“Did you have fun with Blake last night?” she asks him. The way she says it is as if we went all the way to home base or something. I mean not that I would’ve minded if we had.
He shrugs. “It was interesting, that’s for sure. I was there to work though, not necessarily to party,” he says. I can feel his eyes on me, but I choose not to look at him.
“Well, I was invited to a party, so I didn’t want to just use my friend for work purposes. Of course I was going to party,” I say, probably a little more snippy than I should have.
His mesmerizing eyes narrow on my own as a smirk pull at his lips. “I said that I was there for work. You were there because your friend invited you to come. There’s nothing wrong with having fun when you’re there to have fun. But I did have fun though. Last night was pretty comical.”
“So then you liked when she had her legs wrapped around you on the motorcycle?” Shayla asks with a sly grin.
He sighs and shakes his head. “Her arms were around my waist to keep her on the bike. Otherwise she would’ve flown off every time I accelerated. I was—”
“Silas!” Shamu barks from across the room. “A word, please?”
“Oooooh,” Shayla, Carrie Jo, and I say in unison.
“Someone’s in trouble,” I add and giggle. He waves us off.
“No one’s in trouble. Later, ladies,” he says and walks over to Madicunt, who stands across the room glaring at us with her hands on her hips before she nearly drags him out of the room.
“I don’t think she was too happy with your SnapChat story with him,” Shayla says.
I roll my eyes. Who gives a flying fuck what she likes?
11:42 a.m.
Meeting Room
“Okay, listen up, turds and turdettes,” Gary says, propping his foot up on an empty chair. “I’d like to take this moment to congratulate Blake and Silas for their good work last night. Let’s give them a hand.”
Everyone in the room claps and whistles except the blonde slut monkey. How petty of her.
“You guys caught some really great footage and got some awesome pictures. I’d say you two make a hell of a team.” Damn right, we do.
I glance over at Silas, who leans against the wall with his arms crossed. His face is expressionless as he listens to Gary drone on about something boring.
“Blake?”
I blink and focus on Gary. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I wanted to let you know that you’ve done great work on your first week here. If you keep this up, you might give Madison a run for her money. You remind me a lot of her in her earlier days,” he says.
Madicunt rolls her eyes. “That’s insulting, Gary. She’s nothing like me.”
Gary straightens his posture and pulls up his pants a little. “Well, if she continues what she’s doing, she could end up being better and becoming the new creative team leader. You better find that spark that got you hired in the first place.” He walks toward the door and waves. “Okay, back to work everyone.”
If I could bottle the look on Madison’s face after Gary’s comment and sell it, I’d be a rich a lady.
Priceless.
12:31 p.m.
Break room
“Sooo,” Leo says as he sits down at the table with Shayla, Carrie Jo, Caesar and me. “Someone’s not too happy with you, Ms. Blake.”
I huff and crunch on a carrot stick. “That’s nothing new. She’s always bitching about something.”
“So should we start calling you our new creative team leader or what? You’d be a shit ton better than her,” Caesar says with a chuckle.
“I heard it was because he took you home. She thinks something more happened,” Leo explains, jumping back to the gossip about last night and giving me a weird look. “Did something more happen?”
“Not that it would be anyone’s business, but no. He took me home and said he’d see me tomorrow before driving off. It’s really not that big of a deal.”
Just as I mentioned it, Silas walks into the break room and pours himself a cup of coffee. Madicunt follows in soon after, glaring at me as she passes and heads to the refrigerator. I ignore her.
“Si, come sit with us,” I call, waving him over.
He looks up from his mug and strolls over, pulling a chair from another table to sit in between Leo and Caesar. I cut my eyes to Madicunt to see her eyeballing me with her cunty eyes with a scowl on her cunty face. Bite me, bitch.
“So what are you guys over here talking about?” Silas asks, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Oh, nothing important, other than being jealous that you two looked like you had a lot of fun at that party last night,” Leo says.
“Speaking of,” Silas starts, putting his mug on the table. “Did she tell you how I had to play body guard at one point? A guy dancing with her got a bit too frisky.”
“Are you into saving damsels in distress?” Madicunt asks from the microwave. “I always imagined she was the desperate type, but I never thought you’d fall for that bait.”
“But then he danced with me so that the guy wouldn’t come back,” I say, smirking at Madicunt when she glares at me. I’m not going to feed into Free Willy’s nonsense today. “He’s a pretty smooth dancer.”
“Oooh, dancing, eh?” Shayla jokes. “That should’ve been in your SnapChat story.”
It could have been had I not lost Taylor in the crowd. That would’ve been the perfect nail in the coffin for Madicunt. But then again, what she doesn’t know will keep her wondering, which is good enough for me.
“You didn’t bring anything to eat, man?” Caesar asks him.
Silas shakes his head. “Forgot my lunch at home, but I’m good.”
“You can have half of my turkey and swiss sub,” I offer, pushing it over to him. He scrunches his face in disgust and shakes his head.
“I can’t eat that.”
“Not a turkey lover?”
“I’m not a meat lover. I’m vegan,” he says.
Vegan? Oh boy. But cheese! And bacon!
But cheese!
Bacon!
