I can’t quite be sure, but it feels like I’m floating into work as I walk down the sidewalk. It’s only been two days . . . but what a two days. I knew that story was going to be hot. I was ecstatic when Donnie agreed to give me the top header with the biggest page square footage and a big byline on our site’s homepage. I’ve already snapped screen grabs of it for posterity. It’s tabloid trash, but one day, those disguises and stalker skills are going to land me my dream job as a real investigative reporter.
I’m not picky, obviously, considering what I’m doing now. But I would like to do more than tabloid celeb hunting. Still, it was some damn fine surveillance if I say so myself. Well, other than when I ran into Keith. That was some newbie shit there, but he didn’t seem to figure out I was a reporter, at least. If anything, he probably thought I was just a fan girl trying to get an autograph or maybe cop a feel . . . which I certainly remember, even if that was a tidbit I couldn’t publish in order to cover my ass.
Wonder if he’s still trying to figure out who at the grocery store scoped him out for the expose?
I pause for coffee, greeting my coworkers Maggie and Francesca as they linger around the pot waiting for refills. They look like a study in opposites. Maggie is tiny, a deceptively curvy blonde who rocks the nerdy-librarian look while maintaining an appearance much younger than her twenty-five years. She’s a little shy but a total sweetheart once you get past her armor.
Meanwhile, Francesca is an exotic and willowy brunette who carries the practiced presence of her younger years in pageants. She never fails to mention she was second runner-up Miss Teen New Jersey. No wonder I detest the bitch sometimes.
So they’re polar opposites in personality, with Maggie being more shy and reserved to Francesca’s extroverted cockiness, but coffee is the eternal common denominator.
Francesca sips her coffee, toasting me slightly. “Congrats on the country singer story, Elise. Got everything you could want with that one.”
The words are right, but there’s a cattiness to her tone that’s always there with her. She’s always a bit chilly with anyone she perceives as a threat and sometimes an outright bitch if she doesn’t get her way.
I pour myself a mug and make sure to keep my voice neutral. “Thank you. It was hard work so I’m glad it paid off.”
She laughs, putting more meaning to words than I’d intended. “Oh, trust me, I do plenty of hard work for my stories too,” she says as she almost disgustingly slurps down a mouthful of coffee, hinting at her meaning. “It pays off in some ways more than others.”
With a wink, Francesca refills and sashays to her desk. I shake my head as Maggie half chokes on her coffee as she finally gets the meaning. Leaning in closer, she stage-whispers. “Did she just mean . . .?”
I smirk, giving Maggie a glance. “Of course. She’s totally been fucking Donnie to get the prime stories. Has been for months. Why do you think her reports are always from fancy parties, galas, and red carpet events? Hello, preferential treatment. You seriously didn’t know?”
Maggie blushes a little and shrugs. “Well, I knew she was doing something to get Donnie’s attention, and the rumors are always flying. But she’s so casual about it, just throwing it out in conversation.”
I grin, smacking Maggie’s arm. “You’re so cute when you go Dorothy Gale on me. Remember, hun, this ain’t Kansas. Besides, I can’t say I’m jealous. I’d rather work for my stories than get them by giving Donnie blow jobs under the desk. Can you imagine the dust bunnies under there? And eww on sucking his gross dick. I like my facials at the spa, thank you very much.”
I half-feign a full-body shudder of disgust, and Maggie laughs. “Ew. Now I’ll have that image in my head all day. Thanks a lot, Elise. You suck!”
I grin, blowing Maggie a kiss. “Well, in the right circumstances, yes, I do suck. Even been told I’m pretty good at it. But I think we’ve established that it’s not happening here.”
I scan the room with a pointed finger. “Yup, not happening, not happening, not happening, and never, even if he was the last male on Earth and we needed to repopulate the species. So . . . what are you working on now?”
Maggie laughs again, brightening my day. I love making Maggie laugh and blush. She’s so easy since she’s a bit innocent, and I’ve got no shame in my game and generally give zero fucks. “Nothing great. I’m currently looking into a senator who’s supposedly cheating on his wife. But I’ve been undercover as a copy-making volunteer in his office for two weeks and haven’t seen anything other than a man who works too many hours. Seems like a bust.”
“Sorry about that. At least he’s not cheating. Hell, that alone would likely make me vote for him, considering the options lately.”
Maggie grins, nodding. “Yup. He’s even polite. I’ve been wearing my cutest tight skirt and blouse whenever I go by, and he keeps looking in my eyes.”
“Maybe you don’t have the equipment that entices him?” I ask, making Maggie laugh. “What? He wouldn’t be the first politician to reach across the aisle for entertainment.”
“Nah,” Maggie says, smiling. Waving fingers at me, she walks off. “See you later, babe.”
Refilling my coffee to the top, I head to my desk too but am sidetracked by Donnie’s yelling. “Elise! Get your ass in here!”
Damn, you’d think a great prime story would at least get me twenty-four hours of peace, but apparently not. I consider saying as much as I sit in the chair across from Donnie, but when I see how red his face is, I decide to leave it be. Fuck it, I don’t need the headache. “What’s up?”
Donnie’s in a pissed off mood for some reason. “You’ve got proof on the Perkins story?”
I nod, confused but answering anyway. “Of course. Pics of him in the store, putting things in the shopping cart, including maxi pads in the hygiene aisle, and then again at the register for a close-up. Why?”
Donnie sighs, running his fingers through his thinning, greasy hair, and again I’m reminded why I could never get to the top the way Francesca does. I might be a girl who enjoys sex, but I’ve got standards. Donnie ticks none of my boxes. “I just hung up with Perkins’ people. They want a retraction and correction.”
My jaw drops open. It happens in our business from time to time, but it’s never happened to me. I’m too damn good at my job. “No way. I followed him legally, pics are in public places, thus legal, it’s obviously him, and I didn’t say anything that could be libel. It’s all true.”
Donnie smiles, relieving me a little bit. “I know. That’s what I told the guy who called too, but I just wanted to check.”
“I appreciate that you had my back,” I tell him honestly. Donnie’s a sleazeball, but he’s a dedicated sleaze. He won’t back down from a story he prints unless he has to, and that usually involves lawyers. “So, what now? We’re obviously not pulling the story, right?”
Donnie shakes his head, reaching for the bowl of jellybeans he keeps on the corner of his desk and popping three into his mouth. “No, actually, when I told him that wasn’t going to happen, he had another idea that’s pretty interesting. He proposed a series of interviews, probably three or four at least—but maybe more—with Perkins himself.”
Perkins himself? At the words, my pulse quickens. I can’t seem to keep my thoughts about him not tied up in how fucking sexy he is. “Really?”
Donnie nods. “They’re doing some damage control and wanting to write their own narrative about his life. Control the narrative, you know?”
“That sounds great!” I exclaim gleefully, and not totally professionally. “When do I meet with him?”