Blissful Disaster

by Amy L. Gale

  “You’ve got mail,” blares from my computer.

  I click on the link.

  Ali,

  Please meet me in my office in fifteen minutes. I’d like to discuss your Elle Crowley piece.

  Jane

  Great, she didn’t even include a salutation. Not a good sign. I get it, it’s not what she expected since it’s the complete opposite of my debut article but it’s real. Plus, she’s the one who left for assignment and put her assistant in charge of handling the feature.

  I take a deep breath and shut off my cell phone. Okay, no more distractions. I need to prepare myself for the epic battle I’m about to face. I slug some water and pop a piece of spearmint gum into my mouth. Maybe I can choke on it as my means of escape if things get too out of hand. I glance at my watch. Being late on top of everything else might push her over the edge. I pat down my skirt and high-tail it to Jane’s office.

  Every time I’m within twenty feet of Jane’s office it’s like I’m on another planet. Everyone scurries, clinging folders to their chest and refraining from speaking. The only sound is the clicking of shoes against the tile. Fear can make people do crazy things. Why do I feel like I’m about to learn this firsthand?

  Claire spots me and trots over, opening the door. I smile. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to thank her. Maybe because I know what’s about to happen.

  Jane looks up from her desk. “Ali, have a seat.”

  I fidget with my fingers and plop into the hard leather chair. It’s almost as cold as her stare. “What would you like to discuss?” Like I don’t know the answer to that one.

  She takes off her glasses and sets them on the table. “The feature wasn’t at all what I expected.”

  Her eyes peer into me. A chill runs down my spine. Dear God, she’s more intimidating without the glasses. “Is something wrong?”

  She shrugs. “You tell me. Is this the piece we discussed?”

  I nod. “I was completely honest and wrote everything that was described.” I nibble at my nails. Well, she wanted me to write a brutally honest piece without sugar coating any of the details, and that’s exactly what I did.

  “The piece portrays Nash as the villain and Elle as a victim. Is that what you think she is?” Jane pulls out the article and scans the pages.

  Yes, she and Nash were both victims. Their lives killed their love, and that’s the bottom line. It seems you can have extreme success or extreme love but not both. “I recorded the entire interview and wrote the brutal, honest truth she told me without leaving out anything… just like last time.”

  Jane taps her pen on her desk. “Just keep in mind that you need to leave your personal life out of your writing.” She slides on her glasses. “Claire will hand you your assignment on your way out.”

  Jane was much easier on me than I thought. Maybe she couldn’t argue with the facts. I wrote an honest piece and recorded the interview. It just wasn’t the controversial feature she was hoping for. Plus, she’s kind of a hypocrite. The Devil’s Garden interview went sour because my personal feelings inadvertently got in the way, which is exactly what she liked about the article. I guess if it brings in better ratings, she can overlook what sparked the story.

  I bolt out of her office before she finds more discussion points about the article or being a field reporter for Entertainment Rocks! Once the door closes behind me I let out the deep breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Okay, that’s over, and I’m happy with the outcome. Now, on to the next project.

  I stop at Claire’s desk. “Hi. I’m here to pick up my next assignment.”

  Claire nibbles her lip. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

  I grab the manila envelope and sneak into the elevator right before the door closes. So far I hit the music scene, then sports, maybe this time it’ll be someone in television or movies. I open the file and leaf through the pages. Wait… this can’t be right. I slam the file shut and double check the front of the folder. I scan the tab and make sure Claire hasn’t handed me the incorrect file. Ali Whitman blares in red ink across the tan tab. Yep, no mistake here. It’s mine.

  ***

  Chloe stabs a cucumber with her fork. “You’re joking, right?”

  I shake my head and tear into my double cheeseburger. “Wish I was.” I slug a gulp of cola. “Next stop Foo Foo’s Pet Spa.” My stomach turns as I hear the words leave my lips.

  “Look on the bright side, maybe you’ll meet a celebrity and can fire up your own interview.” She drops her fork in her half eaten salad. “It’s not the end of the world, darling.”

