Assignments: A Russie Features Short

Cross-Ramsay Apartment

London, England

United Kingdom

May 2017

“How excited are you for this gig?” Eugene Ramsay questioned. Both of them had just arrived from work; he had already made his way to the kitchen to reheat some of the previous night’s leftovers. “Could have sworn that you were jumping when you came out of the conference a while ago.”

“I’m extremely excited, Gene. You don’t understand,” Lysette Cross insisted. In the process of sliding off her heels, she nearly ended up bumping into the table. Eugene was surprised to not hear a yelp and a swearword, “I’m going to America, the most shit happens over there. And this is a big, big story. I can’t not be excited, that’s bullshit.”

The male frowned slightly as he slid the large container into the microwave, “You’ve gotta be careful, though. You said it yourself: the most shit happens to their branch. I know that you’ve been aching for a story like this, but at least put yourself first.”

“You worry too much about me.”

“Can’t exactly help it, can I?” Lysette smirked in return, tying her red hair up in it usual, messy bun. “I’ve been on more assignments like these. I know how they usually go—why do you think journalists get so much shit?”

“Center of danger and all,” she waved a hand carelessly, “But we do it for the story. We do all of this for the story, and hell yes I’m part of it too, even though I’m not part of the writing cluster.” Her green eyes shone, “I’m finally being given a chance to embark on one of these things. Cut me some slack.”

“I’ll cut you the slack you want when I see that you’re safe.” The microwave gave a beeping noise and he took out the container, eventually putting it down on their dining table. “Come on, Lys. Let’s get something to eat before you waste your appetite on the story.”

“Yes, mom.” She snarked in return. Nevertheless, she sat across him and started serving herself some of the previous night’s Bolognese. “Brazil, right?”

“Mhm. And Steele got Italy, I think he plans on taking his wife there too.” Lysette made a face at the news, the image of their blond-haired photographer coming to mind. “Psh, you know how he is about her. Let him.”

“Sometimes I forget that Aaron’s a married guy,” she complained.

At that, Eugene shot her one of the most deadpan stares, which was saying something considering the fact that deadpan was his almost-default state. “He mentions it every-fucking-day.”

She hummed. “True.”

Earlier that day, the three of them—Lysette, Eugene, and Aaron—had been called by two of META’s editors. She had explained that their team in particular had been chosen to cover one of META’s upcoming features. Lysette perked immediately at the news, Aaron looked interested, and Eugene, as usual, had a blank look on his face. “You guys will be going to different locations,” one of them had explained. “In the United States, Brazil, and Italy.”

“How do we decide?” Lysette asked.

“If you have connections with the place at hand, then you can go ahead and take that area for yourself.” Humming, Aaron lifted his hand. “Aaron?”

“With all due respect, what are we even supposed to check out, anyway?” the two editors, Jennifer and Daniel, glanced at each other shortly.

“Well,” Daniel started, “have you heard of a place called Headquarters?”

The rest of the meeting went by faster than usual. Eugene noticed that Lysette looked more and more excited the more Jennifer explained alongside Daniel, with Aaron carefully asking questions here and there.

When Jennifer asked who was willing to go to the United States (Atlanta specifically), Lysette’s hand shot up immediately. The rest of it came to him and Aaron, with he claiming Brazil and Aaron for Italy. When asked why Lysette wanted to tackle the States, the redhead could only wink and say that she had her own contacts. This obviously pleased the two Editors, who gave her full permission at that point.

“So who are your contacts?”

“That’s a secret.” Lysette responded quickly. Almost too quickly; Eugene frowned at her over a plate of pasta. “What? I need to keep my secrets. And you need to do your own research. As a writer.”

“I’m curious,” Eugene insisted. “Come on.”

Still smiling, Lysette could only fork some more pasta into her mouth. After chewing and swallowing, she merely replied, “I have a friend.”

Eugene personally felt that it wasn’t much of an answer, but at the same time decided to give in and let her do what she wanted. “If you say so,” he sighed, smiling her way despite Lysette keeping (vital) information away from him.

“You’ll understand when I tell you,” she promised. “Both you and Aaron, at least.”

“I don’t understand what we’re supposed to be doing at this point, but okay. If that’s what you say, then I’ll believe you.”

“Mm.” she stood up, emptied plate in her hands. “I’ll go ahead, okay? Cheer up—I’ll help you with research too.” Eugene snorted.

“That totally makes me feel better, thanks.”

After washing her plate and bidding him goodnight, Lysette landed back inside her own bedroom. Her eyes caught a familiar, wooden picture frame by her bed and she couldn’t help but give a small, fond smile at the memory contained inside the object.

“Soon,” she told herself. “I’ll see her again soon.”