Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Enjoy, my friend.” I smile to myself as I think mission freaking accomplished. I walk into the back where six cubicles with two desks each are located on either side. I turn into my cubicle and see that I’m here before Brooke. I’m not surprised because she is the “Night Writer” as we call her. All those overnight celebrity reports and sightings from this morning? Yeah, it’s all her. She also works more out of her home office than in the actual office, but who can blame her. We both started here around the same time, so she’s also one of my closest friends, and we agreed to always share breaking news with each other first. In this business, it’s hard to find people you trust, but Brooke is one of those people. We also bounce stories off each other, and every Sunday morning, we meet for brunch to go over the week before.
While I’m waiting for my computer to boot up, my phone rings. Looking down, I see it’s Cedric.
“Cedric, my man, what do you have for me?” I laugh at the cheesiness of what I just said to him, but he’s my biggest informant.
“Jess,” he says, “I was just thinking of you, so I had to pick up the phone to hear your beautiful voice.”
I can’t help but shake my head at him, knowing full well the only thing he was thinking about was how much he would charge me for whatever news he’s about to share. “So the fact that I have floor seats to tonight Lakers game has nothing to do with this phone call, am I right?”
He laughs. “Darlin’, what I have is worth season tickets, so get ready to show me the money.”
“Ummhmm, let me be the judge of that,” I tell him.
“A certain football star was seen leaving his hotel room . . .” He starts talking, and I take a sip of my latte that I’d almost forgotten about.
“Cedric, that isn’t really news,” I muse.
“This football player just so happens to be a couple of weeks away from becoming a father . . . and his baby momma is a certain runway model.”
I sit up in my chair. “No freaking way.”
“I have pictures, and someone fished out a video that was taken at a strip club six months ago. You don’t need sound to see him cozying up to some Instagram model, or to see where his hand ventures,” he tells me. “And it can be all yours for the bargain basement price of 80k.”
“Cedric, you are out of your mind,” I tell him, and he waits for a second. “But you send me what you got, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Check your inbox.” He disconnects, and sure enough, the next big story is sitting in my inbox, and it has my byline written all over it.
Chapter Three
Tyler
Today’s top story: A certain runway model is in labor hours after a video of her fiancé’s indiscretions surfaces.
“Hello.” I hear someone say and finally look across the boardroom table toward Ryan, the owner of HillCrest productions. Men in stuffy suits who have no idea what they are asking of me sit around the wood conference table. They want me to pack my stuff and travel with the press, the same people I run away from, for thirty freaking days. The same ones I hide everything from, all for a press tour. Thirty days, ten stops, with ten handpicked journalists. It’s easy for them to ask me to do this because they aren’t the ones going out there.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” I ask, leaning back in my chair. “If I heard you correctly, you set up a tour I do not want to be on where I’ll be surrounded by press every minute of every fucking day. A fucking tour where I have to be ‘on’ the whole time.” I look up at the ceiling in complete exasperation. When Ryan came to me with the script, I knew I would take the role . . . not only was the script kickass, but the director was also someone I was dying to work with. Along with the fact they would pay me to skydive, ride motorcycles, bungee jump, and do all my own stunts, it was a no-brainer.
“We’ve almost got the plane ready,” Stephen, Ryan’s vice president, says, then looks around at the table. Maybe he’s hoping for someone else to speak, but no one does. “We have chosen ten journalists to come with you and get a firsthand look at the worldwide release of this movie. You will be giving exclusive interviews each day to promote the hell out of this film. We are sparing no expense on this. The contract you signed stated you would participate in the press junket, no matter the details.”