Musings of a Gossip Queen

by Victoria Bright

  Figuring out where to start, though, is going to be the hard part. Hopefully I can somehow make this right.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Friday, February 13th

  12:23pm

  Taylor’s apartment

  I knock on Taylor’s door. Pop music blares on the other side, probably making it difficult for her to even hear me. I pound harder on the door and then grab my phone to send her a text.

  Blake: Hey, can you come to the door? I’d like to talk.

  Taylor: I don’t want to talk right now.

  Blake: Please? I feel really bad about what I said. I’d like to apologize.

  A few moments later, the loud music ceases and her front door swings open. “What is it?” she asks, leaning against the doorframe.

  I take a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize for what I called you in my blog. It was completely mean and uncalled for and you’re right, it was a shitty thing to do after all you’ve done for me. You didn’t deserve that and I was a complete bitch. I’m sorry.”

  “You pick a fine time to finally apologize,” she says, folding her arms across her chest.

  “I wanted to give you enough time to cool down,” I say.

  She looks at me for a few moments before shaking her head. “Look, I understand you have a job to do, but to publish my business on a public website like that? You practically slut-shamed me and even wrote about my fling with Grady, so now he’s mad at me.”

  “I didn’t purposely put that on the magazine website, I swear.”

  “Why should I believe you? You’ve been pretending to be my friend this whole time only to stab me in the back.”

  “I’m serious. That was a private blog that was hacked and rerouted to the magazine page. I know that Madison was behind this—”

  “Wait, wait, wait. Madison as in Madicunt Madison? She was at the fashion show?” Taylor interrupts.

  I sigh and nod. “Yeah. Remember we had to work on a project together and because I didn’t want what I’d been saying about her to slip out, so I told you her name was Carrie? I told you her real name when we went shopping before the fashion show.”

  “Oh yeah, you did. Yeah, she was a real bitch to you,” Taylor mutters with a shake on her head. “Why would she do something like that though?”

  “I guess to get rid of me, which she may have succeeded at. My friends are mad at me and I took off from work for the rest of the week to try to deal with everything that’s happened.”

  She lets out a low whisper. “Wow. Well, what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. I was hoping you could possibly help me figure something out,” I say sheepishly.

  She scoffs and folds her arms across her chest. “And why the hell would I do that?”

  “Please Taylor? I have no one that’ll listen to me right now and I could literally use a friend. You can even tell me how stupid I’ve been the whole time if you want. Please?” I clasp my hands together and give her what I hope is the saddest puppy eyes she’s ever seen.

  She groans and steps aside. “Fine. Come on.”

  12:30 p.m.

  Taylor’s living room

  “So the first thing you’re going to have to do is leave that magazine,” Taylor says, stuffing a handful of Doritos into her mouth.

  I frown. “But what else would I do?”

  “What else do you like to do besides keep your nose in other people’s business?” she asks with a smirk. Touché.

  “I just like to write, but I’m not really sure what else I’d like to write about.”

  “Then write a book or something. Why don’t you start your own gossip magazine or blog? I’m sure if you learn how to keep your personal life separate from your work life, you should be fine.”

  “That could be a nice hobby, but it won’t pay my bills.”

  “Yeah it will. You could sell ad space once you get your views up. With the type of things you write, I’m pretty sure it won’t be all that hard to get views,” she says, loudly crunching on her chips. I try not to cringe as tiny specks fly from her mouth as she talks.

  “I guess you’re right. I have to leave Hot Topic. Even if I wanted to stay in the field, I don’t know if I can even bear to show my face at that place after what happened.”

  “I can’t believe Madicunt would stoop so low to do something like that. All over a guy?”

  “I was competition she needed to get rid of. She won.”

  “She only wins if you give up,” Taylor says thoughtfully.

  I throw my hands in the air. “But you just said I have to leave the magazine.”

  “Well, yeah, but get a better job. At the end of the day, she’ll just be a sad fool stuck in a dead end job and she still doesn’t get the guy. So why don’t you work on starting your own gossip blog or magazine and maybe find another job on the side until your blog starts generating income? But in the meantime, what are you going to do about your friends?”

  “I don’t even know. Shayla hasn’t responded to anything I’ve sent her. I don’t even know if she’s okay. Also, since I’m going to be leaving, that means I’ll be taking my celebrity contact away. I was wondering if you could possibly invite them to a few parties to help them rub some elbows with some people? Shayla, CJ, and Leo would like that.”

  “Well, you’re in luck. I could actually use a person or two to come with me to a gala afterparty next week.”

  “Thanks. It’ll really make them happy,” I say as I stand up. “Thanks for listening to me. I guess I need to go home and write this resignation email for Gary.”

  “Okay then. Oh, let me grab the invitations for your friends,” she says and jumps up, running down the hallway. Within a split second, she returns with two golden envelopes. “They’ll need these.”

  “Thanks,” I say and turn to leave.

  “Blake?” she calls out. I turn to look at her. “I know you have a good heart. Sometimes good people make bad mistakes. I really hope you’re able to fix this somehow.”

