Musings of a Gossip Queen: A Chick-Lit Comedy

by Victoria Bright

  “I’m more anxious than I am nervous, I guess,” I say with a light sigh. “Still can’t believe I work at a magazine.”

  “A shitty one at that.” When I glare at her, she holds her hands up defensively. “Hey, they have a reputation of putting some very hurtful things out about people, sometimes without even knowing the facts.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be like that,” I snap. Well, maybe. Perhaps.

  “I sure hope not,” she says, slipping her iPhone into a pouch strapped to her upper arm and untangling her ear buds. “I’ve seen a lot of friendships and relationships damaged due to gossip and tabloids. Don’t get sucked into the madness.” With a parting wave, she turns and runs in the opposite direction of me until she fades into a group of commuters. Realizing the time, I skip down the stairs and rush down the sidewalk. I better pray I make it there in time or else I’ll need to start thinking about how I’m going to decorate my cardboard box for when I’m homeless.

  8:20 a.m.

  Train

  The train is crowded as it usually is, but I lucked out and am able to find a seat near the back. I pull out my iPad Pro, flip out my keyboard, and open my password-protected Tumblr blog.

  Blake Unfiltered blog post #783

  A few thing important things before 9 this morning.

  1) Taylor would make a horrid porn star. Instead of modeling, she should try out for a Planet Earth animal voiceover or something. And her new guy looks like an Ashton Kutcher reject. Can you say desperate? Can’t believe he had the nerve to tell me I needed to get laid so I’d stop worrying about the noise. I wouldn’t have to worry about the late night wolf calling if my own dog didn’t take it as a dog toy challenge at nearly five in the morning. Just thinking of the sleep I missed and how tired I am pisses me off.

  2) I should really hide my bunny slippers from Milo. Wouldn’t be surprised to come home one day to see a bunch of baby bunny slippers moving around. Okay…that was just dumb. That couldn’t even physically happen.

  3) The lady in 2C is going to get caught one of these days and it’ll be glorious. How in the hell do women cheat on their husbands or boyfriends and then end up kissing them on the mouth after all of that? Just the thought of swapping spit and God knows what other kind of bodily fluid makes me want to vomit my entire existence.

  4) Marty really does have a John Wayne Gacy vibe about him. Totally creepy and predator-like. He actually reminds me of that weird guy that was in the second Human Centipede movie. Oh my fucking goodness. What if he’s creating a human centipede in his apartment?! Nah, his mom would probably have a fit, but that’s if his victims don’t die of suffocation from the extreme mothball stench that permeates their apartment and entire hallway of the second floor.

  Today I start at Hot Topic magazine. Still can’t believe I’m working at a magazine! The opportunity to meet celebrities, do what I love (which is writing, of course), and getting paid to gossip is an absolute dream. Hopefully today will be great! All in the name of gossip, right?

  xoxo,

  B

  Chapter Two

  9:00 a.m.

  Hot Topic magazine office

  Just keep cool. Just keep cool.

  Who am I kidding? I CAN’T BE FUCKING COOL!

  I pull open the door to Hot Topic and immediately become overwhelmed with excitement. Here I am, a place I’ve dream about for two years and now am finally here! The atmosphere buzzes with animated chatter, laughter, and ringing phones as I slowly make my way further into the building. It’s surreal to be here. When I started my public blog, I never expected for it to give me the opportunity to be a gossip columnist for a popular tabloid magazine. How lucky am I?

  9:02 a.m.

  Check-in desk

  A woman with flowing jet-black hair, slanted eyes, and delicate features on porcelain skin sits behind the desk clicking away on her computer mouse. I stroll over to the desk and smile.

  “Hi, I’m—”

  “One sec, I’m three moves away from beating my high score,” she says, never taking her eyes off the computer screen.

  Sure, make me late on my first day playing a stupid game.

  “But I really—”

  “Juliet, if you’re playing that stupid jewel game during work hours again, I’m going to start docking your pay,” a deep voice says as he approaches the desk. He looks to be in his late forties, his hairline is receding, but yet he has a full scruff along his jaw. Probably should’ve wished for the hair to be on his head and not his face. Seems a little too young to be balding the way he is.

