“I donothave a thing for him,” she emphasizes.
I smile and say nothing.
She lifts her eyes to the sky before relenting. “Fine.I’ll see what I can do.”
I beam at her. “Thank you! And when she agrees—”
“Ifshe agrees,” she corrects. “Let me remind you, she has refused to speak to any journalists for sixteen years.”
“We can sort it quickly, yes? I want to break this before any other journos come sniffing around. We go to press in three days—I can turn it round by then and guarantee she gets the front page.”
“Fine, fine. You know they haven’t even started rehearsals yet?”
“Tickets will be sold out within minutes of being released. I’ll have her audience primed and ready.” I drain the last of my coffee. “You’re the best, Shamari. Call me when you have it locked down and we can organize a time and place for the interview. I’m around all of today and tomorrow.”
“You’re talking as though she’s already agreed to it,” Shamari mutters, pushing open the door to her office building.
“If anyone can do this, it’s you. Oh, before you go,” I say quickly, “speaking of Heather Violet, how is she doing?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I saw that her ex, that record producer, was spotted out for dinner with someone else—when I interviewed her, she was totally smitten with him. I read about their breakup a few weeks ago, but it still feels quite soon for him to be openly dating. I’ve been wondering if she’s all right.”
Shamari looks at me curiously. “You really aren’t like the other journos, are you? I haven’t spoken to her about it, but when I do, I’ll say you were asking after her.”
“Thanks.” I check the time on my phone and give her a wave. “I’m off. Let me know when Audrey wants to do the interview!”
“Ifshe wants to do the interview,” she calls out after me, her voice echoing down the street as I hurry away in the direction of the tube. “If,Harper!”
CHAPTER TWO
“Harper,” Cosmo greets me in a strained voice as I hurry into the meeting room. “How nice of you to join us.”
I somehow get the sleeve of my blouse caught on the door handle, so I have to take a couple of steps back to free my arm before entering the room properly.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone,” I announce brightly, addressing the whole editorial team dotted around the long table.
“One of these days, you might just surprise us, Harper, and be on time for something,” Cosmo grumbles.
“I’m late today for a very good reason,” I justify, sliding into the empty seat nearest the door. “I’ve got a great scoop!”
“Oh?” Cosmo snorts. “Some pop star get a buttlift? Or perhaps a model has released a groundbreaking statement that she—shock, horror—drinks green juice? I seem to remember you were late last week for a ‘very good reason’ also, which turned out to be chasing down a B-list teenage actor involved in some ridiculous cause.”
He sniggers. I fix him with a steely glare.
“You mean the nineteen-year-old Academy Award nominee leading a campaign to highlight the lack of access to clean water for billions of people across the world? Is that the cause you’re referring to asridiculous?”
Cosmo flushes, his jaw clenching.
I catch Mimi’s eye across the table. She flashes me a winningsmile before turning to observe Cosmo’s reaction like the rest of the team.
“Of course not,” Cosmo mumbles eventually, clearing his throat. “A very important issue in the world today. Anyway, as I was saying before I wasinterrupted,we need to discuss cover options.”
As he begins his usual practice of firing questions across the table at every editor but me, I fish my notepad out of my bag in case by some miracle he’s interested in any of the pieces I have lined up for the next issue.
Cosmo Chambers-Smyth: editor-in-chief of our magazine,Narrative,and a constant belittler of my job. He has been in his post for a year and a half and still finds my role here as celebrity editor completely baffling. Our previous editor had been supportive of my work, so it was quite the shock when during Cosmo’s first editorial meeting, he burst out laughing when I introduced myself, before saying, “No, really, what is youractualjob title?”
Cosmo used to be a features editor forThe Correspondence,the newspaper for whichNarrativeis the weekend supplement magazine, so we’d all seen him waltzing through the open-plan office before, strutting about like he owned the place. Fifty-something, he’s extremely proud of his thick mop of dark wavy hair, which he meticulously combs to one side. With his permanently smug, self-congratulatory attitude, Cosmo is unabashedly pompous and entitled. He makes snide comments about his (no doubt long-suffering) ex-wife, is much more at ease in the company of men, and seems like the type of guy who isn’t afraid to say that it’s a crying shame private members’ clubs around London opened their doors to women.
