Musings of a Gossip Queen: A Chick-Lit Comedy

by Victoria Bright

  No, no, no. Don’t be morbid, Blake. I’m sure it’s not that drastic. I’m sure he’ll sleep it off and everything will be fine in the morning. I hope so for her sake, at least.

  xoxo,

  B

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday, January 26th

  9:04 a.m.

  Hot Topic Magazine

  I sit at my desk, occasionally stealing glances at the empty cubicle across from me where Shayla should be sitting. She still isn’t here, which is odd because she’s usually one of the first ones here.

  Carrie Jo walks over to me and sits on the edge of my desk. “This weekend was crazy, wasn’t it?” she asks.

  “Yeah, it was. Have you seen or heard from Shayla since we left?” I ask, looking around again. Carrie Jo shakes her head. Shayla never responded to my text I’d sent her, so hopefully things are okay.

  Silas and Madicunt walk through the door together in deep conversation that seems to end when their eyes fall on me. She rolls her eyes and moves to her desk as Silas strolls across the room to where I sit.

  “Morning, ladies,” he says to Carrie Jo and me.

  “Morning, Silas,” Carrie Jo replies as she stands. “When you get some free time, let’s chat about the project. I have a couple of ideas I want to run by you.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” he says and turns his attention to me after CJ leaves. “I could’ve sworn we were supposed to have dinner and a movie yesterday.”

  I give him a small smile. After what happened at Shayla’s Saturday night, I spent the entire day yesterday worrying about her. If I would’ve gone out with Silas, I would’ve spent more time obsessing over getting a response from her instead of paying attention to him,

  “Sorry, things were a bit hectic,” I say.

  “I’m just messing with you,” he says with a soft smile.

  “Oh, I have some good news,” I say, remembering Taylor.

  “What’s up?”

  “So I’m assuming as soon as you gave Taylor her pictures, she started submitting them to different places for work,” I start.

  “Yeah?”

  “She’s been asked to walk in a fashion show this Thursday.”

  “Really? Wow. That’s pretty damn awesome. Fast, too,” he says in surprise.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Did she tell that old guy?”

  I snicker. “I don’t think she will. When I asked her about it, she went on about having this epiphany of how she wanted to do this for herself and not to prove someone wrong. Either way, I am rather proud of her. It seems like that shoot did her a lot of good.”

  “That’s good for her. Now let’s hope the person that actually matters likes them,” Silas says, running a hand through his tousled hair.

  “Any word on how long it’ll take to get a response?”

  “I’ve been following his social media. He’s currently out of the country, so who knows? All I can do is wait,” he says. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I watch him as he walks away, noticing Shayla flying through the door and to her desk. She looks fine aside from looking a bit rushed and winded.

  “Everything okay?” I ask as she flops down in her seat.

  She blows her bangs from her face. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” she asks.

  “I was just asking,” I say. She doesn’t say anything else, simply turning on her computer and pulling things out of her bag.

  Okay then.

  I guess we’re all pretending that nothing happened on Saturday and that she left me to worry about her for the rest of the weekend. Noted.

  10:09 a.m.

  Still at my desk

  Taylor: Hey Carolina, want to come with me to my dress rehearsal this evening? Maybe you can write something for your magazine!

  Holy Santa Claus shit. Taylor, you fucking genius!

  I jump up from my seat and cross the room to Madicunt’s desk. She stops clicking on her computer and cuts her eyes to me briefly before turning back to her computer.

  “Can I help you?” she mutters. Sweet baby Jesus, give me to strength to not strangle her this week.

  “I have an idea for our project,” I say.

  “Great,” she replies, her tone dry.

  I roll my eyes. “My model friend is walking in a fashion show. We could cover it.”

  She stops clicking and looks at me. Yeah, I bet I have your attention now, you witch.

  “Cover it?” she repeats.

  “Yes. I guess we can make an issue on how things are set up and then be sure to capture the final product in pictures. She’s invited me to the dress rehearsal this evening,” I say.

  She looks at me thoughtfully, or at least what I think a thoughtful whale would look like. “I guess that could work. We’ll need to take a camera this evening.” No shit, Sherlock.

  “Okay then. I guess in the meantime, we can start working on filler articles and mock ads that we’ll include with all the pictures we take,” I say.

  “Okay then,” she says and turns back to her computer. I walk back to my desk, feeling accomplished. Maybe helping her rub elbows with celebrities will get her get the stick out of her ass.

  12:27 p.m.

  Break room

  Shayla enters the break room and stops at the coffeepot, pouring herself a cup. I grab my lunch from the fridge and walk over to her.

  “I texted you over the weekend,” I start as she takes a sip.

  “Sorry. Things got a bit busy afterwards. It’s okay though. Nothing happened. Sorry you guys had to see that. He’s not always like that,” she says. Yeah, that’s not what Pia, Diana, and Marissa says, but whatever.

  “Well, I had fun. Thanks again for inviting me. Your friends are fun,” I say with a small smile.

  “Hey Shayla, ready to start planning this project?” Caesar asks from the doorway.

  “Yeah,” she says over her shoulder. “I’ll catch you later, Blake.”

  I join Silas, Carrie Jo, and Leo at the table. Silas smirks when I pull a salad from my lunch bag. “Nice lunch,” he says.

  “Are you on a diet or something?” Leo asks.

  “No,” I answer. “Silas just made me watch something horrid over the weekend and now I feel a bit too guilty to eat as much meat as I used to.”

  “What was it?” Carrie Jo asks, taking a huge bite of her pastrami sandwich.