  Yeah, easy for her to say. She’s not the one trying to become a respected reporter. “Nope, just the end of my career, which barely started by the way.” I shovel a load of fries into my mouth.

  Chloe pushes my dish away. “Getting fat won’t make things better.”

  I shrug. I need something… anything to give me some sort of pleasure. Memories of my night with Tyler flash through my brain. Tingles sweep through me. “A little indulgence never hurt anyone.”

  She chuckles. “Sounds like famous last words.” She slugs her water. “You can make any article great, no matter what it’s about. Do your thing. Write an awesome Ali Whitman piece.”

  “The subject matter makes a hell of a difference. What am I supposed to report on, the most popular dog shampoo fragrance?”

  “Add a little spice… like Nash Crowley spends ten thousand dollars a year on manicures for his dog but won’t buy his wife the car she always dreamed of.”

  My lips upturn to a smile. “That’s ridiculous… and I’ve had enough of the Crowleys for one lifetime.”

  “What I’m trying to say is that you can turn this article in any direction you want.” She blows me a kiss. “Tootles, I’ve got to head. Keep me posted on the pooch pampering.”

  “Funny.” I slug the rest of my soda and wave.

  She’s right. I’ve got to make the best of this. What other choice do I have? If only Jake didn’t see that text on my phone. If there’s anything I learned in my time on this earth, it’s that the past can’t be changed and dwelling on it only makes things worse. I’m going to rock this article and hit Jake where it hurts, on the printed page.

  ***

  The aroma of wet dog and oatmeal shampoo flow through my cubicle. So Foo Foo’s was not at all what I expected. Actually, it pretty much mimicked a regular spa except the patrons were furry and probably nicer than the ones I sit next to when waiting for a manicure. Everything was spotless and extremely professional. The pricing was outrageous, but then again, pets are family and should get to enjoy the best life has to offer. Of course, no celebrities showed up. They send their assistants to handle these types of occasions. I should’ve known.

  I fire up my computer. If there were a pet salon back in Seamist, I would have taken Josh’s Golden Retriever, Buddy there and given him the works. If any dog in the world deserved to be treated like a king for a day, it’s Buddy. Whenever I’d go to Josh’s house Buddy’s tail wagged so vigorously I heard the thump of it banging against the wall all the way at the end of the driveway. No creature in the world was more loyal. Josh’s parents even took Buddy to the funeral, and he laid right beside the casket the whole time, staring down as they lowered his best friend into the ground. A dull ache fills my chest. The few times I left my house after that, I’d see Buddy sitting on Josh’s porch staring into space and when he saw me, the thump of his tail echoed like a distant memory of happiness. My walks became less frequent. It was just too hard. Josh was everywhere, and I couldn’t handle any more pain. But then I couldn’t get Buddy off my mind. He lost his best friend and rather than console him, I left him too. A stray tear runs down my face. He’s probably sitting on the porch right now staring off into space and wondering what he did wrong to make everyone leave him.

  “You okay?” Claire stands in the opening of my cubicle clutching a stack of folders.

  I wipe away a few more tears. “Yeah, just missi
ng an old friend.”

  She hands me a paper. “You got a message.” She gives me a quick once over and slowly walks away.

  Why is Claire hand delivering a message instead of calling or emailing me? My stomach drops to the floor. Oh God, Jane must have something up her sleeve. I mean, a handwritten note is probably the most private way to give a message. Hackers can get into emails, and phone calls can be traced, but a handwritten note is one of the only things that can be completely destroyed without any evidence of it ever existing. I run my thumb over the post-it.

  Wow, if my mind would only wander like this more often maybe I could write fiction novels rather than interviews. Claire was probably on her way back here and it was just easier to stop at my desk. Jane already told me exactly how she felt about my feature and punished me with this dog spa story. What else could she possibly do to me? Ah, note to self, never ask that question.

