more fans than any other resort of your newspaper. Her blog had almost a thousand clicks today!”

  “That’s generally true,” Renée replied and pushed Julie carefully, but resolutely away from her so that she was practically sitting on her desk.

  “And think of Viktor Iwanow.”

  That’s a good one. A small spark of hope lit up and she took a deep breath.

  “In order to remedy my concerns she would need ten times as many clicks, but that’s not the point. The Seattle Times is neither a student newspaper nor an institution where you can steal your way in under the pretense of false…”

  She didn’t get any further, because Julie suddenly broke into tears.

  Oh. My. God! She was stuck in the middle of her personal nightmare and nobody came to wake her up. Time to show some initiative. Much to Renée’s relief, Ally pulled her friend off the desk and pushed her down into the visitor’s chair. Julie had buried her face in both her hands, her body quivering under suppressed sobs.

  Sobs? Ally’s brows narrowed. She knew her friend–or at least she’d thought so until just a few moments ago. This wasn’t a hysterical bundle sitting in front of her, crying her eyes out. Julie was laughing.

  “Uh…” What the hell was going on? “I apologize for…uh… modifying my age.” According to her calendar, modify was her word of the day, she should use as much as possible. And this was an excellent opportunity. “I know that wasn’t right. But I hoped if I do a good job and prove myself, you would condone it.” At some point at least. Ally cleared her throat, this was the hard part. She wanted this job more than anything else. But how could she keep it without begging? Besides, ten times as many clicks were a joke. How in the world could she rustle up that many fans in a few days?