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loveistherootofhappiness · 5 years ago

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#12 surprised date while working late....911 Bobby and athena

I was finally able to get around to writing this. Sorry about the lateness. I’m not going to preface it too much and just let you read it. I hope you like it! Thank you for prompting me.

Fandom: 9-1-1 Paring: Bathena Rating: General Word Count: 1911

“Hey, it’s Valentine’s Day. I just wanted to tell her that I loved her,” Silverman said cheekily, as Athena’s handcuffed the struggling man with ease and placed him In Clark’s squad car.

“Of course you did. Just like you have the last 6000 times this month.” Athena rolled her eyes at the man, annoyed that this was the 4th time this week she was arresting him. “Do you know what the words restraining order mean?”

“Oh, come on, she didn’t mean that! She was just playing,” looking past her he see the complainant, Brittni, standing on the sidewalk talking with one of the other officers, “tell ‘em, baby, tell ‘em that I love you. You didn’t mean all those things-“ Athena, having heard this speech way too many times this week, closed the door.

She could still hear his muffled words of “affection” as she walked away. Before walking to her squad car, she walked where Brittni stood talking to Derek. “When we take him in this time, leave him there.” Brittni had the good sense to look sheepish and gave a nod. Athena nodded back choosing not to say anything else and praying that she heads her warning this time. She gave a look to Derek and patted him on the shoulder before walking back to her own squad car.

She spotted her young protege, Braxton, leaning against the hood, giving her a hand clap as she walked to the car. “Nicely done, Sarg.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Unfortunately, it’s all in vain. Knowing these two, we’ll be back.” Athena told her as she got into the driver’s side.

“I bet you lunch tomorrow, he’ll bail out and be back here by the end of the day today,” Braxton flopped down in the passenger seat, “today is Love Day, after all. Makes people do the most.”

“I’m not even going to take you up on that because I know it’s a losing battle.” Athena gazed out at the young woman, “now if only the two of them could figure that out.”

Braxton chuckled and was about to comment when the beeping of her phone caught her attention. She fished the device out of her pocket and smiled when she saw the text notification over the lock screen photo of her family.

From: Mr. Sarg 🙃 Does she suspect anything?

Braxton smiled down at her phone as she thought fondly about Bobby’s plan. She stole a look at Athena, who was currently concentrating on writing notes on her tablet. She knew that Bobby kept this solely between the two of them and she hadn’t told anyone.

Nah, she has no idea.😉

After replying, she closed her messages and went to the notes app, to read over the plan once more. She thought it was sweet, what Bobby was doing for them tonight and she was happy to be involved.

“Is there a reason you’re smiling so much over there?” Braxton startled a bit at the sound of Athena’s voice. She looked up to see her Sergeant eyeing her questioningly.

“Oh yeah, Jay sent me some cute pictures of her cuddling with the pups and some loving messages,” Braxton lied smoothly as she locked her phone and dropped in her lap.

Athena’s gazed at the young rookie, questioning whether or not she believed her. Braxton steeled herself with another line of questioning when,

“All available units, back up requested in Lincoln Heights. Domestic dispute turned hostage situation, suspect appears to be armed.”

“That’s like the next ‘hood over from here.”

Athena flopped her head back against the seat and sighed audibly, “love day, my ass,” she grumbled. Picking up her radio, she responded, “dispatch, unit 212 responding, we’re in route now.”

“Today’s so fun. I love working on Holidays,” Braxton joked. Athena just eyed her as she put the car in gear and drove towards the next call. As much as they disliked it, rise in domestics and similar calls was par for the course on holidays, especially Valentine’s Day.

That’s how the rest of the day went. Their shift was full of domestics and extravagant gestures gone wrong. As the evening settled into night, things started to wind down and they were just patrolling, nothing happening except a couple or routine traffic stops. That was normal though. There was always an “an eye in the storm” so to speak, before the craziness picked back up again.

“It’s almost your break time, Sarg.” Braxton commented as they rode through the streets.

“Is it? I didn’t even notice. The hours tend to run together on these type of days.” She stifled a yawn as she rubbed her eyes. It didn’t matter how long she’d been doing this, she’d never be used to these type of days, especially when she had someone she’d rather be spending her time with.

She opened her phone to the love filled message that Bobby sent her at the start of her shift this afternoon, rereading the words as she had several times today. He’d left her a rose and a well made breakfast this morning, the only time they were able to “interact” all day. Every time she thought about sneaking off to visit him another call would come in. She hoped they would run into each other, but their paths didn’t cross today.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Braxton asked, interrupting her train of thought.

“Just that I’d rather be spending time with my husband right now.”

“I feel you.” Braxton said as she sent quick texts to Bobby and Elaine.

To: Mr. Sarg 🙃 Everything all set on your end?

From: Mr. Sarg 🙃 All set.

Braxton was excited. She couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.

To: Cap Laney 👮🏻♀️ Hey, everything’s a go, if it’s still all good with you?

From: Cap Laney 👮🏻♀️ It is. Tell Athena she can have 45 minutes for this one.

