Myths, Murder & Love

Thallia Laskari shifted the paper bag against her hip and pushed through the revolving doors of the Chicago Chronicle. At five-foot-eight, Thallia rarely disappeared into a crowd, and navigating a revolving door with lunch balanced against one curvy hip required more coordination than she'd expected. She caught the next opening, stepped into the lobby, and pushed a fall of dark brown hair over her shoulder. Surprising Trevor with lunch had seemed like a good idea when she'd passed his favorite deli a few blocks away. He'd canceled dinner twice that week, so stealing an hour with him in the middle of the day felt like a reasonable compromise. Besides, she was already downtown. The receptionist looked up as Thallia approached the front desk and greeted her with a smile. "Hi, Thallia. Trevor expecting you?" "Not unless he's developed psychic abilities." Thallia lifted the bag slightly. "I brought lunch." Denise glanced at the deli logo and laughed. "In that case, you're probably his favorite person today." Thallia smiled. "I'd settle for top three." "I think the pastrami moves you up the list." Denise pointed toward the elevators. "You remember how to find him?" "Fourth floor and turn left?" Thallia asked. "You've got it," Denise said. "Thanks, Denise." Thallia headed toward the elevators, pleased that the surprise hadn't been ruined before she'd even made it upstairs. She'd only visited Trevor at the Chronicle a couple of times. Most evenings he came to her apartment, settling onto the couch while she worked and reading whatever draft she handed him. He'd bring dinner when she forgot to eat or show up with some little thing she'd mentioned and forgotten. Last month it had been a ridiculous ceramic frog she'd laughed at in a shop window. It now sat beside her computer holding paper clips in its mouth. They'd only been together six months, and Thallia wasn't planning forever. She liked what they had. Trevor was thoughtful, easy to be around and never pushed for more than she was ready to give. For now, that was enough. The elevator doors opened, and Thallia stepped into the Chronicle newsroom. She paused long enough to remember which direction Denise had given her, then turned left and worked her way past rows of desks. Phones rang around her, keyboards clicked, and a man near the copy desk was passionately arguing that somebody had ruined a perfectly good headline. Trevor's office came into view halfway down the row. His door was partly open. Perfect. Thallia shifted the lunch bag behind her back, although she had no idea who she thought she was fooling. Trevor would probably smell the pastrami before she made it through the door. A woman's laugh drifted from his office. Thallia recognized Bianca Russo's voice from the Chronicle's online videos. Trevor had company. So much for the dramatic surprise. Thallia was deciding whether to knock or simply stick her head around the door when Bianca laughed again. This time, something about Bianca's laugh made Thallia pause. It was softer than the polished laugh she'd heard in the Chronicle's videos. More intimate. Thallia moved the last few steps toward the doorway. Trevor stood beside his desk. Bianca was in his arms. Thallia stopped. Trevor's hand rested comfortably against Bianca's waist while Bianca's fingers curled behind his neck. Before Thallia could make sense of what she was seeing, Trevor lowered his head and kissed her. Thallia stood frozen in the doorway as Trevor and Bianca remained wrapped around each other. That was what registered before anything else. Neither of them seemed surprised by the kiss. There was no awkwardness, no startled retreat after a moment that had gone somewhere it shouldn't. Bianca was comfortable in his arms. Familiar with them. The paper bag crumpled beneath Thallia's fingers. Before she realized what was happening, the bottom tore open and two takeout containers crashed onto the floor. The sound seemed to come from farther away than it should have. Heat rushed into Thallia's face, followed by a sickening drop in her stomach. For a few seconds, the office narrowed to Trevor's hand at Bianca's waist and Bianca's fingers still resting against his shirt. Trevor jerked toward the sound. His expression changed the instant he saw her. "Thallia, what are you doing here?" Trevor demanded. Bianca pulled away and glanced toward the doorway. Thallia couldn't answer. Trevor was wearing the same blue shirt he'd had on that morning when he'd stopped at her apartment with coffee for himself and hot chocolate for her. Before leaving, he'd kissed her cheek and promised to call later. Now she knew where he'd been going. Bianca's expression changed as recognition replaced surprise. "Thallia." Hearing her own name from Bianca stopped her. They had never met. Thallia set the torn remains of the lunch bag on the nearest chair. "You know who I am?" Trevor moved toward the doorway, putting himself between Thallia and the open newsroom. "This isn't the place for this conversation." Thallia stared at him. "You were kissing her." Trevor lowered his voice. "Bianca and I have history. She's been under a lot of pressure over a story, and she came in here upset. I was trying to calm her down, and an old relationship crossed a line it shouldn't have." Bianca stared at him. "An old relationship?" Trevor's attention snapped toward her. "Bianca, let me handle this." Her expression hardened. "You told me you weren't sleeping with her." Trevor kept his attention on Bianca. "We aren't sleeping together." Bianca's eyes narrowed. "That's not what I meant, and you know it." Trevor stepped toward her. "This isn't helping." "You told me she understood what this was." Thallia looked between them. Trevor kept his attention on Bianca. "We aren't sleeping together." Bianca held his gaze for a moment, then stepped around him. "Of course I know who you are." Thallia glanced at Trevor. His attention shifted between Bianca and the open newsroom, as if he were calculating which problem needed containing first. The kiss was no longer the only thing that didn't make sense. "How do you know me?" Thallia asked. Trevor reached for her arm. "Thallia, let's go somewhere private." She moved out of reach. "I asked her a question." Bianca walked to Trevor's desk and picked up the newspaper beside his computer. "I've read your work." Thallia stared at her. "What work of mine have you read?" "Don't show her that." Trevor crossed the office quickly. Bianca picked up the