Miles laid low that weekend which was not difficult as he did not have many friends in Sydney and was, in any case, hung over for most of Saturday. But on Monday, when he had to face the world again, his bruised eye had turned an interesting shade of yellow and purple. That area had also merged neatly with the bruising on side of his head so that, in Miles’ imagination, it seemed as if half his face was one big bruise. He wore sunglasses in the street but there was no point in maintaining a disguise while in the office.
“Miles, what have you been doing?” Kelly shrieked.
“It was an argument on philosophy. You know, Locke versus Nietzsche. Individual rights versus the deeds of the great.”
“Huh?”
“Nietzsche guy didn’t like losing.”
“Who is Nietz.. whatisit.?”
“German philosopher.”
“So did he hit you?”
“Not him,” said Miles ducking away to the tiny newsroom.
Unfortunately, the sales lady Kate had emerged from her own cubbyhole to speak to Kelly and accosted him before he could walk that vital few steps.
“Miles, have you been a bad boy this weekend?”
The reporter liked Kate and had recently opted to split the cost of a jar of coffee with her – as far as Ros was concerned the Bugle Group did not provide coffee – so he felt that he should say something. There was no need to stick to the same story, however.
“I was asking women for dates. No one told me Sydney women were so tough.”
She inspected his injuries critically. “A date, Miles? Is that ALL you were asking for?”
“As God is my witness.”
“I’ve heard that, before. It usually means you started it.”
“I never start anything.”
She sighed. “I see I’m not going to get a straight answer. I’m glad I had girls. Boys are too hard.”
He finally escaped into the news cupboard. Angela looked up briefly, raised one eyebrow over his injuries and then went back to doing nothing, without deigning to comment.
Emma also clucked over his eye, during her usual Monday afternoon visit.
“My sources say you got into a fight.”
“They started it.”
“Maybe. Tomasina has been giving Jake all kinds of hell.”
“Good!” Miles felt that Jake should be given a hard time, on principle. “They shouldn’t teach philosophy at uni, gives city folk big ideas.”
“Spare us the country crap, just be presentable for my house warming, so no fights in the next few weeks please. Anne – the girl you’re keen on – she’s coming.”
“I’m keen on Anne?”
“You are,” said Emma, firmly. “You know, she works around here.”
“She does?” Miles was interested in this information.
“She’s an administrator or an executive in one of the offices around here. Her family’s mega-rich. I think she works for her dad.”
“Oh! Okay.” Miles thought of his rented room and not-very-flash job as a journalist on the Koala Bay Bugle, and his heart sank. He thought of taking her out in his battered, orange Ford utility, and his heart sank further. He did not know much about mega-rich girls but he did not think that they went out with guys who drove rusty, orange utilities.
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up. Some guy called Allen has been sniffing around.”
“Glad to see you’re keeping an eye out for me, Ms Hawthorne.”
“Someone has to, especially with the way you’re looking now. Anyway Miley, there’ll be lots of girls at the party. No need to worry about Anne. You’ll be there?”
“Try to keep me away.”
She told him the address and left with a “bye bye Miley,” and wave, leaving a whiff of perfume and Miles alone with Angela. In the silence he could again hear his colleague’s irritating phone conversation.
“Yeah, yeah, right! … So she said to him; if you go, kid, then you’re gone… Yep! Oh no, now she’s off with some other guy… “
For the next few days, while his bruises faded, Miles did his work by phone. Another issue emerged from the printers and into the letter boxes of the thriving community of Koala Beach. He was relaxing into the job; catching the rhythm of it. But there was still a major internal issue to be dealt with, before he truly settled in, namely the sub editor’s seemingly irrational demands that he help his colleague. Late on Thursday when Miles was writing up his lead for the following week – community anger over a new no-leads policy for dogs being walked in one of the local parks – Eve rang again.
“Miles can you talk?”
Angela was always in the office earlier than Miles, and always left earlier. She never said either good morning or goodbye.
“Yes.”
“Angela’s filed another story.”
“Good as the last one?”
“Worse. I think it’s about a music store.”
“Music store? That’s new. Ros never said anything about a music store.”
“Did you remember to talk to her about that story?”
“Oh yeah, sorry, I forgot.” (Actually he had been hoping that Eve would forget about the matter.) “Just hold it over. I’ll have to do it next week. Did you talk to Justin? He really is the guy to do this. She’s gotta listen to him. Maybe she and Nathan over in Lovett Bay can go to South Forest.”
