by Kylie Adams
The audience howled.
“That’s exactly where I was heading. If you had only given me a chance!” Sutton replied, earning a few laughs of her own.
“Does everybody read The It Parade?” Emma inquired.
The explosion of applause provided the answer.
“I have it bookmarked,” Simone admitted. “It’s one of the first sites I go to in the morning ... after I get my grande-triple-hazelnut-sugar-free-nonfatlatte from Starbucks. Because before I get that, I am impossible. Anyway, I was reading it the other day, and I’m, like, ‘Oh my God, who is that? I feel like I know her.’ And then I realized that I was her.”
Emma nodded with bemused empathy. “For those of you who don’t read this stuff ... well, first of all, congratulations! You’re probably too busy surfing serious news sites—”
“Are there serious news sites online?” Finn interrupted. “I must have the wrong Internet.”
Another big laugh from the crowd.
“There’s a whole world out there, Finn,” Emma deadpanned.“It goes beyond The It Parade, eBay, and porn.”
Finn let her get the laugh and get away with the line. After all, it was nothing that he had not—or would not—say about himself.
“Seriously,” Emma went on, “for those of you who don’t know, The It Parade is a popular online gossip column that never mentions actual names, but the clues are so obvious that identifyingthe subjects becomes a fairly easy game. Also, there’s a viral quality to it, because the columns get forwarded in e-mails and then the bloggers get started with their two cents.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “Pretty soon your mother is calling to ask if you really are still upset about your last breakup.”
“Would the column get half the attention if real names were used?” Simone wondered aloud. “I mean, think about it. ‘Simone Williams tried to shop at Christian Dior, but her credit card was declined.’ There. A quick and dirty bit of gossip.Over and done with. But without a name, it takes on anotherlife cycle, not to mention endless speculation. By the end of the day, I’m giving my building super oral favors to make the rent. Ridiculous!”
“I can barely get a lightbulb changed for doing that,” Finn cracked. “I need to move into your building.”
This time even his cohosts joined in on the cacophonous laughter.
“We’ll be right back after the break ... with Jinx Wiatt,” Emma said, beaming a perfect stage girl smile. “Don’t go anywhere!”
As was the custom during the first commercial interlude, Finn and Simone ventured out to interact with audience memberswhile Emma studied her notes for the upcoming segmentsand Sutton engaged in a hushed conference with Jay.
The minutes ticked by like seconds. Suddenly, they were reassembled at the table.
“She’s one of the country’s most widely read gossip scribes,” Emma began. “And now she can add bestselling author to her résumé with the immediate success of her first book, Ex Marks the Spot: How to Know When You’re Really Over Him. Please welcome to The Beehive ... Jinx Wiatt!”
The infamous vixen came strutting out in a towering pair of Manolo Blahniks. But she barely passed the five-foot mark. This girl was very tiny, very tan, very blonde, and, judging from the enormous princess-cut yellow diamond adorning her most significant finger, very well taken care of. After a flurry of double air kisses to each host, Jinx settled into her assigned spot in the middle of the group. “My ears are burning!” she enthused in a voice that reeked of girlishness.
“Just burning?” Sutton remarked. “They probably should be bleeding.”
Jinx giggled.
Simone jumped in without preamble. “Where do you get your information? Do you have, like, spies everywhere?”
Jinx waved off the thought in a way that managed to emphasizeher yellow diamond. “Oh, it’s not that sinister. I go here. I go there. Sources call me.” She beamed a megawatt smile. “I think people end up sharing more with me, because I don’t name names. I’m a firm believer in protecting the guilty.” She punctuated her last line with an outrageous giggle.
Sutton just sat there, stone-faced. “Do you actually find it rewarding to traffic in other people’s miseries this way?”
