Birthday Girl

by Kimber Davis

Chapter One

Angie Hoyt was angry. Not that she could do anything about what made her angry, but it felt good to be mad, just the same. She couldn’t yell at her boss, because that would get her fired, and she couldn’t really yell at the person she was angriest with, because her boss would hear, and that could get her in trouble, too. So she sat, and stewed, and listen to the two of them discuss what would inevitably control her life for the next week.

She didn’t want to go out on assignment, especially when it took her so far away from Austin. This week was special to her, and always had been for as long as she could remember. Dinners and lunches with friends, culminating with a big party on her actual birthday, which fell on a Friday this year. She would have to miss all that, simply because of a story idea that would lead absolutely nowhere.

When the conversation at the table quieted, she held up her hand. “I’d like to have a say in this discussion, if I might.”

Her boss, Martin Ward, nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I vote no on this. It’s a nowhere idea, and will be a waste of my week.”

Next to Martin, the photojournalist who had brought up the idea, George Bales, shook his head.

“On the contrary, this is a great idea. This is the twenty-fifth anniversary of the disappearance of the biggest bank robber in Texas history. Give us a week to track him down, follow his trail, see if we can find him. It’s brilliant, and even if we can’t find where he went, it will be a huge ratings draw.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a huge draw, George, go on the hunt and lose. Great storyline.”

George narrowed his eyes at her and then winked. “This will be fun. We’ll phone in live reports each night from wherever we are. And then, after that, we’ll do a wrap-up that includes all the footage. It will be brilliant.”

“It will be moronic,” Angie said. “And I’m not doing it.”

She looked at her boss, who twirled a pen between his fingers. “You know what, I’m siding with George on this one. I think it will be a great story. The print media has already jumped on it, and done a few stories touting the anniversary. But, instead of phoned-in reports, I want footage. You can find a place to transmit it every day. There will be a station nearby.”

“Well, I’m not going,” Angie said. “You need to find someone else. I’ve been at this station for six years. I should have some say over my assignments.”

“Of course you do,” Walter said. “Just not this time. All my other reporters are tied up, plus, I’m still a little pissed at you for that debacle over the councilman sex scandal thing. You missed the boat, totally.”

“I was responsible and wouldn’t go with rumor. I didn’t miss anything.”

“No? Then how come the others stations had the story before we did?”

“Because they jumped the boat. We waited until the day his resignation was announced, and we had a good, clean story that could be backed up.”

“We waited, yes, and we were the last station with the story. Consider your little road trip a working suspension, if you will.” Martin stood. “End of discussion. You two can take an SUV and leave tomorrow. Don’t forget to save all your receipts for reimbursement.”

He left, and Angie turned angry eyes on George.

“I don’t believe this. I hate you.”

“You’ve made that perfectly clear before, so I don’t know why you’re saying it now.”

“Call it reinforcing the facts. You know what my birthday means to me. I spend the whole week partying with friends, and now, I have to spend it with you.”

“There used to be a time you didn’t mind being with me. You’re hurting my feelings.”

“Bull. You don’t have any feelings. You’ve proved that over and over again. This newest stunt just reinforces the fact.”

“This isn’t a stunt, Angie. It’s a story, and it will be good. You’ll see.”

“This is pulp. A crappy story about a bank robber who lifted four million dollars and then probably froze to death in the mountains somewhere. I mean really, who cares? It was twenty-five years ago.”

“The guy was barely twenty-three years old when it happened. He’s not even fifty yet.”

“He’s dead.” She spread her hands wide and shook her head. “Everyone knows he’s dead.”

“Supposedly. What if he’s not, then it will be a huge story.”

“Right. Twenty-five years of searching by the FBI and private investigators and two journalists are supposed to find him in a week. I want some of the drugs you’re taking if they give you those types of delusions of grandeur.”

“I’ve got all the books to take with us. We’ll stop at small towns along the way that reported sightings after the robbery.”

“That will be every hole-in-the-wall between here and Denver.”

“Yup. It’s going to be a great fun.”

Angie stood and stared down at him.

“Okay, listen to me. If you try anything, anything at all, I’m going to scream bloody murder until every sheriff’s deputy within a hundred mile radius of where we are shows up. And when they do, I’m going to tell them you kidnapped me and are holding me at gunpoint. Got it?”

“You wound me.” He held his hand to his heart.

“Yeah, I’ll wound something, but it won’t be the part of your anatomy you’re holding onto, I guarantee it.”

She turned and stormed from the room, heading for her office. She had phone calls to make and plans to cancel. This would turn out to be the worst birthday ever.