“Um, it’s that problem with Nathan that’s got me worried about Angela.”
“What’s Nathan got to do with this?”
“Ellen complained to Justin about Nathan, earlier this week,” Eve said.
“And?”
“He’s demanded Ellen write out reports and set progress goals which have to be met, or else.”
“Did he speak to Nathan?’
“Not a word, Ellen says. She was just told to lift her game.’
“So it’s all her fault, basically. Going to Jason just added to her troubles.”
“Seems so.”
“So this is why you want me to become boy trainer from the bush. But you’re chief sub, aren’t you? Do what chief subs do - yell at her that’s terrible copy, slam the phone down in her ear, then spike it. It’s just advertorial anyway. No-one else in the group is doing it – unless you count that stuff in the fashion and beauty section.”
“Don’t talk to me about the fashion and beauty section,” said Eve in an exasperated tone. “It’s just that we can’t be too negative about this.”
“Don’t want to be negative?” exclaimed Miles. “Eve, mate, from what I’ve seen of this group, a lot of it’s negative. The technical term we use in the bush is ‘fucked’. We’re very wise in the bush.”
“Exactly,” said Jenny. “You’re a real wise, homespun type, just the sort of guy we need to help trainees with copy.”
Miles had suddenly become very tired of this argument. “Look, I said I’d try once and I will but it’s a complete, total waste of time. Counter-productive if anything. She should be switched somewhere else – anywhere else.”
“Okay, just talk to her, and we’ll see. And have a word to her about her police stuff. It’s terrible and we don’t have time to rewrite it here.”
“I’d love to talk to her about her police copy, but it’s a waste of time.”
“Whatever.”
“Sure.”
Miles attempt at being an editorial counsellor was, as he had predicted, disastrous.
On Monday afternoon of the following week, just before he plunged back into the maelstrom of news generated by the community of Koala Park, Miles printed out Angela’s two stories, sent on by Eve, as well as the last set of police notes. Mustering what courage he had, stood up to speak to his colleague.
“Look, ah, Angela, have you got a moment?”
Angela’s look could have cut diamonds but she condescended to take off her earphones.
“It’s about your two stories. The panel beater one and the – um - music store piece, is it?” He made a half gesture of showing the copies to her, as if to prove that he had some authority. “Um, Eve sent these things back to me, saying that they needed more work and, well, perhaps if we..”
“WHAT!” Angela slapped the desk in front of her. “WHAT’S SHE DOING SNEAKING AROUND BEHIND MY BACK!”
“It’s hardly sneaking. She doesn’t have time to work with you on these things. I got nominated because I’m here.”
“WHAT’S THAT GOTTA DO WITH IT.. I DON’T REPORT TO YOU.”
Kelly was now looking around curiously from her desk to see what all the noise was about.
“It’s not a matter of who reports to who. I’m just trying to help. Eve wanted to try this before taking the stories to Justin...” Miles words of reason were wasted. Angela was beside herself with rage.
“WHY DIDN’T SHE TELL ME HERSELF THEY WOULDN’T GO IN THIS WEEK?”
“um, well,…” Miles suddenly realised that Eve had not bothered to tell Angela that he would speak to her about the stories. She could have at least sent an email. What a mess.
“NOW SOME FUCKING AMATEUR FROM UP WOP WOP WAY WANTS TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”
The reference to being from the bush nettled him for a moment, then he realised that the attempt was over and dropped the print outs on her desk.
“Fine! If that’s the way you feel, I’ll just tell that to Eve. You and she want to take it up with Justin.”
“DON’T WORRY I WILL!”
“Okay, you talk to Eve. I’m out. I tried.”
Angela dropped the volume from extremely loud to plain loud, but with overtones of seething hatred. “Why doesn’t Eve talk to me, huh? What’s wrong with that.”
“That’s what I told her, but she says she doesn’t have the time, and this stuff requires a lot of work.”
“There was never a problem when Jan was around.”
“That’s ‘cause no stories were getting through. Ros blocked anything interesting.”
“Jan was good at her job! Not like you!” she spat.
“Well, thanks for that, but you want to take it up with the people at South Forest. I’m out.”