Jinx’s smile froze. There was a steel-like glint to her eyes that told Finn she had come under attack countless times ... and always emerged unscathed. “It’s not all misery,” she countered.“For instance, I recently reported about an older talk show host who slipped into the restroom at a bar with a much younger man and stayed there for twenty minutes or more. As the story was told to me, they both left looking quite happy.”
Sutton’s eyes narrowed into hateful slits.
Finn moved fast to intercede. “Your column often goes beyond the reporting of gossipy tidbits and seems to take aim at people’s emotional lives.”
“I have a background in psychology,” Jinx explained. “So that’s only natural.”
“But is it responsible?” Emma asked. “As you’ve explained, much of your information comes to you from random sources—”
“Never random,” Jinx argued. “My sources are vetted for accuracy. I stand behind every column I write one hundred percent, and if there’s ever so much as a shred of doubt about the veracity of a story, then I back off until I’m certain. It’s the only standard to live by.”
“Yes,” Sutton said haughtily. “You have such high journalisticprinciples. A regular Woodward and Bernstein.”
“I do consider myself a journalist,” Jinx said archly.
Finn saw an opening to kill. “I once had a friend who considered himself Steven Spielberg’s nephew. Now he has outstanding arrest warrants in two states.”
The audience laughed uproariously.
But Jinx could not be rattled. “Interestingly, it’s not the allegedinaccuracies that cause discomfort to the subjects of my columns.” She paused a beat and fixed a meaningful stare on Finn. “It’s the deeper truths. People tend to live in denial.”
Finn knew that Jinx stood ready to play armchair psychotherapist on the subject of his friendship with Dean Paul. But there was a time to throw down, and there was a time to retreat. Finn chose the latter.
“Tell us about your book,” Simone said, holding up a copy of Ex Marks the Spot: How to Know When You’re Really Over Him. “How did that come about?”
“I’m famous within my friendship clique for staging elaboratefemale summits,” Jinx gushed. “I plan them for big stage of life changes like engagements, first pregnancies, divorces, career reinventions—anything that’s huge and life altering. And what I’ve observed is that the ex factor—I’m talking the significant ex here—really does mark the spot in terms of how women perceive themselves and embrace new opportunities.”She glanced over at Finn. “And some men as well. It works both ways.”
Emma jumped in. “One of your recommendations for getting over an ex is something you call ‘Closure Sex.’”
Jinx nodded. “That’s when you sleep with him one last time. Go out with a bang. Literally.”
The crowd broke into titters.
“Too many women over-romanticize the last time they were intimate with an ex,” Jinx went on. “I’m all for a dirty round of sex to say good-bye and good riddance. It’s empowering.And it will leave him second-guessing letting you go, which is another plus.” She winked.
“Well, what if your ex is a stalker?” Simone asked. “I’m speaking hypothetically, of course.” She rolled her eyes and made an adorable, who-am-I-kidding face that amused the audience. “But I would think sleeping with your stalker ex could be ... I don’t know ... a sign of encouragement you might not want to send.”
“Stalking is such an overused term,” Jinx said. “It rarely applies. I find that many self-proclaimed stalker victims are simply not ready to let go of the relationship, either. They’re holding on just as hard.”
Simone let out an audible gasp. “Well, that may be true in some cases—”
“But not yours,” Jinx finished in a patronizin
g tone. “It never is.”
Simone turned to address the audience, as if convincing them were the only way to get through this now. “My ex-boyfriendkidnapped my cat!”
There was a collective moan of astonished sympathy.
Jinx raised a hand to silence the crowd. “Wait a minute. Did he grow attached to this animal during your time together?”
“Well ... I ... I guess,” Simone stammered. “But the cat is mine!”
Triumphantly, Jinx tilted her head to the side. “It’s not uncommonfor people to withhold visitation with pets and children. Ostensibly, it’s to punish the ex. But it only serves to ratchet up the conflict, which keeps the connection alive, even if that connection is negative.”
Simone just sat there in stunned silence.