*****

George sat at the conference table, tapping his pen on the surface. He tried not to smile, but it was difficult. He’d worked extra hard to come up with the idea that he had to put him and Angie on the road together. The five months they’d been broken up had been hell on him, and he knew that, despite her bravado, she missed him. She’d as much as said so the other night when they crew was partying on Sixth Street, and she’d had just a little too much to drink.

All he needed was some time alone with her to make things right. This trip was perfect for that. A week, not from Monday through Friday, but an actual seven day week, with no one in the car but the two of them.

He’d planned out the whole trip, including the stops, according to the research he’d done on Franklin Murphy, the twenty-three-year-old who had successfully stolen four million dollars from Austin Merchant’s Bank in 1983. And he’d done it alone, according to legend, hiding in the air vents before the bank closed, successfully disarming the alarms and opening the vault to take what he wanted.

Much was made of the fact that he’d left a signed note on the bank president’s desk practically daring him to find him, and the money. Not one dollar from the robbery had ever surfaced since that day, leading authorities to believe he’d died. The last known sighting was in Colorado Springs a month after the theft. And after that, nothing. He’d been seen in several smaller Texas towns before then, and it was that path they would take, talking to those who had seen him and bringing up old memories that would fascinate their viewers.

If all went well, it would bring them back together. She would have to talk with him. They would work their problems out, and by the time they were headed back to Austin, things would be great between them again.

Of course he knew how important her birthday was to her, and how much she celebrated during the week beforehand. He had some special things planned, including a few birthday spankings. He smiled as he remembered how much Angie liked to be spanked. He planned to remind her of that this week, just as extra-added insurance that things would go his way.

*****

Angie slammed her notebook down on her desk. She wasn’t sure exactly what George was up to, but she knew it wasn’t good. She wanted to stay in Austin instead of traveling up the state, and then on to Colorado Springs. And even if she did want to make this trip, she didn’t want to do it with George.

She sat down in her chair, pulling it up close to her desk and putting her head in her hands. She knew that anyone who walked by her cubicle would see her, sitting there looking as if she’d just lost her last friend in the world. Really, that happened months ago when she and George had broken up.

She’d been so sure they would get married; so sure they would go the distance and stay married once they were wed. And then they’d had that stupid fight. Truthfully, right now she couldn’t even remember what the fight had been about. It had been something stupid, she was sure of that. They’d been mad at each other, and then something else had happened. She couldn’t quite remember what, and then the rift had grown.

Before long, she was so mad at him she didn’t want to talk to him about anything, including work. When she’d seen his name next to hers on the sign-out sheet for an assignment she’d asked for a different photographer, and it had always been granted.

Until today. She wondered what made today different than any other day, and why Walter was letting George control this trip The photographer must have talked it up for a while now, for Martin to agree so quickly, and so easily. This could get to be expensive. A week on the road, meals, two rooms in a hotel for seven nights, and gas at more than three dollars a gallon. This little trip would definitely hit the station in the pocketbook.

Still, the story was interesting, and Angie was a good reporter and could draw people out and get some very good interviews. The stories would draw viewers, which in turn would increase numbers, which in turn would increase advertising revenue.

So, in the long run, it was a good idea. She just wasn’t thrilled about going with George. There had to be some way out of it, some way she could get another photographer assigned. She scratched the idea almost as soon as she thought about it. This story was George’s idea, and there would be no way that he would give it up to someone else.

So, basically, she was stuck. Martin had made it clear she was going, and so was George. Therefore she had to make the best of it. And the best way to do that would be to set the terms down right now, quickly and firmly. She would make sure that she laid down the rules, and he followed them.

She made a few phone calls, commiserating with friends about it not being fair that she had to be gone the entire week. She was careful not to tell them who she was going with, because they had all been bothering her about George, about how the two of them needed to get back together.

If her friends knew she was spending a week on the road with him, it would just get their hopes up that she’d finally given in to their advice. And she had no plans on doing so.

After the phone calls, Angie started to search for her nemesis, or so she saw him as in this whole mess. She found George in the parking lot, checking out the SUVs that were available for travel. He was talking to Steve Brady, the news director, and they were standing in between the vehicles.

She approached them quickly, her heels clicking on the pavement. She wanted to makes sure George could see she meant business. He actually smiled at her as she approached, and the greeting made her stop at the end of the car.

“Yes?”

“I want to talk to you. Hello Steve.”