It’s was amazing how lenient their captain was about us spending time with loved ones. As long as they didn’t go overboard and were still monitoring the radio, meeting up with a friend or family member during shift breaks was fine.

All she needed to do now was let her friend in dispatch know. “Where do you wanna go to eat? Oh, since we’re in Koreatown there’s really good place on-"

“Report of suspicious activity in Grand Park, limited information known at this time, any available units in the area?” Braxton stifled her giggle as she heard her superior cursing under her breath.

“Unit 212 responding.” Athena answered.

“Might be nothing.” Braxton kept up the unassuming facade.

“Doubt it. This is probably the start of the second wave.”

“We’ll see.”

It took them less then 10 minutes to arrive at the park. As they scanned the area the park was a little less lively than during the day, but the people they did see weren’t doing anything that could be considered suspicious. Athena and Braxton decided to check the areas that were a little less lit and quieter to make sure nothing was going on there.

As she walked across the lawn, Athena felt a firm hand grab her shoulder. Wasting no time, she grabbed her gun and rounded on the unknown person, knowing that it wasn’t her partner. She soon found herself pointing her gun at her husband.

“Bobby! What the hell? I could’ve shot you! What are you doing here? I thought you were at work?” Athena asked frantically as her heart pounded. She looked over at her partner to find her laughing.

“Okay, maybe getting your attention that way wasn’t the smartest idea.”

“You think?!” Athena put her gun back in the holster, “but that still doesn’t answer my question.”

“A little birdie told me that this was your break time today, so I thought I’d surprise you with a little lunch date. While you had the time.” Bobby grabbed her hand and led her over to a near by picnic table that had a candles, flowers, and a meal for two set up on it.

“How?” Athena asked as the wheels kept turning in her head.

“He and I have been setting this up for the last few days.”

“I contacted Braxton when I found out that we wouldn’t be able to see each other for yet another holiday. She said she could set something up.”

“Most of this was his idea. I just made sure that everything went the way it was supposed to. Surprise!”

Athena said nothing in response as she let it all settle in her mind. “So the call?”

“Dispatch was in on it. So was the rest of the shift. They knew were the only ones that was supposed to respond to it.”

“Wait the entire shift was in on this?” Athena asked.

“Yep, Cap too. She also told me to tell you that you can have 45 minutes for this one. Well, I’m gonna leave you guys to it. See ya Sarg, Mr. Sarg, I’m gonna go have some Korean fried chicken and call my wife to tell her about this. See you in 45.” Braxton walked away before Athena could get another word in.

“You know the Mr. Sarg thing is starting to grow on me, makes me think about that discussion we had about me taking your last name,” He looked to see Athena’s eyes squinted at him, “what? Robert Carter does have a nice ring to it.”

Turning towards her husband, she smacked him in the chest, “that’s for keeping this from me and doing all this,” and leaning on her tip toes she kissed him deeply, “and that’s doing for all this”

When her lips left his, she wrapped her arms around him, reveling in the feel of him, his scent. All things aside, she loved having this moment with him. “That’s the point of a surprise date. For it to be a surprise, what I supposed to do? Tell you. You’re just mad that everyone else was in on it except you.” She was, but she wasn’t going to say it out loud.

“Let me guess, the 118 knows, too.”

“Yeah, they know where I am and what I’m doing. Hen’s in charge while I snuck away to meet you.” He grabbed her chin and brought her lips up to meet his, “now can we eat?”

Wordlessly, she picked a side of the table and he sat across her. She removed the cover from the dish and was assaulted by the delicious smells underneath. She had to admit she was impressed by the number of hoops he went through to make this happen. Not even giving away a hint as to what he was planning. She loved him for it.

“I love you. Thank you for this.”

“I love you, too. We’ve barely seen each other or spent much alone time together these past few months . It’s Valentine’s Day, there was no way I wasn't going this whole day without seeing you again.”

“You make this whole scheme sound so simple.”

“It was. I wanted to spend time with you today. I was going to to make that happen, schedules and even a couple regulations be damned. Simple as that.” Bobby told her with conviction.

She let the air of finality be just that as she shifted the conversation and just focused on being in the moment with him. These 45 minutes were going to be over sooner than either of them wanted.

#bathena #athena grant #bobby nash #bobby x athena #911 #prompt fill #prompt response #fanfic writing hell #krl912 #fanfic asks #idk how i feel this #but its finished #i hope you like it

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lovelyirony · 6 years ago

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The Necessity of Goodbyes

Robert Bruce Banner was born to a mother who loved him more than she could put into words. She loved him as he grew, and his first word was “book.” She loved him through bruises, shouts of anger, and the silence following. But she knew that if their life would continue like this, she would not survive, and there was a high chance he would not either. So when he is passed out on the couch, and Rebecca allows herself to sneak into Bruce’s room, heart breaking at his immediate reaction to tense up before releasing, she makes her decision.

Screw her marriage. Screw this house. Screw him. She will go and save them.