“You sure are out.”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
Angela plainly wanted to hurl a few insults but Miles was not biting. He turned back to his computer and phone. So she turned back to hers, putting on her ear phones and humming elaborating to show that she did not care. Miles did not care that she did not care. The sooner Justin got off his rear end and did something about the problem the better for everyone, and he wrote an email to Eve to that effect. While he was at it he pointed out, diplomatically, that Angela should have been given some warning he would speak to her. That should end the matter, he thought.
Later in the week, Justin walked into the office. It was the first time Miles had seen him in the Koala Bay office, and he only realised the editor-in-chief was there when a shadow was cast across his desk. He was just finishing an interview.
“Justin! Hi!,” he said, turning around. “I..” It was the first time he had spoken to his boss since confronting him in the car park, which made it their third meeting. He did not get to finish the sentence.
“So you think you’re better than everyone,” snarled Justin.
“No I don’t.” Miles was both puzzled and stung by the accusation
“Shuddup and listen! You don’t have any say in Angela here.”
So that’s what all this was about.
“No I don’t, all I was doing..”
“SHUDDUP! I’m not interested. You’re just here to report. You leave her alone, with your unreasonable demands..”
“WHAT!”
“And nitpicking on copy..”
“You’re joking, I haven’t..”
“I SAID TO SAVE IT.” Justin yelled so hard that Miles, stung, stood up sharply, staring fixedly at his editor in chief and slowly turning red – a warning sign to those that knew him. Justin was forced to take a step back but kept yelling. “SHE REPORTS TO ME, NOT YOU. ANY STORIES SHE WRITES GOES TO ME. I’M NOT HAVING A JUMPED UP NOBODY WHO’S FARTED AROUND ON A COUNTRY RAG FOR A FEW MONTHS TRYING TO TELL PEOPLE HOW TO WRITE.”
“SO DOES THAT MEAN YOU’RE GOING TO DO YOUR JOB!”
The editor-in-chief thought exactly nothing of yelling at any of his journalists, but if they yelled back at him at least he did not despise them.
“I DON’T NEED WANKERS LIKE YOU TELLING ME TO DO MY JOB. WHAT I WANT IS FOR REPORTERS TO GET DOWN AND REPORT, AND LEAVE MANAGEMENT TO ME.”
“FINE. SO THAT’S WHAT I TELL EVE!”
“SHE ALREADY KNOWS.”
“NO SHE DOESN’T. WHY DON’T YOU TELL HER.”
“SHE KNOWS - I DON’T WANT TO HEAR OF THIS AGAIN.”
“SHE DOES NOT!”
Justin did not bother to reply, he abruptly turned from Miles to Angela and said, in a sweet voice, as if Miles did not exist and he had not been yelling, “I’ll call later”. She smiled at him, and Miles bit back another insult. He was suddenly suspicious that the visit had a lot to do with Angela’s charms.
Justin left as abruptly as he came. Outside Miles heard Kelly say, “Oh Mr. Brock, I just came back. Didn’t see you come in. Ros isn’t here at the moment.”
“Thank Christ for that!”
With Kelly stunned into silence, Miles could hear his editor in chief stomp down the steep stairs and out into the street. He turned his gaze back to Angela who had put her earphones back on but, aware of his gaze, stuck her index finger in the air. She started humming elaborately, looking triumphant but ignoring her colleague. Miles for his part felt the hatred welling up within him. For a moment he became almost dangerous thinking wildly of overturning Angela’s desk and shaking her. Then he took a deep breath, and the red changed to pink. Assaulting Angela would get him fired on the spot. Yelling at her was also useless; as she was immune to reason and had the backing of the editor in chief. It was intolerable.
Miles cleared his throat and stomped out of the office; Kelly looked up curiously. He got as far as the back door to the car park, then he stopped, backed up against the door jamb and hit the back of his head against it, hard. Somehow that seemed to help. He did it again. THUD! That was better. Maybe if he did it again. THUD! Ouch! Okay that was enough.
He rubbed the back of his head then walked to the beach, where a stiff wind was whipping big rollers from the sea. The Koala Beach surf never reached the heights of the surf at Bell Beach, or the beaches to the south. It was too sheltered but it had its moments. Miles stared at the rollers for a time until his own inner sea had calmed. Perhaps there were newsrooms in the city where he would not bang his head against a door jamb? Maybe he should make more of an effort to find one. A stint on the Bugle Group carried little weight in the journalistic world, he had now realised, but a stint cut short by a protest resignation would carry even less weight. So he would stay. After all, he hardly ever saw Justin, and he cared not a jot what Angela thought. He was later assured by the other reporters that his screaming match with Justin had not damaged his career prospects at the group, as he never had any in the first place.
