He glares at her. “If you want to get fired,” he mutters, “go right ahead. Then I wouldn’t have to put up with you anymore.”
Though she glances at Donovan and me, Gina turns her focus to her coworker and speaks in a mocking undertone that’s a lot louder than she must think, since I can hear every word. Clearly I was wrong about her being timid; there’s plenty of bite in her words. “Look at me, I’m TobyPenning and I’m so much better because I’ve been here three months longer.”
“Iambetter,” he argues sharply. “That’s why I’m the senior writer.”
“You got lucky. It’s not my fault I had a dentist appointment!”
Toby groans. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“If I hadn’t been gone, you never would have gotten that Derek story!”
“So why’d I get all the rest of them, huh?”
“Because you’re a suck-up and gave Brenda access to your account!”
“Don’t go there!” Toby snaps. Both of them have progressively grown louder as their argument continues. “Miss ‘I’m going to suck up to the boss and have no creative integrity’ is going to lecture me? You write whatever he tells you to.”
“He’s oureditor. That’s literally what we’re supposed to do! You know what we’renotsupposed to do? Take bribes from the boss’s wife.”
I don’t know whether to shout at them or start laughing, and Donovan seems to be equally confused as she comes to stand at my side and join me in watching the writing team implode as if they’ve entirely forgotten that we’re standing here. What should we do? Clear our throats to remind them we’re here? Wait until they run out of steam after giving us all the answers we came here for?
This all feels too easy. I still need to speak with my mom’s husband, but it’s obviousHot Scoopis hanging by a thread. Something tells me it isn’t going to take much to stop them from terrorizing celebrities. Assuming, of course, the two writers ever shut up and let me speak.
“Derek Riley,” a man says behind me, his calm words barely audible over the shouting.
Donovan and I turn to find a white-haired man standing in the open doorway. The writers go quiet at the sight of him, but not for long.
“Mr. Shaw!” Toby croaks. “I thought you weren’t coming back to town until tomorrow.”
Shaw’s expression pinches as he looks past me to his employees. “Plans changed,” he says gruffly.
“Can I grab you a coffee, Mr. Shaw?” Gina asks, hurrying forward. She stumbles to a halt when Shaw glares at her.
“You,” he says, pointing at her. “Sit. You.” He points at Toby. “We’re having a talk later.”
Toby gulps and slowly sinks into his chair, ghostly pale. I would almost feel bad for the guy if he wasn’t one of the voices behind all the hate against my friends.
Shaw’s expression is inscrutable as he glances between Donovan and me as if sizing us both up. He takes a slow breath, then jerks his head for us to follow him to a door at the back of the office.
I hesitate for only a second before I squeeze Donovan’s hand and step into the small room which must be Shaw’s office. The door closes behind us, and almost instantly Gina and Toby jump right back into their argument. Thankfully, the door muffles most of the noise.
Shaw sighs as he takes his place at his desk with an expression that can only be described as resigned. He doesn’t seem at all surprised to see me, which makes me wonder how long he’s been waiting for me to show up. “Take a seat,” he says, gesturing to one of the chairs. His eyes travel to Donovan, lighting up with interest that instantly puts me on edge again as he nods toward her. “Miss Tate.”
As she sits next to me, Donovan’s spine is straight, like she’s as ready to get out of here as I am and doesn’t see the point in getting comfortable.
Shaw sits just as stiffly, hands on the arms of his chair. Despite his white hair, he looks like he can’t be older than fifty, and unlike my mother with her anti-aging surgeries, everything about him seems to be natural. “Derek, I’m sure—”
“You runHollywood Hot Scoop?” Donovan asks sharply.
Shaw blinks. “What?”
She shrugs. “I figured if we get the accusations out of the way, this’ll go faster. A yes or no works.”
“Yes?”
“Was that a question? No wonder it’s falling apart if you don’t even know your own company.”
“I know my company, Miss Tate.”
