The Plan Advances

KATIE

Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines…

Fucking politics.

I need a nicotine break.

No, Katie, no. People need to know about to current fiscal budget of…

Fuck. I almost fell asleep myself.

This is your dreamjob, right? Writing about politics for the Washington Post? Why are you groaning about it? You should nerd it up with these fiscal reports! I mean you know everything about them, get to it! Throw the reader every single useless fact you’ve learned! And then make it somehow meaningful! In three paragraphs!

…

Maybe it was this president? I mean… I wanted him to get elected but… Jesus Christ he was a bore. At least compared to the last one.

With that guy there was always the feeling of another Watergate in the air. The newsroom was always hustling and bustling. Well, maybe we never got any real Watergates… but at least it felt like we were doing something!

God! Give me another scandal! I’m dying here!

Anything will do! My kingdom for a disgruntled staffer!

RRRIIIING! RRIIING!

Could it be? Would the God of scandals grant me one?

Call me naïve, but being a reporter for the Post, it still practically got my pussy flowing when my phone suddenly rang. I mean it obviously rang all the time, but there was always that slight, remote possibility that the caller would be some deep level insider, about to dump the biggest scandal of-

Oh. It was just Lana.

For fuck’s sake. I’ve told her not to call me here during the working hours.

She probably had no idea what the word “busy” even meant, working for that shitty little fashion magazine of hers.

Stop it Katie, you’re being snooty again. Lana’s doing her best. And the magazine isn’t that small. It’s just that she writes about pointless stuff like fashion, while I’m here literally changing the world.

RRIIING! RRRRRIIIIIINGGG!

Uggggh. Really? It’s that important? I hope to God she doesn’t want to chit chat, I don’t want my editor yelling in my face again for missing the crucial deadlines.

Headline: They were all “crucial” deadlines.

Fine. I’ll pick it up. I’ll be the good sister.

Just as long it isn’t any of her drama. I really can’t stand that.

Hard to believe she’s actually the older sister.

“Hi, sis! What’s up? I’m sure you’re aware, I’m quite busy.”

I wouldn’t stop writing this article just because she called. In fact I hoped she heard the clickety clack of the keyboard.

“H-Hi, how are… how are things?” She spoke, sounding uncharacteristically timid.

“Uh, you know… work work work. You know they really don’t appreciate me taking personal calls here.”

That was emphasized by Tom, our oldest reporter, giving me the stink eye from the desk opposite to me.

Please die already, you old bastard. Just let the new generation come and destroy everything you hold dear, you fucking dinosaur.

“It’s… It’s not really a personal call, I’ve… Well, I…”

What was this? She had trouble speaking her mind? Was Hell freezing over?

“We haven’t really talked in a while, have we? What’s going on, big sis? You got a new man in your life or something?”

“Uh, I…”

“I know the last time the break was this long was because you were shacking up with that dude for a month or something. Then you guys broke up and you made me listen to you whine about it for months after that. Oh God. It didn’t happen again, did it? You already broke up? Fuck, Lana! Stay away from that bar, it always leads to this!”

“No no, it’s not that! It… I’m not dating anyone…”

…Wasn’t she? I felt a tingle in my spine. My reporter’s instincts perked up. There was something she wasn’t telling me.

I was sufficiently interested. Enough to stop typing my article, and actually listen to her.

“Lana? What’s… going on then?”

There was a small silence.

“You… You know Maria Diamanti, right? …My boss? The owner of the magazine?”

“Aha. Yeah.” I guess you could say Maria was a celebrity in the print industry. Not that much elsewhere. I knew she owned other magazines besides Mirage, but Mirage was the most successful one.

Wait… was Lana… crying? Seriously? What the Hell?

“Lana. Please tell me what’s going on. Right now.”

“I’ve been…” she had trouble talking through the tears. Oh boy. “I’ve been sexually harassed by… Maria Diamanti.”

…

But… Lana wasn’t gay? But then again, did that matter here?

I was speechless. I mean usually I’d start asking journalist-like questions right now… but… this was my own sister.

Oh man.

“No. Let me say it clearer. I’ve been sexually abused by Maria Diamanti. And… I’m not the only one.”

…

I hated being speechless like this.

Come on, Katie! Say something! She’s your sister for God’s sake!

“A-Are you al-alright?”

“Yes. But Katie. You need to let people know. This needs to be news.”

She wasn’t crying anymore. She was steeling herself up.