“Hey, Angie. Going on a road trip, huh? Sounds pretty cool. Nightly updates, and now, I hear you’re going to be doing a video blog for the website, too. That’s way cool.”

“Video blog?” She shook her head. “No one said anything to me about that.”

“Yeah, sort of extra stories for the audience to see,” Steve said. “It will increase traffic on the website, and be great for us all in the long run. We’re not asking for much, just a ten to twelve minute segment each day. And it has to be something different that what runs on the newscast that day. Some person who remembers our robber from his trip to the land of no return.”

“Do we have people set up for this already, or are we going to have to do research once we get to these towns? Because that could be a bit rough, you know, hunting people down and trying to file stories on the same day.”

“I’ve got it all set,” George said. “Interviews are set up in five different towns that Murphy stopped in during his flight from Austin. Now that we’ve decided to do the video blog, we may want to call more people on the road, but for the first few days, we’re set.”

Angie hated to admit that she was impressed. George had definitely set this up right, and had gone the extra mile so that most of the work was already done. All Angie would have to do would be to come up with interview questions, and then help him edit the pieces for transmission.

Of course, now she knew she’d have to do the video blog each day, too. But that wouldn’t be hard. They could interview people at diners where the man was known to have eaten, and ask if the visit by the famous thief was still a topic of conversation twenty-five years later. All in all, it really wouldn’t be too bad, she thought.

Suddenly the laws she wanted to lay down for George seemed petty and mean-spirited. He’d gone out of his way to make things easy on her, and if she told him know that he had to follow her rules, she would seem like a bitch. And she’d never liked being that way.

“Did you come out here to tell me something?”

“No. I just, um, was wondering about the route we’re going to take.”

“There’s a printed map on my desk, along with a book written about Murphy and the list of interviews I’ve already set up. I was going to give it to you this afternoon, but if you want it now, it’s yours.”

“That would be good. Thanks.” She glanced at Steve, who rocked back and forth on his feet.

“So, does this trip mean the two of you have kissed and made up?”

“No.” She shook her head for added emphasis. “We have not, so don’t go telling everyone we have.”

“Okay, I won’t. But I guarantee when they see the two of you are on this trip, that’s exactly what they’re going to think. People will say you two are playing footsie on company time.”

“Well, that’s just a hunk of bull,” Angie said. “You make sure if you hear any rumors you set them straight.”

Steve grinned at her, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “Right. I’ll get right on that. I’ll go inside right now and make an announcement. How’s that sound?”

“I’m serious, Steve. I don’t want people talking about me and George.”

“Too late.” Steve winked at her and started back toward the building. When he’d gone inside, Angie wheeled on George.

“Do you see what you’ve done? I don’t like being the topic of conversation at my job site, and I can assure you that’s exactly what’s going to happen the minute we pull out of the parking lot in the morning. Hell, they’re probably in there right now gossiping about us.”

“I’m sure they are,” George said. “But they’ve been doing it for the last five months, so why worry about it now?”

“I don’t believe you. You make it sound as if it’s no big deal.”

“It’s not, Angie. It’s just gossip. Who cares?”

She stared at him for a long minute, then crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I want to talk about this trip.”

“I thought we’d already done that.”

“I mean talk about the trip as in what it means in conjunction with our relationship.”

“I love it when you use big words.” He grinned and she didn’t know whether to laugh with him, or slap the smirk off his face.

“Listen, this is strictly business. No funny business, understand?”

“Understand.”

“I mean it, George. If you so much as pucker your lips at me, I’ll … I’ll …”

“You’ll what?”

She growled in frustration. “Just keep your hands to yourself.”

“Fine. Does that mean I can use my lips, since they weren’t included in that last warning?”

“You just…” Angie stopped talking when she noticed Jasmine Simpson, a reporter, watching them with interest. She had a smile on her face that let Angie know the entire conversation they’d just had would be spread across the newsroom before lunch.

“Just behave,” she hissed out before turning to go back inside.

“I’ll pick you up at your house around seven tomorrow. That way you can leave your car in your garage.” George’s words followed her across the parking lot.

“Whatever!” She stalked inside the building and headed back to her cubicle, determined to ignore any gossip Jasmine was about to start. She had work to do and things to wrap up if she was going to be gone for a week.

She sat down and tried to work, but spent the next hour doodling on a notepad and cussing George under her breath.

Then, when it was time for lunch, she ordered sandwiches from a local deli shop, then headed toward the Capital building to meet Kylie, her best friend who worked as an aide for a state senator.