2:57 p.m.
At my desk
Things I’ve managed to complete so far:
1. Booked tell-all interview with Hannah Burgess for January 20th. Woot woot! Go me! Go me!
2. Followed up on leads for two hot tips from the tip box.
3. Written two articles based on said tips.
4. Spy on Milo via the little doggy cam I recently got. I swear that dog acts like he’s on speed. He literally zipped around the living room for nearly 15 minutes like a madman.
I glance across the room and marvel at Silas clicking around on his computer. God, he’s sexy. But then Madicunt rolls her chair over to sit next to him and blocks my view, smirking at me as she tosses her shiny blonde hair over her shoulder.
If baby Jesus could push her into a sewer drain already, that would be great.
5:04 p.m.
Clocking out
“Hey Blake, a few of us are grabbing a couple of drinks at the bar a few blocks from here. Wanna come?” Leo asks as he pulls on his coat. Although drinking again is the last thing I want to do after last night, I figure it’ll be nice to have company than sitting around with my bipolar dog.
“That sounds fine,” I answer.
I plop down in a nearby chair and begin scrolling through Facebook. A pang of sadness and a sliver of guilt trickles into my spirit when I see tagged photos of people who used to be my friends. After what happened back in my small town in North Carolina, the opportunity to start fresh in a new city and state was godsend. But I miss them and what we all had. There are times I even miss my ex-boyfriend Cameron, but there’s no going back after what I’ve done. I should’ve learned then how harmful gossip could be, but apparently not. Instead, I only created a private, password-protected blog so that I can write all my gossip with no consequences. All in the name of gossip, I suppose.
Silas moves past me and heads for the door. “Hey, Silas,”
I call. “Are you coming to the bar with us?”
He shakes his head. “Can’t. Have to help with some last minute things for an animal rights protest this weekend,” he says, pulling his coat on.
I think for a moment. Maybe it won’t hurt if I go…I mean it would give me another opportunity to get to know him without Madison cramping my style.
“That sounds interested. Is it open to the public?”
His eyes widen a little in surprise, a smirk playing on his lips. “You actually want to come to an animal rights protest?”
“Sure. It’s for a good cause,” I say.
He strokes his chin a few times, his lips forming a slight frown as he thinks. “Okay, but don’t show up wearing leather, fur, suede or those weird Ugg boots you wore once. And definitely don’t come with a murder sandwich,” he says.
I smirk at him. “A murder sandwich? That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”
“Well, eating meat is murder. Just like drinking milk contributes to the rape of cows. You have so much to learn, young grasshopper.”
What in the actual fuck.
What have I gotten myself into?
He reaches into his back pocket and takes out a black marker, pulling the top off with his teeth. “Here,” he says, taking one of my hands into his. It takes everything within me to remain calm as he scribbles something on my palm. “Text me later and I’ll let you know where we’re meeting and what time.” He turns and starts to walk out, but suddenly stops. “Unless you’re too chicken to come.”
“Oh, yeah right,” I scoff, a weird giggle slipping out as I wave a dismissive hand. “I’ll definitely be there.”
“Good. See you around,” he says and walks out.
Once I’m alone, I look down at my palm. 212-347-9018.
I HAVE SEX BOMB’S NUMBER!
Sweet baby Jesus on a tricycle.
FUCK YES!
Shayla stops a few paces away from me with a raised brow as she slips her arm into her coat. “What are you squealing about?” she asks.
I blink at them. Had I been doing that out loud? “What are you talking about?”
“Dude, you were just in here squealing like someone slapped a pig on the ass,” CJ says as she joins us.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Ready to go?” I say, composing myself.
Shayla and CJ exchange looks and shrug. “Let’s go then. It’s the weekend, bitches!” Shayla says, looping her arms through CJ and mine and leading us out the door.
5:47 p.m.
Kingston Bar and Grill
Happy Hour (I think. Is Happy Hour until 6? Who knows?)
Shayla, Carrie Jo, Leo, Caesar, and I all sit around a round table sharing baskets of wings and onion rings. Everyone else has beers, but I can’t tolerate that, settling for a glass of water instead.
“How are you liking the magazine, Blake?” Caesar asks, licking ranch dressing from his thumb.
I take a sip of water. “It’s pretty good aside from the fact that the creative team leader seems to have it out for me for whatever reason.”
“Jealousy,” Shayla sings. “I’ve told you that a ton of times.”
“Well, she should get over herself. I’m simply trying to do my job.”
“You’re doing a damn good job at it, that’s for sure,” Leo says, reaching into the basket holding the onion rings.
“Yeah, you hadn’t even been with us for a week and have already been to celebrity parties and getting inside scoop on stories we could only dream of covering first, and you managed to book what could possibly be the hottest interview of the year,” Shayla adds.
“Thanks. Just trying to prove that I belong here,” I say, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.
“So what’s going on with you and Silas? He doesn’t talk much, but after the party, he seems to be a little more talkative when it comes to you,” Leo presses. “That man is gorgeous.” Yes, he is.
“Nothing is going on. We’re just friends, that’s all.”
“Well, I think he may be interested because he asked me if you were single,” Shayla says, wiggling her eyebrows.