  “Oh no, not playing any games, Gary! Just doing productive work,” she lies, beaming up at him.

  He glances at me and scratches his head. “Wait a minute…you’re the new columnist right?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say with a nod, extending my hand to him. “I’m—”

  “Blake Spencer, yeah,” he interrupts, shaking my outstretched hand. “I recognize you from your blog. Pretty nice work you do on there.”

  “Thank you,” I say, heat rushing to my cheeks.

  Fuck me in the ass with a cactus! Gary fucking Coefield thinks my blog is pretty nice!

  “All right, that’s enough hand holding,” he says, letting go and turning back to Juliet. “Page Shayla down here and let her know the new columnist is here for her to show around.”

  “Yes, sir,” Juliet says, picking up the phone. When Gary’s out of sight, she turns her eyes to me. “Sorry about that. That was very unprofessional of me.”

  You got that right.

  “It’s totally fine,” I lie with a nonchalant wave.

  She nods and dials a number, waiting a few moments for the call to connect. “Hey, Shayla? It’s Juliet. The new columnist is down here and ready for the tour…I’ll let her know, thanks!” She hangs up and looks at me. “She’ll be down in a few minutes,” she says.

  “Thank you,” I say, pushing off of the desk and looking around the rest of the lobby. The walls are covered with past issues, many including some of my favorite famous faces that I have written about myself. I pinch the back of my hand. This definitely isn’t a dream. There’s no way this day can get any better than this!

  9:23 a.m.

  Still in the lobby

  Yeah, I fucking lied.

  Actually, in a sense I didn’t, because it doesn’t get better. It has just gone straight to Hell in a hand basket.

  I quickly spin around on my heels to return to the desk to wait for Shayla but instead collide into a body that smells strongly of the kind of perfume those Victoria’s Secret employees walk around spraying and suffocating people with.

  “Watch where you’re going, you ingrate!” the blonde-hair woman screams, looking down at the dark brown stain on her cream-colored blouse as she pulls it away from her skin. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

  “I—I’m so sorry!” I sputter, not really sure what to do. It isn’t like I can pull napkins out of thin air to help her clean up.

  “Sorry isn’t going to clean my blouse, now is it?” she snaps.

  A few people around us are now looking in our direction as she causes a scene over spilled coffee. So mature.

  “It was an honest mistake, Maddie,” a smooth voice says as they walk into view. The most gorgeous guy I’ve probably ever laid eyes on (well, excluding Dwayne Johnson, Channing Tatum, and maybe Adam Levine, but we’re not talking about celebrities here) comes into view, looking at this blonde cunt with concern.

  “We got off on the wrong foot. I’m—”

  “I don’t care who you are,” she spits. “Just stay out of my way.” She storms off, pulling the sex bomb behind her.

  “I see you’ve met Madison,” someone says behind me. With the luck I’m having with turning around, I almost don’t want to move. Luckily I don’t have to, because she walks around and stands in front of me. “You must be Blake.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t expecting a mistake to be blown so out of proportion,” I say. She extends her ha
nd, a warm smile stretching across her lips.

  “She’s always like that, so don’t mind her,” the woman replies. “I’m Shayla.”

  I shake her outstretched hand, relieved that there’s finally another person other than the boss with some kind of decency and professionalism. She looks like a pleasant person; her bright brown eyes scream genuine sincerity and the warm smile she gives me is comforting. Maybe I can get this day back on the right foot.

  “Well, ready to get the 411 about this place?” she asks, adjusting the black fedora on her head.

  “Of course,” I answer, excitement coursing through my veins.

  “Then let’s get this party started!”

  She definitely gives me a run for my money in regard to keeping up with her. Her long legs are quick and move through the bodies of people with ease while I damn near trip over my own two feet trying to stay close to her. If this is how quickly we’re going to walking during this tour, I think I could log this in as cardio on my fitness tracker. I can count that, right?

  9:43 a.m.

  The office

  I’ve been catfished.

