“Sorry,” he says, setting me down. “So, what the hell happened to Damian Miles?”
I shrug and start heading for the elevator. “I guess you’ll have to read whatever I write to find out.”
“Really? You can’t tell even me?”
I step into the lift and shrug again. “My lips are sealed.”
“But—”
“How’s Julia?” I won’t let him ask any more questions about Damian, I’m too tired to keep my lies straight so I shouldn’t be anywhere near this conversation.
He stares at me with big puppy dog eyes and a stupid sulky mouth. “Just tell me. Is he really living as a woman in Brazil?”
I bark out an abrupt laugh. “Is that what you’ve heard?”
“Jane, I’ve heard so many things. That’s all that’s on the news here. What really happened?”
“I’m really not at liberty to say.” The doors open and I step out of the elevator and rush through the lobby to the front doors. I hope Gail and Damian’s PR people come up with a really great story for him, and I hope they do it really fast.
On the subway, I shove my earbuds into my ears so I don’t have to listen to Nate. I should tell him about the male voice I heard through the phone when I last spoke to Julia, maybe that would shut him up.
I don’t, of course. I’m not a complete bitch. And honestly, Karma would have a field day with me if I did, so I’m staying far away from stirring up drama. I have enough going on in my life right now.
When we get to our building, I bust into Gail’s office without even knocking. “Gail?” I growl, closing and locking the door behind me.
She leans all the way back in her designer ergonomic chair and pushes her glasses down the bridge of her nose to look at me over the rims. “Please. Please tell me you slept with the rock star and your tell-all will start with the magnitude of his supernatural god-sized penis.”
“Um.That’sa definitive no.”
“I should have sent Julia for the story. She could have ridden the story and you could have written it.”
I roll my eyes and jam my hands on my hips. “Did you already know Damian Miles was thinking of ending everything with a grand vanishing act?”
Her smile is positively wicked.
I slump down into one of the chairs that face her desk. “You really could have let me in on the secret.”
“He was spiraling and desperate, Jane. His people were trying to save his life. They offeredyouthe story, he’s a huge fan of your writing.”
If he was a huge fan, way did he treat me like some hard-up groupie? Why wasn’t he honest with me from the beginning?
She leans forward. “What kind of a person is he really?”
I sigh and shake my head. “When he isn’t sleeping naked on my couch, he seems to have a fetish for wearing my boy shorts. I’m going to have to boil them.”
She tilts her head and gives me a long once-over. “Jane, your shirt is on inside out.”
I look down at my sleeves and she’s right. I’ve dressed myself backward, and upon further investigation, I am completely commando under my leggings.
“In other news, I love your work on the long-distance story. Most-viewed article. Again. It hit more readers than your one-night-stand piece.”
I stare at her desk, zoning.
She slides a massive folder toward me. “Add these points to your notes and you’ll have enough information and theatrics for a month of articles and a biographical account of Damian and the band.”
I look up at her.
“Everything is backed up on here,” she tosses me a thumb drive, which I don’t react fast enough to catch. “They want your snarkiness, your sarcasm and self-deprecation, and they want to make him look like a legend. Someone who issimply sinister.”