newspaper before he reached her. "Put that down," Trevor demanded. She turned it toward Thallia instead. Thallia recognized the photograph immediately. Morning sunlight spilled across a glass display case filled with doughnuts. Angelo Moretti stood behind it, smiling as he had when Thallia photographed him twelve days earlier. She took the paper from Bianca. Her photograph covered nearly half the page. Bianca Russo's name appeared beneath the headline. Trevor had called two nights ago to tell Thallia the Chronicle passed on the story. He'd been kind about it. He always was. Her stomach rolled again. Thallia opened the paper wider and read the first paragraph. The opening paragraph was hers. She turned the page and found another of her photographs. "Trevor told me this was rejected." Bianca rested one hip against the desk. "The Chronicle didn't reject it." Trevor came around beside Thallia. "This is more complicated than she's making it sound." Thallia shifted away from him and kept reading. Her interviews were there. The history she'd spent hours researching was there. Even the closing paragraph she'd rewritten after Trevor suggested the original ending wasn't strong enough had survived almost word for word. She lowered the paper. "How long have you been using my work?" Bianca straightened. "Several months." Thallia folded the newspaper back to the front page and stared at Bianca's name. Several months covered nearly every article Trevor had offered to submit for her. "What about my piece on the bookstores?" Bianca nodded. Thallia tightened her fingers around the paper. "And the farmers market?" Bianca nodded again. Thallia didn't need to ask about the others. Trevor stepped closer. "Those pieces weren't going to be published under your name." Thallia turned toward him. "How would you know?" His hesitation was slight, but she caught it. She placed the newspaper on his desk. "Did you ever submit any of my articles under my name?" Trevor walked behind the desk and nudged his chair aside. "You don't understand how freelance submissions work here." "Then explain it." Trevor offered no explanation. Thallia turned toward Bianca. "Did anyone at the Chronicle ever see my name attached to any of them?" Bianca reached for her purse, then seemed to reconsider leaving. "They never saw your name," Bianca said. Thallia gripped the edge of Trevor's desk. She remembered sitting at her kitchen table while he read the bookstore piece. He'd made two suggestions, kissed the top of her head and told her he thought she had a real chance with that one. Three days later, Trevor had arrived with Thai food and the news that they'd passed. He'd stayed while she tried to figure out what she'd done wrong. He had known there was nothing wrong with it. Thallia released the desk and faced him. "Why?" Trevor loosened his collar. "Bianca already had an established byline. You didn't. I was getting your work through the door." Thallia stared at him. "Under her name." Trevor spread his hands. "I was building a track record for your work. Once editors knew the material could perform, I could start positioning you." Bianca gave a short, humorless laugh. Trevor's eyes cut toward her. "Stay out of this." Thallia looked between them. "Was that ever the plan?" Bianca answered before Trevor could. "He never planned to put your name on them." Trevor's jaw tightened. "Bianca, shut your mouth." Bianca didn't flinch. "You told me her name would never get past editorial." Thallia looked at Trevor. His expression told her Bianca had just said something she wasn't supposed to know. Bianca picked up her purse. "I never agreed with how far he took this." Trevor's head snapped toward her. "Bianca, I’m warning you." She pulled the strap onto her shoulder and glared at him. "Don't you dare threaten me." Thallia watched them. That single exchange carried a familiarity she hadn't noticed when she'd first walked through the door. Thallia focused on Bianca. "What didn't you agree with?" Bianca's attention settled on Trevor. "Your relationship with him." Trevor came out from behind his desk. "That's enough." Bianca didn't move. "I knew where the articles came from. Trevor told me you wanted to break into the Chronicle, and this was how he was handling it." Thallia stepped closer to Bianca. "You knew he was taking my name off them." Bianca held her gaze. "I knew he was removing your name." There was no apology in the answer. At least Bianca wasn't insulting her with one. Thallia glanced between them. Trevor was watching Bianca now, not her. She turned back to Bianca. "What didn't you know?" Bianca adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder. “He told me you understood the arrangement." Thallia waited. Bianca looked directly at her. "I didn't know he'd convinced you the relationship was real." Trevor moved between them. "Bianca, leave. Now." Thallia stepped sideways so she could still see Bianca. "How long have you two been together?" Bianca held her gaze. "Almost five years." A short laugh escaped Thallia. She covered her mouth, startled by the sound. Nothing about this was funny. Bianca had been with Trevor for nearly five years. Her fingers began to shake around the edge of the newspaper. Thallia had known Trevor for eight months. He'd asked her to dinner six months ago. Bianca had already been part of his life for years. Trevor dragged a hand across his jaw and walked toward the window. The nights he'd canceled because something happened at the Chronicle suddenly made sense. So did the family emergencies that appeared whenever they were supposed to spend a weekend together, followed by gentle apologies delivered with flowers or breakfast. Even the slow pace of their relationship looked different now. Thallia had thought Trevor was being careful with her, respecting the boundaries she'd set and never pushing for more. Now Bianca stood in his office after kissing him with the ease of a woman who had never needed to wonder whether Trevor wanted her. Thallia let go of the chair. He hadn't wanted her. He'd wanted access to her work. Thallia crossed to Trevor's desk and picked up the newspaper. Her hands were still shaking, but she folded it carefully and tucked it beneath her arm. Trevor watched her. "What are you doing?" Thallia faced him. "Taking my work with me." She turned to face him. For six months, she'd trusted the man standing in front of her. Now she wasn't certain she'd ever known him at all. Thallia held his gaze. "Was any of it real?"