Opportunity

The newsdesk at The Era was abuzz with the story of the day when Sam arrived.

“God, if I’d known it was that easy to get into Rebecca’s pants I woulda had a crack myself,” said one of the grizzled old crime reporters.

“Has anyone seen Caroline,” asked Sam. “I’m sure this story has been misreported and the truth will come out in the wash.”

“Nah, look at the photos Sam, there plenty of stuff coming out there, but the truth isn’t it,” laughed the hack.

Sam sat at her desk and begun reading the hundreds of emails her admiring readers had sent her overnight.

‘Dear Sam, you are more full of shit than the septic tank out at my uncle’s farm. I have read chapters of the Bible that are more factually accurate than the tripe you write,' began one such missive.

She wondered whether she should text Caroline. In the face of what was clearly a carefully orchestrated campaign by the patriarchal misogynist establishment to smear football’s leading female journalist, Lane felt she should show solidarity with her mentor, her guide. Sometimes Sam felt like the Naomi Klein of football, and Caroline her Germaine Greer.

“Sam, I need you to get the zoo,” shouted the news editor.

“The zoo?” she responded. “I’m a footy journo.”

“I know,” said the news editor, “Kevin Sheedy’s just been arrested trying to break into the dingo enclosure. Apparently he’s drunk and only wearing a pair of Richmond footy shorts. Dunno about you, but it sounds like a story to me.”

As Sam headed down the city streets in a Silvertop taxicab, she reflected on the morning. She would have to wait before taking action against Rebecca. If she acted now, she would become part of the story and that would be unprofessional.

But she would have her revenge, oh yes she would taste revenge. And then, then she would taste Caroline.