“Do you want to take a road trip?” Rebecca asks him. Bruce lights up. He saves postcards. She will give him fifty cents when they go grocery shopping, and if he could, he would spend hours looking at the different scenes. Not much to Ohio, but sometimes they’ll put in pictures of Paris or Switzerland or Wyoming or Texas. She thinks they do it just for Bruce—their regular cashier always gives him a mint and a smile. Rebecca thinks maybe she knows about the situation. It helps.

“Can we visit Yellowstone?” Bruce asks. “Or…maybe, um, Jennifer and Aunt Elaine?” That sounds like a great idea.

“We have to be very quiet about this,” she answers. “We’re going to stay with Jennifer and Aunt Elaine for a while. We’ll visit the Hollywood sign and see what Uncle William is up to as sheriff.” Bruce smiles, smiles so widely that Rebecca can’t remember the last time her son did that.

They go to the library. She guides Bruce away from the house, and they use the computers that take forever to boot up. She emails Elaine about the situation, and the result is a resounding yes.

Jennifer needs more company in her life, Elaine writes, and I think Bruce and her would get along great! I don’t have to play as many checker games now! I miss you, and I’m glad you’re staying with us. Keep your eyes peeled for job opportunities, if you want.

She starts stockpiling resources, hides the bags in the guest bathroom. They never have guests over anywhere, haven’t since Brian’s little “problem.”

He doesn’t suspect a thing. She plies him with alcohol, cooks his favorite dishes, and stays quiet. He likes it, and she burns with hatred. Bruce is behind her, silent. He steals cereal from the cabinet, takes granola bars for his school backpack.

When it’s a week away, she’s on edge. Her mind is paranoid, giving her nightmares of him finding out, going berserk. She grips the extra key she has to the car tight, not losing sight of it. He’ll check her purse all the time, making sure she has money that he gives her, making sure there is no “evidence” of everything going to shit. So she hides the key close to her chest, even if it hurts sometimes.

They leave early in the morning. She let him drink to his heart’s content, not caring of the consequences. He gets too close, breath reeking of booze.

She stays quiet with the berating comments, because she knows that he won’t wake up until close to twelve. He has work at eleven, and she won’t be there to wake him up. His boss had called her, telling her that if he was late again, he was fired. She “didn’t remember” to tell him.

Rebecca tiptoes to Bruce’s room at five, surprised to see him already awake. He has his backpack ready to go, shoes in hand, and they go down the stairs. She doesn’t know why she’s so terrified. Her heart is pounding out of her chest, and Bruce is whimpering. She shushes him with a smile.

“We’re leaving for forever,” she says. “It’s a moving experience.” Bruce grins, and the sniffling melts away.

The car is parked in the street, thank god. She starts it up slowly, looks back at the house, and turns off the street for the last time.

Her hands are shaking with excitement, she can’t believe she’s actually doing it. She had had dreams about this moment, escaping with her son.

Her son actually starts laughing. She turns on the radio, not to the news channel that he used to blast and complain about every good thing happening in the world. She finds a song she used to listen to before everything, one that she still knew the lyrics to.

Bruce giggles as she does little dance moves, and tries to improvise the words. They go on the highway, and Bruce had only seen it once, when they were going to Grandpa’s house for Thanksgiving. He loves going fast, loves getting away.

“I wanna talk to Jen,” he decides. “I’m gonna tell her all about frogs and my favorite color and maybe even that I don’t like the—what was it, momma?”

“You don’t like the white sauce,” she reminds him. “And neither do I!” He grins and tells her about his dinosaur book. They don’t actually know the color of dinosaurs, which was amazing. She makes up colors.

“Maybe a stegosaurus was actually…neon orange!” Bruce cackles in his car seat.

“No mommy!”

“Well we don’t know their actual color! Who’s to say?”

They stop at a gas station, and she allows him to pick out one treat. Bruce carefully goes up to an aisle, and points at a small bag of barbecue chips. “Can I get this one, please?” Rebecca grins.

She gets beef jerky, a huge cup of Coca-Cola, and a car scent thing. Just because she could. It’s scented “sunset walkway,” and she didn’t even know that she could smell something like that. She calls Elaine on a payphone, telling her where they are and how much more it will be.

Bruce thinks everything is fun. He loves pointing to signs. He’d never seen other license plates on cars. He saw one from New Mexico, and announced that he wanted a turquoise sweatshirt exactly like it. Rebecca snorts.

“Okay, baby. We can see what we can do.”

She’s kind of terrified, if she’s being completely honest. She has no idea what she’ll do in LA. Not at all. But she knows anything would be better than living with that monster. Bruce deserves better than…than that. She’s determined that his life will be better because of it.

They have a fast food dinner. It’s not exactly what she wants, but Bruce is absolutely excited. He receives a toy with his meal, a little plush turtle. He disregards the assigned name of “Shellie” and promptly names the turtle “Tchaikovsky.”

“It starts with a T,” he says. “And it’s not Tina or Tim or Shellie.” Rebecca nods, dipping a fry into ketchup and urging him to drink more of the milk.