When they were seated on a bench outside the Capital, she handed Kylie her bag, and told her about the trip. Her friend’s reaction was not what she expected, and it didn’t do anything to make her feel better about life.

“You’re not supposed to laugh.”

“Are you kidding me? Sweetie, give the man a break. If he’s gone to these lengths to get you back, then it’s obvious that he loves you. Forget whatever stupid fight you two had and take him back.”

“No.”

“Why not? I know you still care about him. Okay, scratch that. I know you still love him. Admit it.”

When Angie didn’t answer, Kylie put her arm around her shoulder and gently squeezed. “It’s just stupid pride in the way right now. You know it as well as I do. If it’s not, give me another reason for not taking him back.”

“He’s a jerk, and he’s ruined my birthday week.”

“Oh yeah, that’s real mature. I don’t want to admit I love him because he’s making me miss a few lunches.”

“And a party.”

“We’ll have it when you get back. Stop pouting and act like a big girl.”

“You know, you’re supposed to agree with me, not him.”

Kylie put down her sandwich and turned to Angie. “You know I love you, right? I would do anything for you. But I want you to listen to me very carefully. You and George belong together I told you that five months ago. And I’ve told you that every month since then. And, I’ll tell you again next month. I’ll mark it on my calendar. If you’re looking to me to tell you to help harden your heart against him, you’re looking in the wrong direction.”

“Traitor.”

“No, I say it because I love you. You’ve been miserable since the two of you have been fighting. Admit it. And now, you just don’t know how to say that you want him back. It’s too easy now just to stay mad at him. Gather your courage and admit that you love him.”

“No.”

“Fine, but when he finds someone else and you’re crying into your pillow every night, don’t be mad when I say I told you so.”

“I wouldn’t cry into my pillow. I can’t stand him, remember?”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. You might actually believe it one day.”

“I really hate you,” Angie said with a sigh. “You know that, don’t you?”

Kylie tightened her hold, pulling Angie toward her so that their heads were touching. “I know. I hate you, too.”

*****

George pulled into her driveway at six forty-five the next morning. She wasn’t surprised that he was early. That was one of his most endearing traits: he never wanted to be late, or make people wait on him. He always wanted to be early, or on time.

Angie knew he would be at the house early, so she was ready. She’d packed one suitcase, and had a hanging bag with one business suit, just in case. She and Steve had talked about the interviews she would do and decided that she should dress casually, in keeping with the theme of a road trip.

So she’d packed two pairs of jeans, and two casual pairs of pants and a skirt. Her tops had been carefully picked to look classical, yet simple, with lots of bright, solid colors that went well with her dark hair.

Before he could get out of the car, she started totting her luggage off the porch.

“I’ll get that.”

“No, I can do it,” she said. “You can bring the cooler I packed. It’s in the kitchen.”

He disappeared inside the house and she placed her luggage next to his in the back. The station equipment had been carefully stored in its proper place so that it wouldn’t be damaged during the trip.

When her luggage was stored, she put her purse and briefcase in the front seat. Sitting in the divider between the seat was a map, their route outlined in red marker. The sight brought a smile to her face. George, as organized as always, was making sure that everything went as planned. She picked up the map and found a notebook underneath it with their stops planned. Also listed were notes on the interviews, their connection to Franklin, and a short bio on them. The first one today would be in Abilene, about two hundred and fifty miles up the road.

She saw from the sheet that George had scheduled an interview at two that afternoon with a woman named Martha Prough, who served Franklin lunch the day after the heist at a diner called The Desert Rose. She’d been twenty-eight at the time. Now she was now fifty-three and working in the same diner.

When George came out of the house with the cooler, she opened the back door of the SUV, and helped him load it inside.

“I think we’re set,” he said. “Anything else you need to do?”

“No. I stopped the mail, and my neighbor’s picking up my papers for me. I think I’m all set.”

She went back up to the house and checked to make sure everything was shut off. Then she locked the door and went back to the SUV, where George was already waiting inside.

Once she was inside and buckled in, he backed out and she picked up the notebook.

“You’ve done a lot of work, here.”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t think this was just a pleasure trip. I honestly think this will be an interesting story.”

“I’m sure it will be.”

“Does that mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

“No. It just means the story will be good.” She settled back with the notebook, hoping to stop any attempts at conversation. “Let me know when you want me to drive.”

“Will do.” His happy tone made her smile, but she kept her face turned down so that hopefully, he wouldn’t see it. It wouldn’t due for him to know that she’d actually begin to think this was a good idea. Better to let him stew during the drive. That would keep things strictly business, as she wanted them to be.