I swivel round to face her. “I’m creative.”
“You’re messy.”
“It’s organized mess.”
“Sure,” she replies, unconvinced, sitting down at her desk right next to mine. “So that means you know where everything is?”
I scan the contents of my desk—pages of old, scribbled notes, books (mostly celebrity memoirs) I’ve been sent and haven’t gotten round to reading yet, ticket stubs, passes, and lanyards—and conclude it is, admittedly, a little overcrowded.
“All that matters is I can see my keyboard,” I point out, pushing a file off the keys so I can type. “And everything else is within reach as soon as I need it. Thanks for your help in the meeting, by the way. I appreciate it.”
“Not that it did any good.” She looks pained, focusing on her screen and clicking her mouse. “That Don Bright piece almost sent me to sleep.”
“Don’t worry. I have someone lined up for the front page, and, when I secure the interview, she’ll be impossible to turn down for a front cover,” I inform her excitedly.
She turns to me, intrigued. “Do tell.”
“My lips are sealed, but ask me again tomorrow. In fact, you won’t have to ask. I’ll be shouting it from the rooftops.”
“How was the album launch last night?” Rakhee asks, suddenly remembering. “Did any of the musicians smash anything?”
“Unfortunately not,” I reply, to her great disappointment. “But it was fun.”
“Rock stars aren’t what they used to be. Did you take Liam?”
“No, but he was at mine when I got home last night.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Interesting. He’s quickly become a live-in boyfriend.”
“No, no,” I insist, opening my inbox and watching the unread emails begin to load. “He needed somewhere to stay because his housemate had a date.”
“Thanks for leaving me behind,traitor,” Mimi hisses as shesits at her desk, directly opposite mine. “Cosmo cornered me at the end of the meeting.”
“Ugh, sorry.” I grimace. “What did he want?”
“He was angling for another press trip, I’ll guess,” Rakhee mutters.
Mimi nods and leans in between our desktops.
“I know when he hears about the trip for that French golf club, he’ll want to take the spot, but I was going to offer it to Dominic. I know he’s into golf.” Mimi sighs, sitting back to log in, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping gently across the keys.
“Don’t tell Cosmo about it until it’s too late,” Rakhee suggests as she types loudly, in complete contrast to Mimi, as though the keys have somehow offended her. “Say Dominic is already booked in.”
“I can try.” Mimi tilts her head to look at me past her screen. “How was the rave last night?”
“Thealbum launchwas fun.”
“Why were you late this morning and what’s this big cover story?” Mimi asks eagerly. “Did the lead singer offer you an exclusive on his solo career? I think he’s into you.”
I look at her in panic. “Solo career? Where did you hear that? Oh my god, when did it break? I can’t believe it—they went to school together and started the band when they were all, like, fifteen years old in a garage at one of their parents’ houses! They can’t be splitting up!”
“I wasjoking!” Mimi holds up her hands. “Whoa, that was intense! And you completely skipped over the part where I said that the lead singer of a famous band has a crush on you.”
“Firstly, that joke wasnot funny.Secondly, no he doesn’t.”
“He sent you that box of donuts.”
Rakhee gasps. “Someone sent in donuts? When?”