  I set the note down on my desk and gently scan the blue ink. The words slowly come into focus.

  Ali,

  Kate Winters from Newswatch Weekly Magazine would like to speak with you. Please call her back at 555-200-3070.

  A kaleidoscope of butterflies flutter in my stomach. Oh my God, Newswatch Weekly wants to talk to me? I’ve sent out at least a dozen applications to them but was rejected for every position. There’s no way they’d be interested in the stories I’ve written so far. Newswatch Weekly is on their way to being the next Time Magazine. I look over the note again.

  I get it. This is one of Jake’s little jokes, and he managed to get Claire in on it. Asshole. He knows my dream is to write for a magazine like this. It’s my own damn fault for telling him. Now I see why Claire didn’t want to send an email, no proof of this nonsense on the company server. I’m sure calling this number will send me to some stupid message saying, “You got punked.” Way to act mature, like a professional. Well, I’ll play along with his little game. Girls invented this type of warfare, and he’s about to get annihilated.

  I grab my cell phone and dial, tapping my heels against the floor as the phone rings. Maybe if Jake were a little more creative, he’d do better in this business. I mean, in 7th grade Rachel Higgins sent me a letter that was supposedly from Justin Timberlake asking me out to prom. At least she put in a little more effort and mailed the damn thing. Plus, it was well-written, unlike Jake’s cheesy articles. I guess I’m stooping to his level for even calling, but I need to get this settled once and for all.

  “Newswatch Weekly Magazine, how can I direct your call?” A voice says.

  Oh my God, it’s the real number for Newswatch Weekly. Great, I’m about to make a fool of myself. I glance at the note. “Kate Winters, please.”

  “Thank you. Please hold.”

  My heart thumps like the woodpecker back in Seamist that always seemed to wake me up at six in the morning every single day. I know, I’ll just tell Miss Winters that Jake gave me a message that she called. Then he’ll look like the irresponsible, unprofessional, asshole that he is.

  “Kate Winters.”

  Oh God, this was so much easier in my head. I clear my throat and swallow hard. “Hello, Miss Winters, this is Ali Whitman. I received a messaged that you’d like to speak to me?” My voice shakes.

  “Ah, yes, Ali. I heard you went through quite the ordeal.”

  Which one? My life this far has been a series of ordeals, most of them unfavorable. “What do you mean?” It’s all I can say.

  “The earthquake. I was stuck in an elevator once for three minutes, and it felt like an eternity.”

  How does she know I was stuck in an elevator? I wasn’t interviewed by the news and no one made too big a deal about it at work. “Not the best scenario for those of us who are claustrophobic. Did the rescuers tell you about the aftermath?”

  She muffles the receiver for a second. “No, my brother owns Sunset records. Tyler’s band is recording their new album, and he told everyone about the earthquake. He also mentioned you were a reporter.”

  Oh my God, Tyler’s almost as connected as the mafia. And this phone call, it’s real. Not a prank but genuinely real, and Tyler’s the reason Kate is talking to me. After the article and the meeting with his band that went sour, Tyler stuck his neck out for me knowing everyone else with him at the studio wants my head on a stick. Heat flashes through me like wildfire.

  “Yes, I’m currently writing for Entertainment Rocks! magazine, which is how I met Tyler.” Okay, so it’s a lie, but it sounds so much better than the truth.

  “How would you feel about writing a piece about the earthquake for us? Of course, it would be an informative piece about the effects of being trapped in an elevator during a natural disaster. The fact that you were trapped in with a rock star is an interesting twist.”

  Oh my God, am I stuck in a dream? I press my lips together, desperately trying to prevent myself from screaming YES into the receiver. I swallow and take a deep breath. “Yes, I’d love to write for Newswatch Weekly. How long of a piece would you like?”

  “Wonderful. We’d need the story in one week. Around 2000 words is a good length. Oh, and run through your contract with Entertainment Rocks! quickly to make sure you’re able to freelance. Most contracts for new reporters allow that option.” She muffles the phone again. “Please give me a call later this week and we’ll set up a lunch meeting. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

  “Yes, me too, Kate. Thank you.”

