media and retail invention designed to make money. You only had to listen to the ker-ching in all the stores on Valentine’s Day to work that one out.
“No. But think of the fun you’ll have in Vegas. All expenses paid. Have you been before?”
A memory flashed in her mind of the surprise trip one of her exes had booked. She was all packed and ready to go, but a last-minute work emergency had come up, and she’d insisted that he go without her rather than lose all the money he’d spent on reservations. Big mistake. Because that was the last she saw of him. He was only there for a week, and by the time he returned, he had met someone else and married her in front of an Elvis impersonator.
“I haven’t been to Vegas, and I don’t want to go now.”
“Sheridan,” Jane said softly, clearly trying a different approach. “It’s only for a few days. Surely you can suck it up and deal with it.”
“Easy for you to say,” Sheridan muttered.
“I do say. And remember to talk to the organizers. According to sales, they’re good advertisers. We don’t want to upset them.”
Sheridan bit down on her bottom lip. “Since when do you care about advertisers? I thought you were all for editorial integrity.”
At least that’s what Jane had always said when she was just a reporter, like Sheridan. They’d worked well together then. Had a lot of laughs. Sheridan had looked up to the older reporter, learning a great deal from her. Since Jane had become editor, things had changed.
Jane went red. “I am. But we still have to remember it’s advertising that enables us to put out the stories we want.”
Sheridan knew that. How could she not, living with her father? But for Jane to be concerned about it could mean only one thing. The rumors were true. Jane was out for a promotion to Managing Editor.
“Whatever,” she muttered.
Sheridan slipped her cell into her jacket pocket and then turned and headed out of the office, in shock that the day, which had started out so good, had turned into such a nightmare.
…
“Thanks, Caitlin, I owe you one,” Sheridan said as she hurriedly threw her bag into the trunk and then hopped in beside her best friend, who’d offered to give her a ride to the airport and also to take care of Pickles, the obstinate cat.
“Anytime. You’re so lucky. I could do with a few mindless days in Vegas.” Caitlin let out a long sigh.
Sheridan envied Caitlin’s laissez-faire attitude at times, and wished she could be more like her. But she couldn’t; she wasn’t made that way.
“Be my guest. Although I can assure you it will be far from mindless with what I have in mind.” She laughed.
“Tell.” Caitlin grinned as she turned the key in the ignition and pulled out. “And remember best friends don’t count in the adage ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.’”
Sheridan winced. “Ouch. Using that cliché alone means you deserve to come with me. Unfortunately, I’ll be working. I’ve been wondering how to slant my story. Whether to take a sympathetic look or to go to town and make it a real doozy. Whatever. My first job will be to check out the convention delegates. I mean, who are these romance lovers and what makes them want to attend a convention? It beats me.”
“And did you tell your editor that romance isn’t your thing?” Caitlin asked.
“No. It’s not like it would’ve changed anything. I’d still have to go.”
Caitlin laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of escapism every once in a while. I enjoy reading a good romance. Or watching a chick flick, if I’m in the mood.”
If Sheridan wasn’t so pissed about it still, she’d have laughed with her.
“Well, I’m never in the mood,” Sheridan replied adamantly, her jaw jutting out in defiance. “Anyway, I’ll give you a rundown on everything when I return.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Caitlin said as she pulled onto the highway leading to the airport. “And remember, it might be work,
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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Brenda Sinclair
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