They sleep in a motel room. She pays in cash, gets the key, and tells Bruce to pick the side of the bed. Children look through everything as if it’s the most exciting thing ever. Bruce is overjoyed that they are on the second floor, and they get to use the elevator. He thinks the ice machine is amazing, and wants to get behind it to see how it works. She just sighs, smiles, and tells him they need a good night’s rest. He’ll get cereal in the morning and maybe something else. Depends.

She stays awake past him, taking him into her arms. She is worried, oddly enough. She wonders what Brian’s doing now. If he’s lost his job. Probably. Drinking money away. Being an asshole of a person. She prays to God that no poor woman goes to him, looking for solace or something else. She hopes, cruelly enough, that he gets what she thinks he deserves. Rebecca settles down against her pillow, and smiles down at Bruce. She would do anything for him.

They get closer to Los Angeles. She thinks the majority of the day will cover it. Bruce might slow them down some, but she’s allowing him some leisure time. He likes stopping at all the rest stops along the way and describing what he likes. He likes the color green, but not bright green. The color green like pine trees, or like mommy’s favorite sweater. (She’ll have to check to make sure she packed it.)

The two get into Los Angeles late, to the point where Bruce is too stubborn to go to bed, but too sleepy to do anything else. Rebecca sighs as she pulls into the familiar driveway, parking the car and turning off the headlights.

“We’re here baby,” she murmurs. A light in the kitchen comes on as Elaine walks out, rushing to greet the two.

“Hey,” she whispers. “How are two of my favorite people holding up?”

Rebecca’s shoulders drop a bit of their tension as she sets down Bruce to go hug his aunt. “We’re sleepy,” she responds back. “And forever grateful for you.”

“Don’t be grateful just yet, Will cooked,” Elaine remarked. “Bruce, Jen’s really excited to see you. She’s lying on the couch.”

Bruce trips over a shoelace as he races up the stairs. Elaine laughs as she guides him to where Jen is currently sleeping as reruns of some animated show plays.

“Bruce!” Jen says as he pokes her leg. She pats the seat next to her, and then lays down again. “Took you a long time. I wanted you to come to school with me today.” Rebecca smiles fondly as Bruce tells her all about the “extremely, super-duper cool hotel,” and the “weirdest thing I ever saw, Jen!”

Elaine and Will sit down with Rebecca in the kitchen, putting Jen and Bruce down to bed.

“We’re here to help, you know that right?” Rebecca nods. She sinks onto Elaine’s shoulder.

“I know. I know.”

And they do help, actually. Elaine helps her sister find a job with Stark Industries, working in their marketing department. She takes Bruce to meet Howard’s son when they go to the same school, and Tony’s there for a robotic demonstration. She honestly thinks her life is over when Bruce corrects Tony on a measurement. She thinks Howard will fire her, her life will fall apart, and all hope is lost.

But Tony grins, and drags Bruce to his makeshift workshop. Finally, there’s someone on “his level.”

Jen is a very shy girl, but one that is always ready to fight for what’s right. Rebecca and Elaine both suspect she’ll be a lawyer or something similar. She always can argue a little bit better than both Bruce and her father, which is always a delight to see. Bruce and Jen help each other come out of their shells and realize that they can have friends and they can be happy pursuing their hobbies and interests.

As Rebecca kisses Bruce on the cheek as she gets into the car to drive home, leaving him in college, she knows he’ll be okay. Bruce is rooming with Tony and a very nice boy named James who seems like he will be the one who will be either responsible or the instigator. (As time goes on, she discovers that it’s a little bit of both.)

‘Love you,” Bruce says, pulling her into a hug. “And I’ll miss you. Text you tonight with an update on how three college boys cook.” She laughs, giving him a final glance.

“I’m so happy for you,” she says. “Stay out of trouble.”

(Which of course, he doesn’t do. But that’s another scrapbook that she hasn’t finished quite yet.)

#abuse tw #alcohol tw #rebecca banner #elaine banner #bruce banner #jennifer walters #listen: i love jennifer with whoel heart #and bruce #bruce!!!!!#my boy #lovelyirony writes #i can't find this on my dash and i've tried looking for it so i'm just posting it now #or rather....reposting #at least i think i am

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gwynne-fics · 8 years ago

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Board Meetings -- Rachel & Young-Do

pushed

Nam-Il won’t give me the name of your new girlfriend so I am asking you for it. Almost three weeks means it’s serious and if it’s serious, I need to meet her.

Young-Do briefly closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. I will call you tomorrow morning. My mind needs to be in these meetings today and they will go late. I was gone for two of those weeks. Let us breathe, Omma.

So there is a girlfriend. I hate being the last to know.

He knew that. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide Rachel from her. I will tell you everything tomorrow morning but there isn’t much to tell. I’ve got to go.

It was a lie but Mother didn’t know that. Hyun-Shik came in and handed him a new folder. “Your lunch and one o’clock have been pushed around. Their proposals aren’t ready and you need to eat something, President.”

He sighed and then nodded as he picked up his phone and dialed Rachel’s secretary. “Call my car.”

“Yes, President Choi.” Hyun-Shik bowed and left quickly.

“Hello, Yoo-Ra, how are you this morning?” Young-Do patiently waited through her answer and made the appropriate comments. “What does Rachel’s lunch look like?”