  I drop the cell phone on my desk and lean back in my chair. It’s really happening. I’ve got my once in a lifetime shot, all courtesy of Tyler. Normally I’d find a million reasons why I should work my way up on my own and never take charity from anyone… especially the guy I’m currently hooking up with, but it’s different this time. Tyler might have gotten me the big break I’ve been hoping for, but the rest is up to me. Time to start researching everything I can about near death experiences, earthquakes, claustrophobia, and the power to resist the hero standing right in front of you. I guess I need some help with the last one.

  An ear to ear grin bursts through. I can’t help it. For the first time since I can remember my will power is at an all-time low and I love it. The stars aligned and turned my life into a glimpse of what it once was… perfect. I gaze around the rows of cubicles, watching the few people staring at me while they’re pretending to do something else. The office staff probably thinks I’m way too excited for my pampered pooch article. Who cares? For once, I’m savoring every second. Oh, but first I need to thank a certain someone.

  Maybe he tossed my name to Kate for some publicity for Devil’s Garden or he could’ve wanted to help make my dreams come true since his already have. No matter, the result is still the same and if it helps us both in some way, even better.

  I tap the buttons on my cell phone and dial Tyler.

  “Tyler’s phone. Speak to me.”

  A chill runs through my blood. My luck just ran out. The condescending tones from Jenna’s voice rip through me.

  “Hello, I haven’t got all day.” Her voice drips with sarcasm.

  Of course, my name’s probably flashed on his screen once the phone rang so she knows exactly who’s she’s talking to.

  “Tyler please.” I sigh.

  “Umm, I think you and Tyler spent enough time together for one lifetime. The rest of us have certainly had enough of you for eternity.”

  Looks like we’re off to a great start.

  “Listen, Jenna, we all got off on the wrong foot. I understand your hatred for me, but I really need to talk to Tyler. Can you please put him on?”

  She taps her fingernails on the receiver. “Naw, don’t think so. On either case.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Okay, so that came out a little harsher than I wanted.

  “Umm, you have no idea how much I despise you, but the fires of a thousand hells comes to mind. And I’m not putting Tyler on. If you really care about him, stay the fuck away from him. All you do is bring him down and if you don’t realize it
, re-read the article you wrote. We’ve all had enough of the Ali Whitman experience.” She ends the call.

  In a split second the joyous euphoria turns to utter disgust. I get it, I screwed up and it affected Tyler’s career yet he’s trying to help mine. I’ve got to make this right, with the article, with the band, and with Jenna. Is it even possible to do anything to melt Jenna’s cold heart or am I about to make a deal with the devil?

  CHAPTER 12—DECISIONS

  Ethics, moral value, integrity… they’re pretty much in the eye of the beholder. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have hacked into the Entertainment Rocks! files to find Tyler’s address but what other choice did I have? Jenna managed to highjack his phone like some deranged ex-girlfriend. Except for the fact that she’s never dated Tyler and has this “mother bear” complex. I get it, they all watch out for each other, but she takes it to a whole new level. Time to break out the claws and finish this once and for all.

  I sigh. Why do I let her do this to me? I’m right back in Seamist walking with my head held high and Josh at my side right after I’m crowned Homecoming Queen, sneering at Krissy Brown. Of course, Krissy’s plot to steal Josh by walking into the boy’s locker room and snapping a selfie with him was so asinine. When she posted it with the caption, Look Who I Intercepted, my heart shattered. I knew Josh would never cheat, not in a million years, but I hated her for making me doubt him for that one second. She turned me into someone I don’t want to be, just like Jenna’s doing now. Josh got her back by posting a pic of the whole football team giving a thumbs up with the caption, Krissy intercepted us all. She gained the reputation she deserved, dirty slut. Even though Jenna is astronomically more diabolical than Krissy, she’ll get what she deserves eventually, from our good friend karma.