The Billionaire’s Favorite Journalist

RITA’S POV Traffic on Seventh Avenue is the bane of my living in this city. Sometimes I have questioned my choice of moving here. Each time, I have arrived at this answer: who doesn’t want to come to New York? It is the Big Apple, after all. Just as Los Angeles is the city of dreams for actors, screenwriters, and that entire crowd, so is New York the city of dreams for fashionistas, Broadway singers, and artists. The traffic moved a little and my driver found a freeway, where he turned and sped off. We sped past a group, taking turns posing and taking photos in front of graffiti on the wall. It brought back memories. And I have sometimes joked about a change of career, but can I be anything else other than a journalist? I have watched my father scour through newspapers and magazines, debate current affairs, and speak proudly about how journalists are saving our civilization by exposing corruption and corrupt systems. My dad is the one source of inspiration for me and his love for the news and journalists fueled and birthed the desire to choose this career. The taxi stopped by the curb at the front of the high-rise building that was my office complex. His loud reggae music and quiet persona allowed me to wallow in my thoughts. He looked at me repeatedly as he took his fare; I almost left my purse as I hurried to move away from his roving eyes. ‘Good afternoon ma’am.’ It was the shrill, prepubescent voice of the porter, a young man in college who doubles as a security officer for our office complex. He opened the door wide for me and doffed his cap in the process. Though he has grown a beard, his voice still bears the marks of his teenage years. ‘Good afternoon Jeffery.’ It is a large building that consists of different businesses on the first two floors and four apartments on the third floor. Mine is the popular New York Starlight, and I was assigned to the mystery and celebrity gossip segment. New York is a city of culture and scandals and having a finger on all the goings-on in the showbiz world makes one a celebrity. I strode to the elevator. Already, a lot of other media outfits, including microblogging sites, have their eyes on sharing the spotlight. However, our new CEO, Mr. Alamedha, thinks we should be going in a different direction. Somehow, I agree with him because pursuing celebrity gossip is tiring and often fruitless. It was the dinging sound of the elevator that announced my arrival on the second floor. Maya was waiting for me at the door. She was giddy with excitement. ‘We have something big coming up, and I want you to be the lead.’ ‘Good afternoon Maya.’ ‘We have had an opportunity to exchange pleasantries before.’ Maya said with a swipe of her left hand. Matching my every step, she continued. ‘We have a big fish to fry. And you know what’s so exciting about this?’ She didn’t wait for me to answer before she continued, ‘The story came to us. We didn’t go to the story.’ I stopped in my tracks, wondering what the hell she was talking about. ‘We have someone in the conference room willing to talk to us about Andy Solomon.’ ‘Which Andy Solomon?’ I started walking again. Maya trailed behind. ‘Girl! Has a coffee break taken away your memory?’ I knew who it was she was referring to, but that name has been brought up so many times that I no longer wished to hear of him anymore. ‘You are doing this story, Rita. Get that into your head.’ I sunk into my chair in my cubicle, swirled around, and faced Maya who had sat on the opposite chair. ‘Maya, we need to get our acts together and get money into this place else Alamedha will do as he had threatened. Last time, he threatened to cut off our budget.’ Maya showed irritation on her face and flung her hands. ‘Don’t mention that guy’s name here. He doesn’t scare me.’ Maya said. ‘You better be, because you and I are about to lose our jobs if we don’t bring in sponsorship deals and followers.’ ‘Rita, I promise you, this story will bring more than that. This is a story that has been cooking for a while, and now it is time to dish it out.’ ‘And it is another disgruntled, brokenhearted girl who will serve it like it's hot.’ ‘Yeah’. Maya nodded, it looked sarcastic to me. ‘Come one, Maya. This is serious.’ ‘I am dead serious, my darling. You are not the only one with bills to pay. I have a nine-year-old and the rent is almost due. So my ass is on the line here as well. Beyoncé’s last tour was the last big thing you covered. That seemed like ages ago, in the age of social media we live in. Coachella is the next big thing, and it's still six months away.’ Unfortunately, Maya was right. I had the privilege of asking Queen Bey a few questions, even going behind the scenes, to watch her prepare for each performance. And ever since, no big news has come to light. My usual sources have no new story for me. They may have been bought over by other media outlets. Maya had stopped talking. Her face stood icy cold and dead serious. ‘Alright. Tell me about this story and what you want me to do.’ ‘It is Andy Solomon of Solomon holding.’ ‘..¦the biggest landowner in New York?’ ‘..¦the same person. There has been gossip that he uses women for s****l pleasure. Remember that he had several lawsuits filed against him in the last five years and though he hasn’t been convicted, more women are saying the same thing.’ ‘As I said earlier, it could just be the case of broken-hearted women trying to get one last chance at fame before they go into obscurity. We all know this guy is a Casanovaâ.’ ‘..¦but we don’t all know that he might be a smuggler or drug trafficker.’ ‘Those are preposterous, Maya. None of the suits filed against him specified any of such.’ ‘We never know. After all, the courts don’t sue; individuals sue because they feel slighted about a particular issue.’ ‘So, who is this person in the conference room willing to talk about Andy Solomon?’ ‘His girlfriend of sixteen months.’ ‘Wow! She stayed that long?’ ‘Exactly!’ Maya said, pointing a finger at me while she gave me a knowing look. ‘How do we know that what she says is going to be true? We can’t take a c**k-and-bull story and post it?’ ‘That is where we get to the next step: ask Andy for an interview.’ It took a moment for it to register. ‘You don’t mean that, do you?’ ‘You asked a while ago how we would know if what this lady will tell us is true. We would be in the wrong of the law if we just published what this lady says without asking about his side of the story.’ ‘You know him. Would he be willing to grant an interview about his private life?’ ‘There are ways to persuade him. But it begins with this talk with this lady, and you are the best person for the job.’ I still wasn’t buying it, and she sensed it. ‘This is our chance, Rita. We have to get this right and put that bald-faced Almedha Perez in his place. He is no journalist after all.’ I couldn’t hold up my laugh. ‘How can you call someone bald-faced?’ ‘Doesn’t he look the part?’ Maya joined in the laughter. After a moment, she asked. ‘Are we good?’ ‘Let’s go get this story!’