I came to this definite conclusion at the bottom of our shower this morning. And now all I have to do is find the guts to tell her. I think. I mean, I guess she deserves to know. It’s just I don’t want her to panic. She told me she does that if she thinks about these things too much. But, Hell’s bells, I simply need to find a way without scaring her off.

I wonder what that would be. Because I can’t imagine one. This is a woman who has spent her entire life going from woman to woman. I’ve had five lovers in my life, she had five lovers last week. Well, not last week, but probably the week before Thanksgiving that was true. The fact that she hasn’t left me already is amazing in and of itself.

To talk about being in love … I don’t know.

She growls a little, crossing her arms and staring down at me, her cue that I haven’t been paying attention. Oops, that’s bad too. Focus, Kels, you have to make sure there is a later so you can tell her.

"Sorry," I offer with a weak smile. "You were saying?"

"No, I was asking." She settles down across from me, sitting backward in her chair like Kyle did. Much sexier look on her.

Stop it, Kels! Damn!

"Yes?" I lean back, playing with a pencil, rolling it between my fingers.

"If you wanted to spread anthrax, how would you do it?"

Kyle answers, arriving on the scene, taking a seat on the corner of the desk. "It’s best spread through the air, but you two probably already know that. Just thought I’d let you know that our teams have had two sightings of the nutty professor."

"And?" I watch as she perks up immediately. She loves a hot story.

"He seems to be sightseeing. He’s been spending a lot of time at the Museum of Natural History, appropriately enough. He hasn’t made one furtive movement. Not yet, at least."

"Well, he’s got a few days." I lean forward resting my elbows on the desk tapping the pencil. "Maybe he’s trying to figure out the best way to deploy it."

"Makes sense."

She reaches out and takes my toy, laying it down next to me. I forgot she hates it when I do that. Nervous tic I picked up in college. I have a right to be nervous. I have a lot of reasons to be nervous. "Too damn bad the city is on high alert. I’d love it if you could snag him and bring him in for questioning," she tells the agent without so much as a look in my direction.

"Me too," Donovan agrees with a nod. "But, under the circumstances, until he does something to give us a reason there really isn’t anything we can do. Hell, every interview room I have here is already full." He sighs, a very frustrated sigh. "I know the NYPD is having the same problem. And, from what I hear, Rikers is already so full they’re trying to figure out what they’re gonna be doing with everyone else they arrest this week."

"Terrific. No place to put the bad little boys and girls." Harper shakes her head.

"Right."

"What about from an airplane or a blimp?" I offer, trying to get the conversation back on track with a little brainstorming, before my thoughts can deteriorate with that ‘bad little girls’ comment. I’d hate to start thinking about handcuffs and …

Argh! Stop it, Kels.

"Restricted airspace," both Harper and Kyle offer at the same time, in the same bored tone. Smart asses.

"But what about those helicopter ride places in the city? How do they get around?"

Kyle shrugs. "Can’t hurt. We’ll show his picture at those places. Have them contact us if he tries to hire them."

"Ventilation systems?"

"Covered." Kyle shrugs and picks up my pencil. "Well, ladies, since there is no rest for the wicked, or the FBI, I need to get back to work. I’ll keep you posted. If you come up with anything, let me know."

"No problem," Harper agrees. "I think it’s gonna be a long couple days."


* * *

"It annoys me, that’s all," I say, sipping from the soda glass.

She nods, swallowing, before attempting to answer. "I know, but…" Her comment is cut short by the ringing of her cell phone.

I simply take another bite of my sandwich and wait, hoping its good news. The last few days have been frustrating as hell for us. Nothing like waiting for the end of the world.

"Kingsley." It’s not Kyle, I can tell by the look on her face. "Well, of course, there would be contract issues in Los Angeles that would have to be cleared up." She grins at me and lifts her eyebrows.

Oh boy, somebody is making her a better offer.

Oh shit.

They’re gonna offer her a fabulous job here in New York and she’s gonna take it. And if I tell her how I feel then, it’s gonna sound manipulative, like I’m trying to get her to stay with me. And if I don’t, she’ll leave and not know what this meant to me.

Why is my stomach dropping? I should be happy for her. She’s damn good at what she does. She deserves all the best. She should come to New York. She should be in the number one market.