And there was an interesting hesitation. “President Yoo is having lunch with a friend in our cafeteria at noon. She’s asked me to keep dinner and the rest of her evening free for you, President Choi, so her afternoon is pretty tight.”

“Thank you, Yoo-Ra. No need to mention this.”

“Fighting, President Choi!” She hung up and he set his phone down. Rachel’s friend was a man. Yoo-Ra had been too careful only to end with a phrase that definitely said she wanted him to win her president.

“President, your car is ready.” Young-Do stood and grabbed his wallet after putting on his jacket. Rachel specifically told him she liked his random drop-ins in one of her texts while he was gone.

I miss the sudden surprise of your face. I keep looking up even though I know you’re in another country. I look forward to you.

He was not checking up on her. He just wanted to see her and if her friend happened to be there, this was a great chance to meet him. Or her. He tried not to get restless. Things might be weird with Rachel but he told himself it was just growing pains. They were learning how to live with each other despite his absence for two weeks. They were both presidents of large, international corporations. He didn’t want to lose her because...because he simply wasn’t here.

When he arrived at RS International, he carefully made his way over to the company restaurant and saw her sitting with...fuck. An attractive man their age who clearly had all of her attention. Young-Do curled his hands into fists. He should walk away and pretend he didn’t see this. He was wrong to come.

He intended to turn around and leave but the man noticed him and said something to Rachel. He quickly smoothed out his face and started towards them with a smile so when Rachel looked over, he at least appeared not to be jealous.

And she smiled at him like he hadn’t crashed her lunch. She stood when he made it to the table and she kissed him. He tried not to turn it into a display and he failed. “The only reason I don’t berate Yoo-Ra is because I like it when you do this. Hopefully, you are the only one she gives this information out to.”

“I’m sure she’s responsible with your schedule. She didn’t mention you had a guest,” he lied. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything.”

“Oh.” She looked at the young man and her expression softened. “This is my friend, Lee Hyo-Shin. He worked on that drama we liked as the assistant PD. He’s just been picked up to be the main PD for a new script.” She sounded proud of him. Young-Do politely bowed as Lee Hyo-Shin stood and returned the gesture. “Sunbae, this is my boyfriend, Choi Young-Do. He’s president of Zeus Hotels. He just closed a deal on the most difficult piece of real estate to purchase in Thailand.”

“You’re so cute when you brag,” Lee Hyo-Shin said. There was tenderness between them and Young-Do was...fuck he was jealous. “I’m going to check on our order. Does your president have a usual I can tell the staff to bring out?”

Rachel looked mildly confused and Lee Hyo-Shin clearly knew what it meant. “You need to explain us so he doesn’t find me in an alley somewhere and break my lovely face. I am clearly not his type.”

Then he was gone and Rachel looked embarrassed. “He makes fun of me,” she said quietly, “Because I don’t get jealous so I don’t see it in other people. I’m sorry. He’s probably my best friend but I should’ve been more mindful that he’s a man.”

“You don’t see him that way?”

Rachel winced and kept her gaze on her drink. “We’ve slept together,” she admitted. “But we’re just friends. I don’t understand the phrase. He is a man so I can’t help but see him that way. You really are my first boyfriend. I’ve never done anything like this before. He’s been helping me figure it out.”

Young-Do glanced over at Lee Hyo-Shin talking to the waitstaff and tried not to be bothered by him. Of course, this very attractive friend was willing to help her out. Because if Young-Do failed then he would be here to pick up the pieces and help her figure it out with him.

That was not going to happen.

She was trembling again, like she had when he came home two nights ago. Young-Do swallowed and tentatively touched her hand. “If you say he’s just your friend, then I believe you. I have a few female friends, even though I’ve never slept with them. I am jealous. I’ll always be jealous of a guy you have an easy report with. I know it’s going to take us a little time and I wish we could skip this step.”

Rachel looked up on him and the trembling stopped. “I’m okay with it taking a little time. Michael took nearly a year to propose to his girlfriend and he said it was worth the wait.”

“Michael Park? The American?” The one marrying Eun-Sang. He missed his chance to ask her if she saw them getting married after a year because he didn’t know if he wanted Rachel to know Eun-Sang at all.

“He’s lived here for almost nine years. He doesn’t want to go back.” She wrinkled her nose. “Yes, all my friends are men. Girls...it’s different with me and girls. Michael asked me to sponsor the dress for his fiance. He’s getting married in five months. I met her today but I don’t think we can be friends.”

He tried not to let his relief show and keep his question casual as Lee Hyo-Shin rejoined them. “Why not?”

“She doesn’t like other women around Michael.” Lee Hyo-Shin rolled his eyes at that. “It makes sense. She’s obviously not one of us and Elaine can’t pleased about this. The only reason Michael’s getting away with a love match with a poor girl is because he’s the third son.”

“Shawn is bound to mess up and Elaine knows it,” Hyo-Shin said as the waitstaff brought their food. Apparently, Young-Do did have a usual because there was something there for him, too. He smiled up at the waitress and asked her to thank the chef for being so quickly accommodating. “He tried to steal Michael’s fiance, you know. She turned him down and told his mother.”