  Tears burn my eyes at her words. “I really hope so, Taylor. I really do.”

  “If you don’t do anything else, at least figure out who you are. It’s so easy to get caught up in what you think is juicy gossip until the reality of it sets in. You’re more than just a gossip queen, so figure out what that ‘more’ is. Once you know that, everything else will come easily,” she says as I open the door. I nod and close the door behind me when I step out of her apartment, pausing for a moment before walking over to my own front door.

  Maybe she’s right.

  1:11 p.m.

  Bedroom

  I look at myself in the mirror. I almost don’t even recognize the girl staring back at me. Her eyes are empty and dark circles are starting to form under them from all the random bursts of crying and lack of sleep. She looks a bit more pale than usual and her dark hair is thrown into a frizzy ponytail.

  “Who am I?” I mumble out loud. I don’t even know anymore, but I do know that hurting the people I care about isn’t something I want to make a habit of. Silas was right; it’s one thing to write stories for the sake of a job, but I shouldn’t have written things about the people I considered my friends. Some things are just better left unsaid or unwritten. Had the shoe been on the other foot, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have wanted things about Silas and me to be published or gossiped about either.

  If I leave the tabloids behind, what else could I do? After what’s happened, I can’t expect any respectable magazine to want to pick me up unless they try to hide me in the background to keep my dirty past from smudging their image. I don’t want to have to go back home to North Carolina, but if I don’t figure out something quick, I won’t be able to afford to stay.

  Or maybe I could just start my own blog on entertainment. I mean if I could just learn to keep my work and personal life separated, then that shouldn’t be any harm, right? I don’t even know anymore. It seems like everything I touch that’s gossip-related ends up going to hell anyway. Maybe I sh
ould just really leave that alone.

  Sigh. Why is life so complicated now?

  4:26 p.m.

  Living room

  After a couple of hours of rolling around in bed like a lunatic, I finally have an idea. The first thing I can do is issue a public apology, kind of like how most publicists get their clients to do whenever they make a big mistake and the media crucifies them for it. At least my friends will (hopefully) see it and know how sorry I am. Whether or not they accept it is another story, but I can only do my part and apologize for what I’ve done.

  I adjust my MacBook on the coffee table and open Photo Booth to record my video. When it looks like everything is the way I want it, I take a deep breath and press record.

  “Hi, everyone. I’m Blake Spencer and if you’re watching this, you’ve probably heard about what I’ve done,” I start, but then immediately stop the recording. That was a stupid start. It didn’t feel natural so I can assume it won’t sound natural to the people I’m trying to apologize to. Take two.

  “Earlier this week, my private blog was hacked and information was released that resulted in a few of my friends getting hurt in the process. What I did was extremely selfish and unacceptable, whether the blog was private or not. Some of the things I wrote about were situations my friends trusted me with and I betrayed that trust. For that, I’m extremely sorry. There is no excuse for what I’ve done and I know that saying I’m sorry won’t be enough. To Taylor, I’m genuinely sorry for the things I’ve written about you. You’re an amazing friend and neighbor who helped me adjust to the city life when I moved here from North Carolina. After all you’ve done for me, you didn’t deserve any of this and for that, I’m sorry,” I say, tears filling my eyes. Wow. I don’t even have to think about this stuff. Keep going, Blake. You’ve got this.

  “To Shayla and Caesar, I can’t even think of anything more to say than I’m sorry. It’s wasn’t my place or my business to write anything about what was going on in your lives. Shayla, I’m terribly sorry for betraying your trust when you told me a secret that you didn’t want anyone to know. As your friend, I simply should’ve supported you and respected your wishes instead of writing about it in a blog. Even though it was private, nothing is really private on the Internet, right? I will do whatever I can to make things right at the magazine, even if that means I have to resign. Neither one of you deserved any of this to happen, so that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

  I thought for a few moments. Since I’m already in the groove of apologizing, I may as well apologize to the original people I’ve hurt while I’m at it.

  “Audrina, I never got to tell you before, but I’m also sorry for what I’ve done. As your friend, I should have gone to you and talked to you about what I’d heard instead of pushing the rumor along on the blog. That was completely unforgivable and you had every right to react the way you did. From the bottom of my heart, I’m truly sorry and I hope you can find it in your heart to one day forgive me.

  “Last but not least, I want to apologize to you also, Casey. Not once did I think that writing about your secret would be detrimental to you. My selfish ways have done more damage than I ever thought possible and I know that apologizing will never be enough for that. If you need anything, please reach out and I will do my best to help you. I also hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me as well and realize that I’m a human who happens to make many, many mistakes. “

  I wipe a few stray tears and sigh. This announcement is going to be hard to make, but it’s one that has to be done. “With everything that’s happened, I’ll be leaving Hot Topic. Gossiping is exciting and fun until those close to you become collateral damage. I don’t want to hurt another friend or cause any more tension than I have, so I feel this is the best decision for me and where I am in life. This has been a very hard lesson to learn, even more so while in the spotlight. Thank you for taking the time to view this video and to everyone involved, please know that I’m truly sorry and I wish you all nothing but the best.”

