“That’s what she said,” I mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing. What do you want, Lucas? I’m on stage in ten minutes, and I’d like to meet my fellow panelists.”
His expression shifts to something more professional. “Just a heads up.Survivoris releasing the same weekend asTerminal Velocity, and we’ve decided to collaborate on marketing. I was hoping you could tease it when you’re doing promo for Sophia and Edie’s podcast.”
I consider this for a moment. It’s actually not an unreasonable request, and cross-promotion could benefit everyone involved. “Fine. Send me theinfo. Is that all?”
“That is all.” His face relaxes into something genuine. “Thank you.”
“No problem, Senator.” I can’t help the dig, knowing how much he hates being associated with his father’s political ambitions.
His smile vanishes. “Not funny.”
I break out my best shit-eating grin, enjoying the way his jaw tightens. He’s such an easy target. “Stick around for the session. Maybe you’ll learn something about communications.” I back away and head toward my cohorts.
I make a point of warmly introducing myself to each of them. I spent all last week learning about each panelist, their strengths, backgrounds, and even their weaknesses. Not that I’ll use the latter here, but it’s always good to know who you’re dealing with. Our panel topic is “The State of the Creator Economy,” essentially discussing how the information age is changing. Anyone can share news now; a degree in broadcast journalism is no longer required, though I’d like to think my Boston University education is part of why I’ve done so well.
I’m paired with Courtney Cooler, a YouTuber with 2.5 million subscribers who has a weekly show reporting on pop culture. The others are Jackson (that’s it, no last name), a TikTok self-help guru with over ten million followers; Tyler the Comedian, a stand-up comic turned podcaster; and me, the entertainment journalist giving the trades a run for their money. We’re the setup act for all the other sessions, showcasing what’s working, while the later panels will discuss what could work.
“Jess Lexington! I’m so honored to meet you in real life!”Courtney squeals as she wraps her arms around me in an enthusiastic hug. She’s all oversized sunglasses, glossy brown curls, and contagious energy. She’s the kind of person who could go viral for just existing at a farmer’s market. I dare anyone not to fall in love with this woman. She’s been one of my favorite content creators for years.
“Same, Courtney. I’m totally starstruck. I’m a huge fan!” I return her embrace, genuinely pleased to meet her.
“Oh, stop it. Tell me more,” she says with a laugh. That breaks the ice with the rest of the group, and we take the few minutes before our session to get acquainted.
Our casual bonding proves valuable when Courtney smoothly references my first big break when I broke the story on several producers who were deeply involved on the wrong side of the #MeToo movement. It’s something I’m incredibly proud of and work I know my mother would have championed had cancer not taken her too soon.
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 atVariety. 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 onewho 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 ruinedthe 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.