“Elaine must’ve gone through the roof. Robert Park’s affair nearly cost them everything. A scandal between brothers over an unimportant woman could bankrupt them here.” Rachel actually smiled. “Maybe I was wrong. I thought Cha Eun-Sang didn’t love Michael. Maybe she does.”

“Michael doesn’t need love. He needs a master.” Young-Do tried to hide his confusion mostly because he’d never seen this side of Rachel. It took him two seconds to realize he liked it even though it made him jealous that Lee Hyo-Shin was the reason. She was more relaxed but had somehow scooted her chair closer to Young-Do.

Rachel put her hand on his thigh and his throat went a little dry. “He’s missing out,” she said and placed a piece of kimchi on his rice. “Love is nicer than he thinks.”

#board meetings

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mastcomm · 5 years ago

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The Chaos at Condé Nast

It’s a high-class but increasingly common problem: being a former magazine editor in a digitized world that cares little about whose name used to be on top of a defunct masthead. (A masthead, for those unfamiliar with the term, lists in careful hierarchy the top staff of a publication and is most often printed on paper — which tells you pretty much all you need to know.)

At 48, Dan Peres is already an old hand at being a former magazine editor. Condé Nast shut down Details, the men’s glossy that he had been editor of for 15 years, in 2015. Overnight Mr. Peres went from two decades spent as a coveted presence at fashion shows and parties in the world’s capitals to a divorced dad adrift in the ’burbs.

He tried to pivot to digital publications, but quickly learned there is little job security in start-ups. He took on some consulting gigs. He was also jotting down stories from his past life, one not many people knew about.

“I started to have some conversations about next steps career-wise, and during that time I started writing,” Mr. Peres said last week, sitting in his home office in Irvington, N.Y., at a wooden drafting desk that he had lugged from Paris. “There were experiences I wanted to get down on paper. I wanted to keep my mind sharp.”

The result is a memoir, “As Needed for Pain,” which was published this week by Harper, an imprint of HarperCollins.

In the book, Mr. Peres reveals an opioid addiction that he tried for years to hide, and which, until he got clean in 2007, had him taking as many as 60 Vicodin pills a day. Among many anecdotes that illustrate his wincing desperation, he tells of gobbling up pills that had fallen onto the floor beneath a urinal at a black-tie event in 2003. “Does the five-second rule count for piss-soaked drugs?” Mr. Peres writes. “I’d like to say I hesitated.”

“You can’t fault his honesty, although you’ve got to wonder about the judgment of his bosses,” Jay McInerney wrote in a review for The New York Times. And indeed, “As Needed for Pain” is an eye-opening document of how Mr. Peres for seven years spent his working hours and many of his company’s dollars in pursuit of getting high.

Since 2009, Condé Nast has gone from publishing 22 magazine brands (including one digital-only publication) to 16 magazine brands (six of which are digital only). In 2017, the company had about $120 million in losses.

Mr. Peres’s reign seems to have epitomized the bloated pride before the fall. Founded by Annie Flanders as a scrappy downtown magazine in 1982, Details had gone through several iterations before being taken over by Fairchild, which was ultimately moved under the Condé Nast umbrella. With Mr. Peres as editor, the magazine was retooled as a manual for a metrosexual clinging to a certain frat boy quality, lest you call him gay.

Details had for a time what Tina Brown always used to call “buzz,” with cover models like Robert Downey Jr., Kevin Federline (twice!) and Ben Affleck. It was not so filled with ads that it was a doorstop, like the flagship magazines Vogue and Vanity Fair, but it was still robust.

Freelance journalists wanted to contribute to Details (I was one, reporting a profile of Patrick Kennedy for it in 2001), and the magazine won awards for its design.

Condé Nast, which also then regularly published the magazines Gourmet, Jane, Lucky and Domino, had become famous through shows like HBO’s “Sex and the City.” The company was known for around-the-block Town Cars filled with enigmatic editors who lunched at New York restaurants like the Four Seasons and enjoyed clothing expense accounts and interest-free mortgages provided by their employer.

After being summoned at 28 from the Paris where he had worked as a writer and editor for W magazine and given the top job at Details, Mr. Peres lived subsidized for months in the Morgans Hotel. Once, he trashed his room because he couldn’t find his Vicodin; he blamed the housekeeper for stealing his drugs.

The hotel staff “called me Mr. Peres,” he writes. “I liked it. I never once told them to call me Dan.”

Those Were the Days

Editors of glossy magazines had status then because their products seemed important. People went to newsstands or physical mailboxes to find bound pieces of paper dropped by postal workers that would tell them who and what was cool, giving them topics for cocktail-party and water-cooler chatter.

Portable phones were these whiz-bang things that folded shut and were tucked away in pockets and expensive “It” bags.

The early and mid-aughts were the Roaring ’20s of magazines, with the looming economic recession not yet imaginable and the disruption of digital media not considered by publishing executives, so infatuated with their pretty print pages and the huge margins that print advertising delivered. No matter that their one real job was to have their fingers on the pulse of What’s Next.