Okay, Kels, buck up. Be a professional about this. You’re happy for her. You want her to have all the best. You’ve let go before. You can do it again and you can survive it again.

Remember how much it hurt the last time?

No. Don’t think like that. That was a long time ago, you’re stronger now, used to being alone. This is Harper. She deserves it, too. Just be ready to go on without her.

I try to choke down a little more of my food and not look as sick to my stomach as I feel.

She makes a few more comments then quietly snaps the cell shut. Well, that’s a first. I guess offering her a lot of money, power and prestige make her a happy camper and kind to electronics. She gives me a great big Cheshire Cat smile.

"Well, don’t you look pleased with yourself?" I hope I sound happy for her. I am happy for her. I just hate the crushing feeling in my own chest. A Mack truck didn’t park on top of me by any chance, did it?

"I am, thanks. It’s an incredible package, Kels. A major step forward. Of course, a few details need to be tweaked, but, otherwise, it’s golden."

I reach out and pat her hand, trying to keep mine from shaking. "Congratulations."

"Hey." She keeps my hand. Obviously, I’m not doing the camouflage job I thought I was. "I never said I was taking it."

"Don’t be silly. You should. These offers don’t grow on trees."

"I know that, but…."

Interrupted again. This time by my cell. Christ. For once I’d like my world to fall apart without an interruption.


* * *

Okay, I have this terrific offer on the table. A chance of a lifetime, especially for someone my age. Senior Producer with CBS, working on their premiere news magazine. It means moving to New York. It means leaving Kels. Wonder if she’d move here with me? One of the networks has to want her here. They’d be crazy not to.

I take a drink of my coffee as she takes her call. She looks at me and gives me a ‘thumbs up’ sign. Seems like something is going well for her too. This is good. This is very good. I know she wants a spot in New York. Wonder if she’d be upset if I took one too?

Nothing says we come as a team. Nothing says we ever see each other if they do hire us both. Even if we’re at the same network. Unless it’s in her contract to work with me, I could be in Siberia for all it mattered. They’d pair her up with their more seasoned producers, give her exposure, a chance to work with their best. I’ll be producing real exciting stories like the National Spelling Bee.

We’ll be in Manhattan and never see each other again. This is the perfect city to lose someone in.

Like hell.

She’s crazy if she thinks I’m giving up so easily. We don’t necessarily have to work together, but I refuse to give up on us if we’re both living in New York.

Oh shit. Beth lives in New York. Maybe she’d rather be with Beth if she moves here. Maybe that’s why she wants to move here.

Damn.

No! I refuse to think like this. My Papa’s words, "Don’t you be scared, Harper Lee," ring in my ears. Shut up and jump.

"I’ll have my agent give you a call. You’ll be hearing from her right after the New Year." Kelsey smiles triumphantly at me. She hangs up, laying her phone down on the table. "CBS," she says softly, "just made me a hell of an offer."

Same network, thank God. "Was there ever a doubt, Little Roo? They know real talent when they see it."

"Was that a dig?" she teases. ‘Talent’ is not a nice word in our profession.

"No way, sweetheart. You deserve it. It’s about damn time."

"We should celebrate."

"Absolutely. And we will, just as soon as we wrap our story." The story that could be our last one together. God, suddenly, I’m not very hungry anymore. And I sure don’t want to celebrate.


* * *

We’re standing in the middle of Times Square, by TKTS, facing the building where the ball will drop later tonight. It’s already crazy here. The millennium extravaganza includes hourly celebrations as each time zone in the world enters the year 2000. There are seven huge television screens stretched out around us, hundreds of speakers blaring music, light towers illuminating every nook and cranny in the area, and already more people than I can tolerate in one space.

Right now, the Indian subcontinent is welcoming the New Year on the big screens. And, to mark this occasion, a twenty-two foot elephant is making its way down Broadway. It’s not a real elephant, of course, but a huge puppet, propelled by a dozen workers, and is rather interesting looking. Deafening the ears is an authentic soundtrack and cascading down from the surrounding building rooftops are red streamers. This is going to be a bitch to clean up. I hope the sanitation workers’ union negotiated triple time.