Chapter Text
The sound of the pen hitting the floor seemed to echo through the quiet room.
He stared passed the corner of his desk, your boss, presumably wondering if you intended to pick it up. But you didn’t, instead continuing to stare at him in complete shock, with a slight mix of horror.
“You can’t be serious.”
Eyes raising back up to you, he leaned back in his chair.
“I was never known to be a joker.”
You searched his expression as if waiting for the joke to appear in his eyes, but you knew that the truth was in his words.
“You want me to do a whole piece on Richmond,” You said, more of a statement than a question. He tilted his head towards his shoulder.
“No,” He said simply. “I want you to do a piece on Jamie Tartt.”
Your eyes rolled up to the ceiling as you shook your head. This was the last thing you had expected him to say when you were called into his office this evening, and it ended up being worse than you possibly imagined.
“I’ve made my opinion of him quite clear,” You reminded him. “To you and the readers-“
“Which is why this is the perfect scenario,” He cut you off. Leaning back in his chair and resting his folded hands over his abdomen, he eyed you. “Crimm is gone. Lasso is gone. A Miss Keely Jones called and requested a piece on Richmond. Something more… personal. She said she wants to remind people of what the team is without Lasso. But I suggested that we make it about Tartt.” He shrugged. “And I had the perfect journalist in mind to write it.” You pointed a finger at him.
“Crimm’s gone because you fired him.”
This time, his smile was strained.
“You and I both know why I had to do that.” He had a warning in his tone, telling you to not go down this road with him again.
You knew saying that wouldn’t really fix the predicament you were in. It just felt nice to argue, in the moment.
It had been a few years since you had joined The Independent as a pop culture journalist, and definitely not a sports writer. However, with Tartt’s exploits in the media, such as his stint on Lust Conquers All and his overall reputation as a complete arsehole, you had plenty of opportunity to write about him outside of the world of footie.
And write about him, you did.
Though you could count the amount of articles you had written about him on one hand over the course of two years, you had become known by fans solely based on your dislike of Tartt. The opinions by the readers was a mixed bag, but it had become clear that they enjoyed the squabble.
“I can’t go from talking rubbish about him to doing a piece on him,” You retorted.
“That there is why this is my most brilliant idea,” He said with no effort to hide his triumph. “The readers will fucking eat this up.”
You stared at the corner of his desk. It was clear that nothing you said would get you out of this.
“So, what does this entail?” Your voice was monotonous, eyes still on the wooden corner. Despite your gaze not being on him, you could sense the arrogant smile on his face.
“You’ll spend a week with the team,” He explained. “Two if you need more time. You’ll go to the next two matches. Interview with Jamie is a must, but maybe get the rest of the team if you can.” A press pass was slid across the table towards you. A defeated look crossed your face as you stared at it.
“When do I start?”
When your gaze found him once more, he smiled at you with deep amusement.
“Tomorrow.”