Free Famous Last Words by Jennifer Salvato Doktorski

anything. It was all Meg.”
    “Don’t be so modest,” he says. “I’ve been thinking of asking Harry to let me cover more hard news. My adviser thinks I need some stronger pieces for my portfolio.”
    “You should,” I say. “I’m sure he’d let you.”
    Tony grimaces. “Well, that makes one of us. I’m not his favorite person.”
    “I don’t believe that.”
    “It’s true,” Tony says as he holds open the side door for me.
    Does Harry not like Tony? I’m not sure what to say, so I keep my mouth shut as I step into the dimly lit stairwell. It’s one flight up to the newsroom.
    “Thanks again for the coffee,” I say.
    “No problem. If you come to bar night, I’ll buy you a beer,” Tony says just before we go through the newsroom door.
    “Bar night?”
    “Yeah, at the Harp & Bard. Every Wednesday. Sometimes Thursday. Didn’t anyone tell you?”
    “No.” I feel the familiar pang of being left out.
    “Try to make it. Everyone usually heads over right after work,” he says.
    “Maybe,” I say, trying to sound casual, and wondering if I’ll need a fake ID.
    “Oh, come on, you can do better than ‘maybe,’” he says, and does that shoulder-bump thing again. “The first round is on me.”
    Is he flirting with me? Maybe he’s this way with everyone.
    “I’ll try,” I say. Out of the corner of my eye, I see AJ watching us.
    “You’d better do more than try.”
    “Thanks again for the coffee.”
    I stride toward the obit desk, intent on laying into AJ for not telling me about bar nights, when I’m intercepted by Meg.
    “Great job on that obit, kiddo,” she says.
    “I hardly did anything,” I say. “Thank you for the byline. That was awesome.”
    “You know, Harry will never say this to you,” she says, leaning toward me, “but he was very impressed by how you handled yourself on deadline. If I were you, I’d show a little chutzpah and ask him if you can cover some spot news, or maybe even a council meeting or two. It’s summer. Reporters will be looking for vacation coverage.”
    My mind immediately jumps to Michael’s beat. I’ve been researching other public corruption cases in New Jersey in my free time. (I should be getting gel manicures like Shelby, but at least I’m aware of my nerdy ways.) Kickback schemes, embezzlement of county funds, tax evasion; it’s unfortunate, but there are countless examples of how our elected officials abuse the public’s trust. A common thread running through a lot of these cases is that reporters are usually the first to uncover the corruption. We are the watchdogs , I’ve heard Harry say. Even then, it takes years for the authorities to bring these people to justice. Michael is honing in on Sy Goldberg as a starting point. Finding him is just the beginning; who knows where it could lead?
    “Do you think Harry will let me cover real news?”
    “Absolutely,” she says. “But even if he says no, Harry appreciates aggressive writers.”
    “Thanks, Meg. For everything.”
    I finally settle into my desk chair and tap my keyboard, bringing my computer screen to life.
    “Nice of you to grace us with your presence,” AJ says. “Ready to do some work, or are you going to milk the police-chief obit accolades for the rest of the day?”
    Why is he being such a jerk? I’m racking my brain for a razor-sharp comeback, but I’ve got nothin’. The obit phone rings, and for once I’m thrilled. I snatch the receiver. “Obit desk, can I help you?” It comes out louder and angrier than I intended. “Sure. How many do you have?”
    I start typing and vow to ignore AJ for the rest of the afternoon.
    *   *   *
    Around dinnertime, I plop a Snapple carton filled with orders on the obit desk. AJ is on the phone and doesn’t look up. We still haven’t spoken. I sneak a peek in Tony’s direction and see Alexis, one of the Herald Tribune ’s photographers or photogs, leaning her butt against Tony’s desk, with her long, thin legs stretched out