“The little games we play to convince ourselves that we’re over our exes are endless,” Jinx went on. “The cougar phenomenonis a perfect example. A man leaves a woman for a younger girl. So what does that woman do? She goes out to find a younger man to prove that she’s still vital.”
“But men have been doing that for years!” Sutton protested hotly.
Halfway into the rebuke, Jinx began to shake her head. “Men do it for sex. Not because they were dumped or feelingless desirable or anything else. It’s just for the sex, sex, and more sex.”
“So you’re saying a woman can’t be motivated by the same physical need,” Sutton challenged.
“I didn’t say that explicitly,” Jinx argued. “I believe a woman can be motivated by sex. No doubt. But the predicating factoris almost always something else. We’re complicated creaturesthat way.”
Finn threw himself into the middle of the melee. “You’ve positioned yourself as the Jedi Master of thriving after a breakup.What kind of training do you have?”
Jinx gave him a shrewd smile. “I’ve been through my fair share of breakups, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s precisely what I’m asking,” Finn said.
“It took many breakups to develop the insight to write this book,” Jinx admitted. “Many bad breakups.”
“Anyone we might know?” Finn inquired.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Jinx said silkily. “But I’ll never say who.” She zeroed in on Emma. “Ms. Ronson, you’re uncharacteristically quiet. Has this subject touched a nerve?”
Like a cat sensing danger, Emma lengthened her spine. “I’m just curious. And I’m sure our viewers are as well. What would you say are the telltale signs of being over an ex?”
Jinx appeared to savor the question. “The surest sign is to see him with someone else and not feel ... tortured. That must be particularly difficult in your case. I imagine the intensemedia coverage of Dean Paul Lockharts’s romance with Tilly Winston came at a time when you were still reeling.”
Finn saw Emma’s face turn ashen. In a pathetic way, he could relate. Hearing Benji speak of Dean Paul’s dalliance with the rock chick blonde had done quite a number on him. And seeing it happen with his very own eyes had done yet another.
Don’t be jealous. Who knows? Next time I cheat, maybe it’ll be with you.
The words were typical Dean Paul. He often talked smack without consideration for the potential impact. It had been a stupid joke, unintentionally cruel teasing, a flirtatious way to acknowledge that he knew about Finn’s secret desires. And until last night, Finn had not realized how much he was truly longing for the fantasy to come true.
“That explains your career change,” Jinx was saying to Emma. “Women in the throes of a painful break will often do something drastic—change jobs, change their look—in the false hope that the external shake-up will somehow calm the internal feelings. But it rarely does. There’s always the relief that distraction brings, but when the lights go down at night, there’s no escaping the yearning for an ex.”
“Okay,” Emma snapped. “I get it.We’re all hopelessly hung up on our exes and living in a constant state of delusion to think otherwise. Now that we’ve established that, tell me why anyone should go out and spend twenty-five dollars on your book.”
“There are some painful chapters to get through,” Jinx admitted.“But that’s important self-assessment work that has to be done. It’s the only way to grow.” She smiled a condescendingsmile. “There’s also a complete guide to becoming your own girlfriend. If every woman would do that for herself, then the world would be a much happier place.”
“Finding the Girlfriend Within?” Finn asked in a mocking tone.
“Exactly,” Jinx said, giving him an upbeat nod.
Suddenly, Finn was filled with a glorious sense of comeuppance,not only for himself, but for Sutton, Emma, and Simone, too. “Aren’t you treading on old Brad Good territory?”
Jinx gave him a blank look.
“Years ago he gave that same spiel to gay men with a sappy little tome called Finding the Boyfriend Within.”
Jinx shifted in her seat. “I’ve never heard of it,” she said tightly. “Or this Brad Good person for that matter.”
Finn shot back a devilish smirk. “How ... convenient.”
“In this case, yes,” Jinx countered. “And as you well know, the truth can also be inconvenient.”
Sutton recognized her opportunity and pounced. “So is this an original work, or did you lift an idea from a gay writer and package it for a straight audience?”