“Those that are the oracle never think they’re one day not going to be the oracle any longer,” said Ariel Foxman, who helped create Cargo magazine in 2003 for Condé Nast, which closed it in 2006.

Mr. Foxman went on to become editor in chief of InStyle, where he remained until 2016. He is currently trying to sell a memoir called “The Magnificent Dissolve,” which looks at how magazines “led the conversation and then found themselves in the course of a few years chasing the conversation and trying to stay relevant.”

If published, it will join a subgenre of memoirs by onetime Condé Nast editors that includes Ms. Brown’s “The Vanity Fair Dairies”; “Save Me the Plums,” by Ruth Reichl, the former New York Times restaurant critic who went on to become Gourmet’s editor until Condé Nast shuttered it in 2009; and “More Than Enough,” by Elaine Welteroth, late of Teen Vogue.

“What a blast to be a part of something at its peak that now can be seen as a golden age,” said another memoirist, Dana Brown. Mr. Brown was a bartender plucked for an assistant job by the former Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter.

He rose to be one of Mr. Carter’s deputies and is now writing “Disappearing Ink,” the working title of a memoir about the experience. “It was a time that was pre-technology, it was a time that was magical,” he said. “Writers were called writers, photographers were called photographers. It was before we all became ‘content creators.’”

Kim France was the founding editor of Lucky magazine, which started in 2000 and ceased publishing in 2015. She too is writing a memoir: “This Is Not My Beautiful House,” about moving from Texas to New York and building an outwardly glamorous career while battling substance abuse and depression. (She left Condé Nast in 2010.)

Her mood swings and impetuous behavior were initially treated as a sign of her creative talent, Ms. France said. This was the Condé Nast way.

“It was a privately held company, and they could employ all these really creative, kind of crazy people,” she said. “You had André Leon Talley swanning around. There was drama all over the place. It was obviously bad that this culture existed the way it did, but it started because they valued creativity and the kind of people that were creative.” (As it happens, Mr. Talley also has a memoir set to publish, in April, called “The Chiffon Trenches.”)

It was a culture that somehow allowed Mr. Peres for seven years to live a dual life as an editor in chief responsible for the publication of a national magazine and the management of dozens of employees, and an opioid addict.

When writing the book, Mr. Peres said, it didn’t occur to him that he might be revealing a lack of corporate oversight at Condé Nast or what a white man could get away with doing (and not doing) at a company known for its lavish spending.

“I didn’t overthink it,” he said. “I always set out to write a story about myself and my addiction and how intense of a grip it had on me, and in order to illustrate that, I had to touch on a number of elements of my life, including of course my professional life. I really see Details as a character in the book.”

A spokesman for Condé Nast said, “We’re happy for Dan’s recovery and to know that he’s doing well. Since the time chronicled in Dan’s book, our company and our industry have evolved significantly, and we can’t comment on the way our company was run under prior leadership.”

Mr. Peres tells in his memoir of frequently not making it into the office; when he did, he sneaked occasional naps on his office couch during the heavy drug years. He fell asleep while interviewing a job applicant. He had an assistant plan an unnecessary trip to San Diego, where he rented a car (he doesn’t remember if he or the company paid for it), drove to Tijuana, Mexico, and bought $6,000 worth of drugs to smuggle back across the border and then to New York (in between, he appeared on “Politically Incorrect” with Bill Maher in Los Angeles).

He would find reasons to fly to Los Angeles, to meet a publicist, see his girlfriend, do drugs with a rock star, who is unnamed (“plane highs were usually the best, especially in first class,” Mr. Peres writes). That girlfriend, the actress Sarah Wynter, would become his wife and then ex-wife; they have three school-age sons.

He spent four days “in a plush terry cloth robe” at the Four Seasons in Milan without attending the fashion shows he had traveled there for because he didn’t have sufficient Vicodin to feel like himself. (He then had the front desk send a medico to his room, who wrote him a prescription.)

Mr. Peres conscripted an assistant to unwittingly create with the Condé Nast travel office a 30-day itinerary to Italy and Australia that he could show to doctors as evidence that he needed to fill prescriptions in advance.

On a work trip to Los Angeles, Mr. Peres considered trying heroin and asked his driver to take him to Skid Row, where he was chased by a stranger whom he’d asked for drugs, (“It’s not easy to run for your life in a pair of Tod’s driving moccasins,” he writes). He decided buying drugs on the street was not for him.

“I listened to Journey and practically knew the room service menu at the Ritz in Paris by heart,” he writes. “I didn’t know how to do this.”

His Town Car driver in Los Angeles, he writes, became his drug dealer.

‘We Were Running the Show’

When he was present, Mr. Peres could be mercurial, some former colleagues said. “You never knew what kind of day it would be,” said Ece Ozturk, his former assistant, who worked at Details for about six years. “Would it be a good day with the nice Dan or a bad day with the mean Dan? He could be very charming at times, but people were afraid of Dan. People walked on eggshells around him.”