Miles trailed into work the next morning, doing his best to ignore Angela who elaborately ignored him. Situation normal. At that point in his train of thought, Eve rang up to find out whether he had spoken with Angela.
“What is it with this place?” asked Miles, after checking out of the corner of eye, that Angela still had her ear phones on. “Don’t you guys look at your emails? Don’t you talk to one another at all down there?”
“How do you mean?”
“Yesterday, I had Justin up screaming at me because I dared to say anything to Angela about her work.”
“Oh!”
“That’s right, ‘Oh!’, and you didn’t even send her a message saying you’d told me to speak to her, so now I’m out of the mentoring business. You have to speak to Justin. He made that very clear. He also seemed to think you already understood that.”
“But what am I going to do about the stories?”
If Justin was interested in a jumble of words on panel beaters and music shops in Koala Bay they should be handed to him.
“Put them somewhere everyone can access in the system,” said Miles, patiently, “print ‘em out, write ‘Angela’s copy for attention editor in chief’ on the top, along with where they are in the system, then drop them on Bronwyn’s desk. Bronwyn only has to move the bits of paper to Justin’s desk without losing ‘em. She may be able to do that but then again, on past performance, she may not. Either way, you’re covered. If he gets them you can say that from me you understood that he was handling those stories. If he doesn’t you say you left the stuff on Bronwyn’s desk.”
“Oh okay,” said Eve brightening with the thought that she could shuffled the problem to one side. Miles hung up shaking his head.
The next call was from Jake. “You sound down in the mouth. What’s been happening?”
“Tell you when I see you but I found out what a really right bastard our beloved boss can be.”
“Tell me about it. There is a form of philosophical analysis that can be used on guys like that.”
“Yeah? What is it?”
“A boot up the bum. But listen, have you seen the latest Lovett Bay Bugle?”
“Can’t say as I have.”
“Look up the front page online, I’ll hang on.”
The front pages of all the Bugle papers were put online in the week they came out, as a further service to the community. A story at the bottom of Lovett Bay’s front page read;
YOUTH GANGS FIGHT
Two Lovett Bay youths were taken to hospital following a fierce gang fight in a video parlor in Sampson Road. The fight that has left police deeply concerned over gang violence in the area.
Police arrested two youths, both from Lovett Bay, after being called to the video parlour around 9PM in response to an 000 emergency call from the parlor on-duty manager. The youths were taken to Koala Bay hospital for treatment.
Two others, described as “older youths” by terrified witnesses, escaped despite a search of the streets and near-by businesses by police.
“Older youths!” spluttered Miles. He read to the bottom of the story. The arrested youths had been treated and released from hospital, then released from custody with a warning. As the “older youths” had not been found or identified, there was not much of a case against the pair in custody. The manager of the video store was quoted as being “terrified”, and the local police senior sergeant commented that youth violence was an increasing problem. Police investigations into the matter where continuing.
“Seems like we’re a real problem to society, mate,” said Jake.
“Seems so! We’d better give that games place a miss for a while.”
“Been thinking that. There’s a better one around here, anyway. What I can’t understand though is why take ‘em to hospital. I’m pretty sure we didn’t do much damage.”
“Procedure,” said Miles, after a moment’s thought. “You can’t have injured people in police custody without doing something to treat them, so they got taken to hospital. The guy whose foot you trod on w’d have to have a scan just so the cops are covered if he tries to sue.”
“Sounds if we’ve been laying into ‘em with iron bars..”
“Whatever. But mate, we‘ve gotta agree on one thing.”
“Just one thing?”
“Our future social outings are to be respectable. No messing with the local wild life. If someone wants a seat on the Daytona machines, let ‘em have it.”
“Sounds fair,” said Jake. “This weird Aussie-rules code game on Saturday is a good bet for the philosophically inclined.” Jake and Miles had been to a practice and, thanks to a number of team members moving on, had managed to get spots in the side. “I’ll indulge my natural masculine instincts for aggression then.”