  I should call the police on every single person that works here. Here I am thinking this is going to be the coolest place ever, but the only great thing about this building is the lobby. The rest of the place looks like a regular office building with cubicles, breakroom, and meeting rooms. How the hell can they expect someone to be creative when everything is so…drab?

  Ugh. Fucking hell.

  “So now we’re going to meet your creative team,” she says, pulling open a glass door and motioning me to walk inside. A group of people stand around chatting, oblivious to our presence. I look around the room. Nothing spectacular here aside from the cool-looking beanbag chairs in the corner.

  “Is this some kind of sick joke?” I hear someone say. I cringe, already familiar with the cunty voice to know who it’s coming from.

  “Madison, she's the columnist,” Shayla says and turns to me. “She's our creative team leader.”

  Oh, fuck me.

  Not only is this major tit a complete bitch, but she's also higher up than me. Madison looks me up and down and scowls, tossing her shiny blonde hair over her shoulder.

  “Ugh, where does Gary find these rejects?” she mutters, turning her attention back to her computer.

  “Anyway, the guy over there with the camera is Silas. He's one of our many photographers,” Shayla says, pointing to the gorgeous guy from the lobby. So the sex bomb has a name. “Hey, Silas! Come say hey to the new girl!”

  He looks up from the camera and strolls over to us. “Hey, new girl,” he says in that sexy, smooth voice of his. His gunmetal blue eyes twinkle with amusement as he looks at me, probably remembering the mishap from the lobby.

  He’s even better looking up close. His brown hair is messy in a sexy, rugged way and dark facial hair dusts his jawline, framing a set of perfect, kissable lips. His white teeth are a stark contrast to his tanned skin, which is almost eerie in a sense, but sexy nonetheless.

  After realizing that I’ve been staring too long, I clear my throat and extend my hand. “Hi, I’m Blake,” I finally answer.

  He gives my hand a firm shake, sending chills through me as his calloused hand touches mine. “Nice to meet you, Blake. Welcome to Hot Topic,” he says, letting go of my hand and walking away before I can utter another word.

  Sweet baby Jesus on a motorcycle. That man is walking sin and I’m sure he knows it. Uh, Satan? I’ll take a first class ticket on the Hell train, please. Destination: Sex Bomb’s bed!

  “And these guys,” Shayla says, steering me toward the group of people who huddled around one computer. “These are the cooler people.”

  “What the hell, Shayla? Am I not cool enough to be introduced?” a guy says, pushing away from his desk and standing.

  Shayla rolls her eyes. “Oh right, how could I forget you?” she says dryly. “Blake, this is Kevin, another photographer. Kevin, this is our new columnist Blake.”

  Kevin wags his bushy eyebrows and runs his fingers over his scratchy-looking stubble. “When they said we were getting a Blake, they didn’t say this Blake had a pair of tits,” he says, winking at me.

  Um, ew.

  No wonder Shayla didn’t want to introduce him. The guy is a bona fide creep. Even if he hadn’t opened his mouth, I would’ve steered clear of him anyway. He has a terrible bowl cut, which is quite pathetic considering that he looks too old to still get haircuts from his mom, and his thick brown mustache makes him look like one of those creeps you wouldn’t want living close to you because he peeks through your window with high tech binoculars and telescopes. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has one of those beat up vans that has “Free Candy” spray-painted on the side of it. His beady dark eyes peer at me behind thick frames that he keeps pushing up on his nose and his thin, dry lips are pulled into a sinister grin as he looks me up and down. His eyes make me feel so violated. Perhaps I should get a restraining order on them.

  Shayla shakes her head and releases an audible sigh. “Geez, Kev, don’t creep her out on the first day. She hasn’t even been in the building for an hour and is already being harassed,” she says, grabbing hold of my arm and pulling me along. Thank fuck.

  They all finally turn around and wave to us. A dark-haired guy wearing a pink Polo shirt, khaki pants, and matching pink dress shoes folds his arms across his chest.