One former employee who had been fired sent a letter to Mary Berner, a publishing executive overseeing the company division that included Details. The letter, which was shared with The Times, cited “Dan Peres’s conspicuously frequent absences” and his “admissions about pill-taking.”

“The atmosphere at this young men’s magazine wasn’t just freewheeling — it was unprofessional,” the fired employee wrote.

Ms. Berner, now the C.E.O. of Cumulus Media, said she had no memory of reading the letter. “I wish I had known” about Mr. Peres’s drug problem, she said, “because I would have tried to help him.”

Mr. Peres writes that his assistant was known to many at Details as “the Rescheduler.” In one seven-week period Ms. Ozturk sent at least five emails to staff canceling meetings, according to emails reviewed by The Times. (“Dan is not in this morning, but may be in this afternoon” … “Dan will be out tomorrow, returning Friday” … “Dan is out today” … “Dan will be away on business tomorrow and Thursday, returning Friday.” Or maybe not: “Dan did not make it back from L.A. so to those who were supposed to have a ‘Vitals’ meeting,” she wrote, referring to a section of the magazine, “it has been canceled.”)

In the absence of a functional editor in chief, the staff of Details worked long hours to put out a magazine. “There were a lot of people there who could pick up the baton,” said Andrew Essex, an advertising executive who served for part of Mr. Peres’s tenure as executive editor.

Over the years, Mr. Peres’s colleagues included Laura Brown, now the editor in chief of InStyle; Jessica Lustig, a deputy editor of The New York Times Magazine; Jeff Gordinier, the food and drinks editor for Esquire; and Andrea Oliveri, a founder of the events company Special Projects.

Even with such support, Details under Mr. Peres had its fair share of mess-ups that these days, under the stern gaze of social media, might have been unsurvivable. In 2007, as Mr. Peres was trying to detox at his mother’s house in Baltimore, Mr. Affleck complained that he was misquoted in a cover story.

There was a party that the magazine was hosting in Mr. Affleck’s honor, and he needed to be placated. Mr. Peres quickly apologized.

Bart Blasengame, who had written the story, conceded that had played fast and loose with Mr. Affleck’s sentences.

“He said things in fits and starts and I took quotes from different parts of the interview and made them cohesive,” said Mr. Blasengame, who now owns and runs a music club in Portland, Ore.

He said part of the fun of working for Details was the lack of oversight. “We were running the show,” he remembered of himself and his fellow writers. Then, after the publication of the Affleck story, which had been fact-checked and given the OK by Mr. Peres, his contract was terminated (though he went on to receive other assignments from Details). “Admittedly, I didn’t handle it well,” he said, “but it definitely felt like getting thrown under the bus.”

In 2002, the magazine had published an article, “Dudes Who Dish,” that carried the byline of Kurt Andersen, the author well known in media circles as a founder, with Mr. Carter and Thomas L. Phillips Jr., of Spy magazine.

The main problem with the article was that Mr. Andersen didn’t write it. He didn’t even know of its existence until his wife, Anne Kreamer, saw it while leafing through a Details at the gym and asked her husband why he hadn’t told her he was writing for that magazine.

Mr. Peres bragged about landing Mr. Andersen in the pages of Details in his editor’s letter, not having done the very editor in chief thing of reaching out personally to Mr. Andersen to thank him.

“The extra weird wrinkle,” said Mr. Andersen during a phone conversation last week, was that the magazine featured an “interview” of him among the short bios of that month’s contributors. “As well as the terrible piece attributed to me, there was an even worse, horrible, ‘Hey dude, it’s just gossip’ quote from me. It was mortifying. Not just mortifying. Grotesque.”

Mr. Andersen said of the magazine, “It was ahead of its time in terms of fake news fantasy-land alternative truth.”

One of Mr. Peres’s staffers, Bob Ickes, handled the editing of the article. (When contacted this week, Mr. Ickes said he did not write the piece published under Mr. Andersen’s name.)

“Mistakes happen at publications,” Mr. Peres said last week, while acknowledging his yearslong focus on drugs above work and all else. “Surely the magazine would not have been as good as it was if not for my staff. I know anyone who has spent any time around an addict has to spend a lot of time doing a lot of heavy lifting.”

Mr. Essex, the magazine’s former deputy, said it is not fair to portray Mr. Peres as having no involvement with the editorial product known as Details. “He could identify bizarre permutations of male behavior particularly at the epicenter of gay and straight,” Mr. Essex said.

This sort of “male anthropology,” as Mr. Essex called it, did get Mr. Peres in trouble sometimes, like when he assigned to a staffer a 2004 piece titled “Gay or Asian?” that drew protesters to picket outside of the Condé Nast headquarters. “It was a tremendous lapse of judgment,” Mr. Peres said.

But cancel culture was not yet ascendant, and he stayed atop the masthead for another 11 years.

“You know when you’re in dysfunctional family and it’s the only family you know so you think that’s how all families are?” Ms. Ozturk said of working at Details then. “It was like that.”

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lovelyirony · 6 years ago

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Take the Wheel

@dromaeocore thanks so much! thought we all needed a bit of a fluff piece. There are themes of abuse and alcoholism in this one, so be warned.