She cringes at the continued vibrating, realizing it’s a call. Expecting it to be Joel, she’s surprised to see Leo’s name on the screen when she finally looks. Her heart sinks, knowing she probably shouldn’t have quoted him in the article, even anonymously.
She huffs out a short breath before picking up, bracing herself. “Hey,” she says, too cheerfully. Her whole body is tense.
“What the hell is with this article?”
She closes her eyes and deflates.
“Those conversations were supposed to be confidential. Me helping you out on the down-low. But now I see my words verbatim all over the internet…”
Naomi opens her mouth to defuse the situation, but Leo talks before she can. “My boss is pissed, knows someone’s been talking to the press, wonder how long it’ll take for them to figure out it was me.” He mumbles something she can’t quite make out.
“Listen, Leo, I’m really sorry… I mean technically you never said it was confidential, so…” She knows she shouldn’t have added the last bit, but couldn’t help herself.
He laughs, annoyed. “Right, yeah, sure. Well, don’t bother asking me for any more favors. I see what this was now. You got what you wanted. I’m done.” He hangs up.
She rubs her hand over her eyes, slamming her phone on the countertop with the other. “Fuck.”
She’s tempted to hurl the phone across the room when it vibrates again, but refrains when she sees it’s her friend Jessie.
Still up for going out tonight? I can get us VIP at the Standard! 9 p.m. if you’re in.She’s added a smirking emoji followed by toasting champagne glasses.
Naomi completely forgot about her plans with Jessie and the thought of socializing makes her head hurt. But she could do with a distraction. And a drink. Many drinks.I’ll see you there, she replies.
*
Rising tall against the Hudson River, the Standard, High Line is a New York City staple with every luxurious amenity imaginable. Rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows, sweeping views of Manhattan and the Hudson, a legendary rooftop club, rotating art installations, a German beer garden, and a steakhouse. The perfect place for Naomi to try and take a break again, hopefully a successful one this time.
Not that Joel would be happy about her going MIA after unleashing that bomb of an article into the world. He already tried calling her twice, once just before she left the house and again before she got on the subway. She can tell by his “Call me. Now.” follow-up text that he isn’t pleased. She’s not ready for the fallout, though, so she decides she’ll enjoy her night and face him tomorrow.
Naomi stares at the white textured walls of the hotel as she waits in the lobby, imagining herself being transported to an alternate reality, a world where no one is angry with her or wants to kill her. One where her sister is alive.
“Hi!” a voice calls out behind her.
Naomi swings around to face Jessie. She’s grinning from ear to ear, her hazel eyes sparkling against the colored LED lights. She is wearing a black mini dress with Doc Martens and a black beanie that half-covers her long caramel-colored hair, an outfit Naomi could never pull off. She leans in for a hug and they hold each other for a moment. It’s been almost a year since they last hung out.
“It’s so nice to see you,” Jessie says, squeezing her again. “How’s it been being back?”
Naomi sighs. “It’s been… a lot.”
“I bet.” Jessie shoves Naomi playfully.
Naomi shakes her head. “Harlow Hayes has been the bane of my existence for the past week.”
“Betcha never thought you’d say that,” Jessie laughs.
“No, I did not. How about you, how’s everything?”
“Yeah, all good thanks, just busy. Currently working with my boss to put together the list for the Songwriters Hall of Fame’s next induction.” She smirks mischievously. “I could probably sneak you a name or two next week if you need a story.”
“That would be amazing, thanks,” Naomi says instinctively, although she’s not nearly as excited as she normally would be about a future tip; she’s too swept up in Harlow Hayes and the suspected murder of her sister.
The elevator dings and people pile out as the doors open. Jessie gestures for Naomi to follow her.
“Look familiar?” Jessie gleams as she darts her gaze around the silver walls.
Naomi frowns, racking her brain for why an elevator would be familiar, and then it hits her. This is where the infamous fight between Solange Knowles and Jay-Z took place. Naomi was only a senior in high school when it happened ten years ago, but it’s something every entertainment reporter knows about.
“Is this the actual elevator?”
