Chapter Text
New York City. 1992. The Herald Office.
Nancy Wheeler pushed through the doors of the bullpen of the Herald’s office, her heels clicking fiercely across the linoleum floors. Her coworkers bustled about at desks, furiously typing at keyboards, heads bent over articles as they argued over what angle to take on the story; the trill of phones ringing was a constant. Even though she had worked here for the last five years, the exhilaration of the atmosphere had never waned. Every morning when she stepped through those doors, she felt the importance of it all, that she was part of something bigger than herself. Even though the big stories were never assigned to her, the never-ceasing heartbeat of news and the relentless pursuit of a story were addictive to be around.
She set down her coffee onto her desk, tendrils of steam curling up towards the stack of papers that were heaped across her desk. Falling onto her chair, she drew herself in towards the papers. Nancy flipped through them, her chest sinking as she made her way through the pile. Each paper was a potential story for the day, something she could write about. And even though she had worked there for years, and had watched her male colleagues rise through the ranks far quicker than she could imagine, she was always assigned the fluff pieces.
Another celebrity in rehab, another celebrity couple got divorced, the Yankees won… again. She wanted to groan just reading them. This wasn't the type of journalism she had envisioned for herself. She knew she was capable of so much more than backpage gossip columns that people would read while on the toilet or waiting for an appointment in a doctor's office.
She was suddenly drawn out of her thoughts with a startle as a tender hand fell onto her shoulder. She instantly spun around and was met by a handsome face- clean-shaven, dark hair cropped short, wearing a crisp suit.
“Hey, Nance.” said Matt, confidently leaning against the wall against her desk. She gave him a small smile to greet him.
Nancy and Matt had been seeing each other for a few months outside of work. It had happened quickly, but they had fallen into an easy routine with one another. They had worked together for a few years-- he was a senior editor for the paper and was well-respected in the office. Nancy had never really taken much notice of him until one day when Matt had offered to walk her home, as she’d forgotten to bring an umbrella, and there was a terrible storm that had hit the city. She'd initially declined in her polite kind of way, but he'd insisted that her apartment was only a few blocks and he had an umbrella he could share.
She had never really looked at him as anything other than a coworker before that day, just saw him as another one of the arrogant men who looked down on her journalistic ability and writing. And perhaps it was because the loneliness of a new city had finally caught up with her, or that a good-looking man was offering to walk her home, that she had agreed. On the walk home, huddled under his umbrella, they’d spoken about the weather, the stories, real stories, that he was working on, and by the time they’d reached the steps of her brick townhouse, there was a spark of attraction between them.
Matt pulled the stack of papers from her hands and swiftly flipped through.
“Well, these all look boring.” he muttered before throwing them back down onto her desk. “I’m working on this insane homicide story– three bodies, the police have no idea who did it.”
Nancy felt her attention begin to drift from his words, the familiar whine of jealousy pulling at her throat. She studied him there, the confidence in his posture, the drawl of his New York accent tugging at his words, not a care in the world. Sometimes she liked this about him, the carefree way in which he seemed to move with ease through life. He was paid well, lived in a cushy apartment on the Upper East Side, got invited to golf with their boss on the weekends and would come back with promotions. But other times, it was suffocating. Like he was so unaware of how truly lucky he was.
“Nance?” Matt said, waving a hand in front of her face. He snapped back into focus, and she cleared her throat, muttering an apology about how she hadn't slept well the night before. He chuckled softly. “I was saying, we have a reservation for dinner at Tony’s tonight. Wear something pretty, won’t you?”
She smiled sweetly. Tony’s was her favourite Italian place, and he’d taken her there a handful of times.
“Sounds lovely,” she grinned, taking his hand under the desk so none of their coworkers could see. “I’ll be there.”
He winked at her and began to walk away before he swung back around to face her, as if he’d remembered something all of a sudden.
“You know, if you’re not sleeping well at your place, you could always move in with me.”
The words struck her straight in her core. The thought of moving in with him hadn’t even crossed her mind. She hadn’t even considered them to be a serious couple. Not serious enough to move in with at least. She felt heat rise in her cheeks as she tried her best to muster a smile.
“I’ll think about it.” she managed, her words sounding strained against her lips. Matt must not have noticed her reluctance, as he grinned, clearly pleased with himself, before turning around and disappearing into the buzz of the office.
She willed herself to draw in a deep breath, turning back to face her desk. To be fair, she had been struggling to keep up with her rent in her apartment, with her single income. Her neighbourhood was dodgy, and having to walk home alone at night always sent chills down her spine. Maybe living with him wouldn’t be such a bad idea. It would make things more comfortable. But hadn’t she moved away from Hawkins to be someone who wasn’t tethered to a man? She shook her head of the thought. She wasn’t going to give up her freedom for the first man she’d dated. She still had to make something of herself; that was the promise she’d made to herself.
Shifting her attention back to the stories on her desk, she eyed them more carefully this time. She was certain there had to be something salvageable in there somewhere. Even more celebrities in rehab, a Hollywood sex scandal, more sports drivvle…
And then her eye caught on a line— an indie movie premiere screening at a downtown venue. Critics are divided over what some have called a ‘shocking’ and ‘sickening’ film, while others revere it as the next upcoming hit. The director will be at the premiere to answer questions.
There it was; this was her story. Nothing life-changing, but still something, she told herself. She shot up, grabbing her coat slung over her chair and her notebook before hurrying across the bullpen and out onto the bustling city street.