I give her a playful push. “You’re such a liar. He asked me that last night while we danced,” I say. When all of their eyes narrow on me accompanied with smirks, I know I’ve said too much. “It’s not what you think. We were only dancing so that the guy harassing me wouldn’t come back.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t be blushing,” Carrie Jo notes.
“Anyway,” I say, moving away from the topic. “All in all, I’m really glad to be here. You guys are pretty cool to work with.”
“Of course we are,” Caesar chuckles.
Carrie Jo looks at my glass of water. “You didn’t want a beer?”
“No way,” I say, shaking my head. “I had enough to drink last night to last me through the rest of the week.”
“I’m still so jealous you went to that party. Next time you’re invited, I get to go,” Shayla says and pouts.
Leo wags a finger. “No, ma’am! I would need to go. I am the fashion police after all.”
“You guys can battle it out when the time comes,” I joke.
“What did you do before you moved here?” CJ asks.
“Worked in retail and blogged in my free time. It was a small town, so there wasn’t much in regard to journalism opportunities like I’ve had since being here.”
“How did your friends react when they heard you got a job here? My friends freaked,” she says and giggles. I swallow the lump forming at the base of throat. My friends back home are nonexistent after the gossip meltdown happened. Many people were hurt, betrayed, and even physically harmed after what I’d said to the wrong people. The retaliation from my mistake made me so paranoid I hardly left my house unless I absolutely had to and I ended up having to quit my job due to my victims coming there to harass me. Now that CJ asks me about them, I realize how alone I truly am. I don’t even keep in much contact with my own family after leaving, feeling as if I needed to just…break away from all of that and start over. There’s no one to tell about my new job or my new life except Milo, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t give a damn as long as he has food and something to hump.
“They were excited,” I lie, forcing a grin on my lips.
As CJ babbles about her transition from Kentucky to New York, I think about those back home. I wonder what my old best friends, Audrina and Casey, are up to now. The last time I’d seen them both, they’d thrown martinis in my face and told me to go to hell, blocking me from every social media outlet and not speaking to me since. Cameron, my boyfriend at the time, broke up with me as soon as he caught wind of the things I’d said about him. His last words still echo in my head to this day. Is that how you really feel about me, Blake? Everything you’ve ever said to me was a lie? Since I’m such a mama’s boy and a terrible ball player, and awful in bed, and not really cute but easy to tolerate, we shouldn’t be together then. And you can go fuck yourself. You’re nothing but an evil, conniving, gossiping bitch who doesn’t care about who you hurt.
“B?” Caesar calls, bringing me out of my brooding. I blink, feeling a tear roll down my cheek. “You good?”
I grab a napkin, dab my eyes, and clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say softly, grabbing my glass of water with a shaky hand. No one takes their eyes off of me for a moment until Leo starts catcalling one of the bartenders. I seriously need to pull myself together and leave the past in the past.
This is your new start. Don’t fuck it up.
7:56 p.m.
Outside my apartment
As soon as I stick my key into the lock, Taylor’s apartment door opens. A new guy steps out, his tie undone, shirt still unbuttoned and his hair a messy mop on top of his head.
“So, I’ll follow up with you to let you know if you have the gig or not,” he says, fixing the buttons on his shirt.
Taylor nods and puffs on her cigarette, wearing nothing but a long t-shirt as her fiery red hair hangs in leftover curls fr
om last night. I’ll have to ask her what kind of hairspray she uses if she still has a hint of a curl almost twenty-four hours later.
“I’ll be waiting for your call!” Taylor calls behind him as he walks down the steps before turning her attention me. “Oh! Hey there, Carolina. That was pretty ah-mazing last night, right?”
“Yeah, it was fun. Thanks again for inviting me.”
“No problem. How did it go with the evil witch at your job?”
I chuckle. “She definitely wasn’t pleased. And she wasn’t happy that a guy she has her eye on at work took me home on his motorcycle.”
“Ha! You should’ve SnapChatted her face. I would’ve loved to see it,” she says, taking another pull from her cigarette. There’s an awkward silence for a while before she speaks again. “There’s another party tomorrow if you’d like to come with.”
My eyes widen. Two parties in less than a week? Bring on the lifestyle of the rich and famous!
Well, maybe poor and unknown. I’m simply the tagalong.
“Um, sure. Anything good supposed to happen?”
“Not that I know of. It’s one of those after-parties for an award show. If anything, maybe you’ll meet someone so you can stop ruining my fun at night,” she says with a smirk.
“I’m not trying to ruin anyone’s fun. You know these walls are thin and I’m sure you’ve heard you aren’t the quietest person in the world.”
She takes one last puff from her cigarette before putting it out and flicking the butt in an ashtray stand thing near her door. “Touché, Carolina,” she says, pushing off her doorframe. “I’ll text you the deets for the party. What’s your number?” I stare at her a minute, realizing that she hasn’t grabbed a pen and paper or her phone. “Well, are you going to give me your number or are you going to continue staring at me as if I have three heads?”
“Aren’t you going to get something to write it down with?”
Musings of a Gossip Queen: A Chick-Lit Comedy Page 7
