Chapter 1 #2
Before that exposé, I was covering D-list celebrities at charity events and alumni baseball games.
After taking down an entire production company, I quickly rose to entertainment reporter at Variety.
Since then, I’ve bounced between entertainment pubs before going independent almost three years ago.
I wanted to tell more immediate stories, to speculate and share opinions. I wanted the freedom to be biased, even if it’s a journalist’s cardinal sin, according to everything I learned at BU. My podcast gave me that freedom, and now I’m thriving.
Midway through the panel, as I’m scanning the audience, I spot my best friend, Blair, in the crowd.
I can’t suppress the smile that automatically appears.
She’s my ride or die, the one who was in law school when the #MeToo revelations broke, helping me navigate what I could legally report.
When she shifts in her seat, I notice Lucas sitting behind her, rolling his eyes at something I just said.
God, he’s insufferable. Why is he even here?
“Reach out to Courtney and Jackson for a possible episode on how mental health and pop culture are dominating conversations right now. Period,” I dictate into my phone’s voice notes immediately after the session.
“Maybe ask Jackson how he feels about offering advice on a platform he’s telling people to limit their time on.
Period. Does he ever feel like a hypocrite? Question mark.”
I’m standing just outside the conference room, tucked into a quiet corner of the hallway.
Most of the attendees have filtered into other sessions by now, leaving the corridor oddly still.
The carpeted floors muffle any foot traffic, and the only sounds are the distant hum of slot machines bleeding in from the far side of the casino and the soft, echoey clink of silverware from a nearby banquet setup.
For the first time in hours, it’s just me and my thoughts, and I’m trying to get them down before the next conversation pulls me away.
I finish just as Blair reaches me, her arms wide for a hug.
“That was fire, babe!” She embraces me tightly, and her familiar, citrus-vanilla flavored shampoo momentarily grounds me in the chaos of the convention.
“Thanks. I saw Lucas sitting behind you. Almost ruined the whole session.” I adjust the strap of my messenger bag across my body.
“I hardly believe you’d let him ruin anything. Seems like you’d crush him before he could ever bother you.” Blair’s perfectly arched eyebrow rises in challenge.
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave dismissively. “How long are you here? Can you come with me for a drink? I have to meet up with Marcus for a few minutes.”
“I thought you didn’t like him?”
“I don’t, but I need him to still like me until he doesn’t like me anymore.” I tuck my phone away.
“Sorry, babe, but I’m headed to the airport,” Blair says, with her oversized tote slung over one shoulder and a giant iced coffee in hand. “I was only here to see you, and now I’ve gotta get back to LA. Promised Wyatt I’d be home in time for dinner.”
A familiar rush of gratitude floods my chest. Of course she flew in just for this. Of course she rearranged her whole weekend to hear me speak for forty-five minutes and then immediately turn around and fly home. That’s Blair.
She never makes a big deal out of these things, but they always land like love notes anyway. The fact that she came just to support me, no agenda, no networking, just…me? That means everything.
“Ugh. You’re so in love. Disgusting,” I tease, but there’s no malice in it.
I actually adore Wyatt and Blair together.
They’re the epitome of “meant to be.” After crushing on each other and hooking up in high school, a miscommunication tore them apart before they left for college.
That’s when I met Blair and encouraged her to get over him by getting under someone else (solid advice, right?).
When she heard that Sophia Ford was looking for new representation, she realized that Sophia Ford was actually Sophia Bradford, Wyatt’s younger sister.
Paths crossed, old feelings rekindled, and now they’re the most beautifully in-love couple I know.
I couldn’t be happier for my best friend, even if their perfect relationship makes me slightly nauseated.
“Safe travels and lunch next week, ok?” I give her one more quick hug.
“Definitely. Love you. Be safe!” She squeezes my hand before heading toward the exit.
As I navigate through the growing crowd, I spot Lucas again, surrounded by a pack of executives with slick hair and shark smiles.
He’s in full PR mode, nodding along like he’s listening, with one hand in his pocket and the other gesturing just enough for him to seem thoughtful without committing to an opinion.
Our eyes meet briefly across the room. A zing of awareness shoots through me, annoyingly precise, like my body clocked him before my brain could remind it that we do not like this man.
It’s not attraction, obviously. It’s just hyper-vigilance, like spotting a fire hazard—or a red flag with a nice jawline.
I look away first, but not because I’m flustered. I’m just smart enough to keep walking.