  I stop the video and cry. Everything I’d been holding in since the first fiasco happened is now coming out. The guilt, the realization of what I’ve done, the loneliness, and the sadness all come tumbling out at once. This isn’t who I am. I wasn’t one to sacrifice my friendships for a rumor. I’m not the type to hurt the people I care about. They were all right; I am better than this. As fun as gossiping can be sometimes, it isn’t worth this.

  It was never worth this.

  5:11 p.m.

  On the couch

  I open my email and find Gary’s contact information.

  To: Gary Coefield (gcoefield@hottopicmag.com)

  From: Blake Spencer (bspencer@hottopicmag.com)

  Subject: Resignation

  Hi Gary,

  This is hard for me to do, but I’m emailing to resign from my position. I’m attaching an apology video that you’re more than welcome to post to the website. I’m sure it’ll help you guys get more views, especially after the whole hacked blog fiasco. I’m really sorry about all that’s happened. There’s no excuse for what I’ve done and I’m sorry to tarnish the Hot Topic reputation with my drama.

  Thank you for believing in me and giving me a chance to be a real gossip columnist. Although my time with you guys has been short, I really enjoyed being a part of the team. I wish all of you at the magazine the utmost success and again, I’m really sorry.

  Sincerely,

  Blake

  I attach the video, send the email, and flop back on the couch. I swear I’ve really outdone myself. Haven’t been at my job for a full month yet and I’ve already pissed off all the friends I managed to make, probably lost the boyfriend I’ve had for all but a week or so, and have now resigned from said position. In less than 30 days! That must be a new record. If the situation wasn’t so fucked up, I’d probably laugh, but it’s taking everything within me not to break down in tears again.

  Oh well. Time to brainstorm a Plan B, whatever that is.

  5:30 p.m.

  Still on the couch

  Baby Jesus? I know I’ve really screwed up, but if you could help me figure out what to do next, that would be great.

  5:32 p.m.

  Still on the couch because I have no idea what to do with my life

  I grab my computer and start to brainstorm. If I start my own blog, I’ll need a professional website. The title “Blake Daily” already comes to mind, sending a small grin on my lips. I’ll make this work somehow. With a quick check of my savings, I figure I have about three months to make something happen with this blog. It’s now or never, Blake. If you completely give up and stop writing, Madison will have won and there’s no way I’m letting that whale defeat me. I throw my hair into a bun, grab a notepad and pen from under the coffee table, and settle back onto the couch with my MacBook.

  It’s time to get down to business.

  6:57 p.m.

  Still on the couch

  I look down at my notepad and am rather satisfied with what I’ve come up with. I have a name, an objective, and a mock design for how I’d like everything to look. The only thing I don’t have is the money I’ll need to have a website professionally made and for marketing.

  Grabbing my phone, I call my mother, hoping that this idea may very well work.

  “Hello?” she answers.

  “Hi, mom. How are you?” I ask, trying my best to sound casual.

  “I’m well, dear. How is everything going there? Have you figured out what you’re going to do?”

  “Um, yeah, I have,” I say, now starting to feel nervous. “That’s actually why I’m calling.”

  “So what did you come up with?” she asks, her voice laced with curiosity.

  “Well, I’m thinking of starting my own blog—”

  “Didn’t you do that before?” she interrupted.

  “That was just a blog that I wrote in leisurely. With this blog, I want it to become big enough to be able to monetize, like a business,” I say, adding
emphasis to the ending of my sentence.

  “A business, huh?” she repeats. Bingo. Anything dealing with becoming a nurse or a business owner usually got their attention. “How could you possibly make article writing on a blog a business?”

  “Well, other business would pay to advertise on my site. Since I’d have a lot of traffic coming to my blog, it would entice businesses to want to buy ad space from me,” I explain. I tell her everything I have planned, from the name of my blog to the topics I’ll cover, even down to the estimated prices of the things I’d need to make my “business” successful.

  “Hmm…I see,” she finally says.

  “Yeah,” I say. “So…I was wondering if you and dad could give me a start-up loan?” I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing myself for what she’ll say. Her silence worries me as each second ticks by until she eventually sighs.

  “I’ll talk to your father about it after dinner and I’ll let you know,” she says. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

  “Yes,” I say confidently. “It’s something that I’m really good and I have faith it’ll work out if I put in the work required. You guys taught me to work hard, so I’ll make sure I do what I’m supposed to.” Definitely had to add that last part to butter her up.

  “Okay then, dear. I’ll talk to your father and get back with you when we’ve decided,” she says.

  “Thanks, mom. Love you.”

  “Love you, too, Blake,” she says and hangs up.

  I look down at my notepad once more and sigh. Everything that I need to do has been done.

  Now we wait.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tuesday, February 13th

  9:22 a.m.