Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75015 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“I should get back over there.” Twyla placed a hand on my arm. “You know how the younger reporters get when they’ve had one too many.”
Benson was one of those younger reporters. I’d been reporting for three years more than he had, yet he was on the same level and vying for the same position I was. And they say misogyny is fading. Bullshit!
Twyla took off and I watched for a moment as she stood before him, looking into his eyes with stars in her own, nodding, grinning. My phone buzzed again. It was another call from Zoey. I’d have to call her back when I left . . . which was most likely going to be in the next ten minutes.
First, I had to pee. I polished off my wine and ventured out of the room to find the restrooms. A man and a woman brushed past me, nearly knocking me a step backward as they made their way toward the elevator. I peered over my shoulder, scowling at their backs.
Once I got to the stall, I heard giggling women enter the bathroom.
“I wish Twyla would just let her go already,” one of the women said. Through the thin slit of the stall, I saw them stop in front of the mirror.
One wore a blue dress, the other a gray one. Janna and Bree. Of course. Girls who wrote columns on fashion trends, donuts, and the best bikes to ride in the city. Newsflash, no one should ride a bike in this fucking city unless they want to be flattened like a pancake.
“Right?” Bree said. “She’s not even that good.”
“Did you hear about her husband?” Janna said in a lower voice.
“No.” Bree gasped. “What are you talking about? Details, bitch.”
“So, I don’t know how much of this is true, but apparently, she walked in on her husband cheating on her. Like, right in her house, Bree. Can you fucking imagine?”
My throat thickened with a mixture of emotions.
Frustration.
Rage.
Sadness.
“Stoooppp,” Bree said, exaggerating the word. “She did not.”
“I swear that’s what I heard. Apparently, it happened months ago, but Hailey saw a note about it or something when she was clearing Twyla’s desk. Now Rose is clocking all these hours and coming up with all these stories because she has so much time on her hands. She’s kissing Twyla’s ass so hard, but I keep hearing Benson is going to get the senior reporter position. Poor woman is going to get her heart broken again.”
“Well, he should get it.” Bree chortled. “He doesn’t come with all that baggage. Seriously. Rose is so fucking weird. She makes all of us look bad.”
That’s it. Time to shut that shit down.
I flushed the toilet, unlocked the stall door, and trotted out. Both girls peered over their shoulders at me before looking at each other and fighting smiles. I took the sink between them, giving my hands a wash before reaching around Janna for a paper towel. After drying my hands and tossing the damp paper in the trash bin, I made a show of running my fingers through my box braids, completely unbothered by their presence. I even applied a new coat of lipstick to add to the nonchalance.
They fingered at their mascara-heavy lashes, swiped their lips with gloss, pretending not to notice me. Done with my show, I started to leave the restroom, but a darker thought snuck its way in and made me stop in my tracks.
“Janna, didn’t you bring your boyfriend with you tonight?” I asked.
Janna gave Bree a nervous glance. “Yeah. Why?”
“Because I’m pretty sure I just saw him sneaking to the elevator with Virginia,” I answered. “And I’m pretty sure they’re going to her office right now so she can suck his dick and then ride it. But I could be wrong.”
Janna’s jaw dropped. Bree’s eyes widened. She was lucky I didn’t have petty dirt on her. I’d seen her washing up in the restrooms one early morning before anyone else was in, and she had a duffel bag next to her feet. It was dirt, but I wasn’t low enough to make fun of a homeless person.
With a smirk, I twisted on my heels and left the restroom. If there was one thing about me, it was this: Even if I felt weak, I’d be damned if I let anyone shit on my job and how hard I worked.
Having a cheating husband was one thing, but being stellar in my career was another. I was good at what I did.
Janna and Bree knew this and were simply jealous of it. Normally I ignored them and their snobby looks, but things were changing now. I was done being the nice girl—the sweet lady who takes the high road. Sometimes it felt good to unleash my pettiness and hit people exactly where it hurt.