Jinx was visibly offended. “I did not lift any idea from anyone.Like I said, I’ve never even heard of this gay book. And by the way, Avril Lavigne called. She wants her jewelry back.”
The studio audience rumbled with boos, hisses, and a smattering of laughs.
Emma seized control.“The author is Jinx Wiatt.The book is Ex Marks the Spot: How to Know When You’re Really Over Him. The baggage is something we all carry. Please stay with us. We’ll be back after a short break with more from The Beehive.”
Jinx waited for the on-camera light to change, then stormed off the set without a word.
“I think she likes Regis and Kelly better,” Finn remarked.
Nervously, Simone bit down on her lower lip. “It was bad enough before. What’s she going to write about us now?”
“Who gives a shit?” Sutton spat. “The bitch deserved it. And we’re still the walking wounded. I’d hardly call what happened unfair.”
Finn slipped out of his chair and started toward the backstagearea that led to his dressing room. He rarely needed a drink in the middle of a show. But he needed one now.
Emma followed in hot pursuit. “Finn, wait—”
He stopped and spun around.
Emma looked stricken with regret. “About Saturday night ... I owe you an apology. I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was saying.”
“How very Mel Gibson of you.”
Emma’s smile was pleading. “You have to forgive me. I can’t take you being mad at me.”
He shrugged off the notion. “Bygones. I’ve said worse things to people when I was sober.”
Emma breathed a sigh of relief and leaned in to embrace him.
“We’ve got maybe two minutes, and I need a shot of somethingbefore we go back on air,” Finn whispered into her ear. “Are you game?”
Emma drew back and clutched her stomach. “Oh, God, no. I’m on the second day of a murderous hangover. If you ever see me with another Horny Goat in my hand, I hereby grant you permission to shoot me on sight.”
Finn laughed a little.
Emma regarded him seriously for a moment. “I might be over-assuming something here when I say this, but ... it’s going to be hard ... to stay friends with him and not end up getting hurt.”
“I know that,” Finn admitted quietly. “But I think protectingmyself by walking away from the friendship might hurt more.”
Emma put a comforting hand on Finn’s forearm. “You know, that son of a bitch doesn’t deserve half the love that’s thrown his way.”
Finn managed a half smile. “And yet here we stand pining away for him.”
Emma sighe
d deeply. “How can two smart people be so fucking stupid?”
THE IT PARADE
BY JINX WIATT
Fill in the Blanks
You never really know whether you are over the old ex until you start dating the future ex. That’s when the comparisons start. Who’s the better kisser? Who’s the better lover? Who’s funnier? Who actually listens to what you say? That gorgeousBlack American Princess may be dodging creditors like sniper fire, but she’s also giving the ex rules from my new book a serious workout.Smart girl. If I were a betting woman, I’d put money on the fact that the baseball hunk is no home-runin the sack against hip-hop’s hottest mogul.
16
Simone
Simone glared at the vibrating mobile phone. She knew that the incoming number was a creditor. They had become relentless.Reluctantly, she took the call. “Hello?”
“Simone Williams, please.”The voice was female and bitchy as hell on the first syllable drop.
“Speaking.”
“This is Jean Kent from American Express. I’m calling in reference to your outstanding balance of eleven thousand two hundred thirty-eight dollars and eighteen cents.”
Simone’s stomach dropped. Eleven thousand dollars? “Excuse me, there must be some kind of mistake. My bill couldn’t possibly be that high.”
“I see no record of any disputed charges.”
“But I just paid—”
“Your account is past due by more than sixty days,” the woman cut in. “I can take a payment over the phone.”
A sick feeling spread across Simone’s abdomen as she recalledthe creditor paying frenzy that had commenced with her first salaried check from The Beehive. Money had gone out to American Express Blue, American Express One, American Express Optima, and American Express Platinum. “Which card is this?”