…News? Like a reverse MeToo? Well, not actual reverse, but female boss… Holy fuck that was rare. Definitely interesting stuff.

But… is it “Washington Post” stuff?

I mean I know why she would call me, but…

I could feel both sides of my identity ripping me apart, the journalist inside wanted to make this into a story, but the sister in me…

“Lana. Stop. Listen. Do you really want this… publicly known? I mean it could change your life, and…”

“I’ve got video material too.”

Fuck. I needed to take that nicotine break. Right now.

GRETCHEN

Focus.

Gretchie, focus.

What? Gretchie? Now he has me calling me that inside my head as well?

Nevermind. I just want him to **** me again and-

Focus.

Can’t play with pussy right now.

Maria freaking Diamanti was handing me a glass of some finely aged scotch.

Play the part of a normal woman. Normal, proper woman. Like you were a few weeks ago.

It was odd, but… I did not miss those times anymore. Not one single bit.

Once you surrender to the pleasure-

“Drink.”

Oh right.

Me and Maria both shared a drink. In her swanky apartment.

This was the third time I had ever come here.

“Whuh. That’s really… strong stuff,” I exhaled.

“Yeah. It’s my darling. The more bitter, the better.”

I used to think she was just an awkward woman. People thought she was cold, but sometimes I could see the warm personality that she held inside. Like this.

Well, that was until master told me what she did. Kidnapped him. Nearly killed him.

Now I just thought she was a psychopath. And… She wasn’t the same anymore. I know she helped me start my career, but… I felt no warm feelings towards her now.

She deserved the downfall that was coming.

The artificial fireplace was giving us a nice atmosphere, though. That, the scotch, the endless modern art everywhere… You’d think this was the life.

I used to want this. Now I just wanted master’s hand around my throat while he fucked someone.

For example… Maria’s daughter.

“So, is… Gloria home?” I asked tentatively.

“Huh? Yeah. She should be. Always locking herself in her room,” Maria answered me while looking up from the papers.

I couldn’t blame Gloria for not wanting to see me here.

Once master had left, I tried to pick up her exhausted body from my desk.

She just hissed at me.

She wouldn’t want to be here anyway. Scotch was for adults.

The drink I squirted down her throat was the only bitter drink a brat like her needed.

“Okay,” Maria said, laying down the papers back on the living room table.

“So… what do you think?”

“Honestly… They all seem great. Really do. I cannot find any immediate issues.”

Wow. I didn’t expect that.

When master told me to gather all the hidden ideas I had for making the magazine better and presenting them to Maria, in an excuse to meet her… I didn’t actually expect her to like them! I mean the reason I’ve never shared them was because I wasn’t that sure about them…

“It’s just…” Maria suddenly continued. “You’re doing great work. For sure. There’s just currently an issue I have. It’s taking all my concentration. Present this stuff to me later. When I can really focus.”

Okay. Yes. This was it. Time to change the subject.

“Is it about… Jack?”

She gave me a mean sideways glare. I hit the bullseye.

“I don’t get it. Can’t we just… fire him?” I asked.

Maria scoffed. “No. We can’t.”

“…Why not?”

“Please. You should know why.”

“No, I really have no idea.”

Maria sighed. “I know about the federal agents, Gretchen. The ones that convinced you to give Jack a passing grade on his article.” Maria finished her glass of scotch with one, swift move.

Oh yes. Master told me about this.

There was only one strategy to use here.

I looked away, acting embarrassed. “I… I really can’t talk about that…. Maria. It would be… Illegal.”

Maria looked like an idea just popped into her head.

“Hey, what did the agents look like? What were their names? You don’t need to tell me any more than that.”

“I… I really can’t… and I think I’m breaking the law just by… saying that.”

Maria gave me her patented, intense stare.

The stare that would make anyone crumble.

Normally, yeah, it would have worked on me too. Worked plenty of times.

But these days? I would rather die than betray master.

After what felt like a small eternity, she finally gave up.

“Fine. I know the truth after tonight anyway.” She muttered.

“What?”

“Nevermind. Just… Understand that the whole thing with that… Is the reason Jack cannot be fired. For now.”

I nodded silently.

I waited for just enough time, to lift my head, and say…

“Well, if we can’t fire him… We can still make his life Hell… right?”

Maria visibly perked up.

I picked up the bottle of scotch and poured a shot into her empty glass.

This was going to be a long night.