  “Well, who is this supermodel?” he asks, a playful smirk pulling at his lips. His beautiful light brown eyes sparkle with curiosity as he sizes me up, but a genuine, friendly vibe radiated from him. If I have to guess what he does here, I’ll bet money he probably does something fashion-related. He’s perfectly matched from head to toe with every strand of hair in place. He looks a bit like a walking Ken doll, except I don’t see any kind of muscle definition anywhere. Either way, he’s adorable as hell.

  I giggle and wave. “I’m Blake.”

  “She’s the new columnist,” Shayla adds.

  The guy’s smile turns into a slight pout as he huffs and shakes his head. “Well, someone could’ve told me this Blake wouldn’t have a penis! I was looking for more office male candy,” he says and laughs.

  “Geez, was everyone really expecting a guy? You’ve never met a girl named Blake before?” No one says a word.

  This isn’t awkward at all.

  “Well, I’m Leo. Welcome to the team,” he says.

  A brown-haired woman who looks a bit too young to work here steps forward. “Nice to meet you, Blake. I’m Carrie Jo,” she says. The simple floral dress and leggings she has on automatically tells me she’s a country girl living in the city before I even heard her cute accent. Her voice is soft and kind, and the smile she gives me immediately make me feel at ease despite the shitty start I’ve had since being here.

  “But we call her Kentucky because of her country accent,” Shayla jokes. Carrie Jo sticks her tongue out at her.

  “I’m from North Carolina, so you’re not alone,” I say.

  Her eyes widen as her face lights up. “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit! I finally have a country sister who’ll understand me!”

  “So damn country,” Leo says and laughs.

  They step aside to reveal the person sitting at the computer, but all I can see is the back of the chair they’re sitting in and the long, beautiful hair that covers their head. It isn’t an afro, but it isn’t curly either, falling in wavy kinks down their back.

  “C, the new girl is here,” Carrie Jo whispers to them.

  When they don’t turn around, I clear my throat and take a slight step forward. “I must say I have major hair envy right now. You’re rocking that hair, girl.”

  Everyone around me snickers, leaving me confused. What, can I not give the girl a compliment without it being weird?

  As soon as they turn around in their chair, I see why they laughed.

  “Thank you, but actually I’m all man,” his deep voice says with a hint of humor.
I gape at him for a few moments, completely mesmerized by his hair. He has deep brown eyes and strong facial features, and a beard covering his face. The red sweater he wears fits him perfectly, showcasing broad shoulders and a strong chest. The sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, displaying an array of inked art. “I’m Caesar.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I—your hair, it’s—can I touch it?” I ask.

  He laughs and nods. “Knock yourself out. You can pull it if you want,” he says with a wink.

  I run my hand over it and am amazed at how soft it is. This man can grow hair all the way down to his ass and it’ll still be soft and perfect. Meanwhile, no matter what I do to my hair, it still manages to feel like it’s made of crushed Doritos.

  “This isn’t a hair exhibit,” Thundercunt barks as she passes. “We’re on a deadline, so please get back to work.” She pauses and looks at Shayla and me. “You haven’t been here an hour yet, new girl. Don’t become a disruption to my team.”

  I grind my teeth and force a grin to keep my lips from curling back. “My name is Blake and I’m simply meeting them,” I say.

  “Whatever,” she says and disappeared through the door.

  “Don’t worry about her,” Carrie Jo says. “Sometimes she makes about as much sense as tits on a bull.”

  “What does that even mean?” Leo asks.

  I laugh. “I totally get you, CJ.”

  She claps and bounces up and down. “I like that nickname! You’re going to do just fine here,” she says.

  I smile as I look around at my new co-workers. I’m sure I’ll do fine here, too.

  10:01 a.m.

  My new desk

  I HAVE MY OWN DESK AT A MAGAZINE!

  And the fact that it’s positioned where I have a great view of Sex Bomb’s gorgeous face is a perk. God, I love this place!

  “Okay, Spencer,” Gary says as he approaches me. “Here’s your name badge that you’ll swipe to clock in and out and your welcome folder. Your email login and all that good stuff is in there.” He turns to Shayla. “Get her up to speed with how everything works, will ya?”