  “Earthlings,” Silas answers, raising a brow as bits of meat fall from CJ’s sandwich.

  “Is it scary?” CJ asks.

  “It’s graphic. It basically shows the abuse and cruelty that animals go through in order for us to have food, clothes, furniture, and God knows what else.”

  “It’s basically a huge dose of truth, but it’s very informative,” Silas adds.

  Leo shudders and shakes his head. “I think I’d rather live in ignorant bliss. I’m not very good with graphic things like that,” he says.

  “So how was everyone’s weekend?” I ask, wanting to change the subject.

  “Mine was pretty chill,” Leo says.

  “Same,” Silas replies.

  “Ours was a bit interesting, right, Blake?” CJ says.

  “Yeah, definitely,” I say.

  Leo raises a brow. “You guys hung out and didn’t bother to invite me? I thought we were friends!”

  “Shayla had a girls’ night thing at her place. It was…interesting, to say the least.”

  “Ah, you must’ve met the drunk,” Silas says.

  I look to him. “You’ve met him?”

  “Once. We had a Christmas party one year and Shayla brought him. He got super wasted and embarrassed the hell out of her. We used to have a fish tank in the team room, but he broke it when he threw a fit because Shayla was talking to Caesar and his date,” Leo explains.

  “That was my first time meeting him. First impressions weren’t very good. I wanted to jerk a knot in his tail when he called us the b word,” CJ says.

  “I wanted to kick him in the balls when he called my d
og ugly,” I add and Silas snickers.

  “I have no idea why she’s stayed with him for this long. He’s nothing special,” CJ says.

  Who knows, but it’s not my business. My mom always said that when a person’s fed up, they’ll eventually make the necessary changes. Shayla will know when it’s time for her to walk away if that’s what she wants to do. It’s not something I can concern myself about.

  2:47 p.m.

  At my desk

  I try to focus on gathering article material for my group project, but I’m having a hard time concentrating when Shayla is sitting across from me giggling like a schoolgirl with Caesar. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that they like each other. The man is handsome, not to mention his hair is absolutely gorgeous. They sit close together and are talking in hushed whispers. Shayla happens to look up and notices my gaze. She clears her throat and straightens her posture, trying to appear professional.

  I giggle to myself. Just date him already, girl.

  4:54 p.m.

  Bathroom

  “Did you talk to Shayla about what happened this weekend?” CJ asks when she comes out of her stall. I shake my head as I check my makeup in the mirror.

  “She’s been acting like nothing has happened, so I stopped worrying about it.”

  “Did you notice she’s wearing a bit more makeup than usual?”

  I pause. I didn’t really pay too much attention to her makeup. I wish CJ hadn’t told me that because now I’ll be staring at her face all day.

  “She claims nothing happened,” I say.

  CJ washes her hands and snatches a few paper towels from the dispenser. “That type of thing just makes me uneasy. I lost a cousin to domestic violence, so I’m wary of situations like that,” she says with a sigh just as Madicunt enters the bathroom.

  She stops and looks at me. “When and where are we supposed to be meeting this friend of yours?” she asks.

  Shit.

  In the excitement of telling her the idea, I completely forgot to ask Taylor about that.

  “I’ll call and ask. I should probably get your number to text you the info later,” I say.

  “Or we can just leave here together and meet your friend,” she suggests. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. She only has to tag along for a week. It would’ve been so much easier to ditch her if she didn’t have to follow me home.

  “I’ll see what time it is. She says it’s this evening. If it’s much later, it doesn’t make sense to leave here together,” I say. I don’t want to spend more time with this buffoon than I have to.

  “Whatever,” she mutters and enters a stall.

  I pull out my phone and send Taylor a text message.

  Blake: Hey, what time is the rehearsal?

  No sooner than I sent the message, my phone rings, displaying her name. “Hey,” I answer.

  “Hey, Carolina. It starts at seven, but of course you have to be early for these types of things. The limo will be here at 6 to get us,” Taylor says.

  “Sounds good. Listen, I wanted to cover this fashion show for a project I’m doing for work and I wanted to know if it’s cool if my partner comes along?”

  “Your boyfriend?”

  “No, someone else,” I say.

  “The ones I met at the party?”

  I glance toward the stall Madison occupied. “Um, no not them either. Just someone else,” I say. If Madison comes along, I’ll have to tell her to give them a fake name. The last thing I want is for Taylor to blab her big mouth and possibly tell Madison anything I’ve said about her.

  “I think that should be fine, but it shouldn’t be more than one person. I’ll just say you guys are with the press, which I mean you basically are,” she says.

  “Okay cool. We’ll meet you at the apartment then,” I say and hang up.

  “So?” Madicunt says from her stall. CJ smirks at me.

  “We’ll leave from here and meet her at my place.”

  “And why do we have to meet at your place? Why not somewhere public?”

  “Because she’s still at home and the limo is picking her up from home obviously,” I mutter.

  “Do you live near her?”

  Oh my God, if she asks one more question, I’ll punch myself in the face. “She’s my neighbor, Madison.”

  She flushes the toilet and walks out the stall, making her way to the sink to wash her hands. “I guess we should get ready to leave then. Your neighborhood isn’t dangerous, is it?”

  If by dangerous you mean will I kill you with my bare hands, then probably.

  “No, Madison,” I say. We haven’t even left work and she’s already working my nerves. This is going to be a very long week.

  5:37 p.m.

  Walking to my building

  Madison and I haven’t said much to each other during the trip to my house. As we get closer, I try to figure out a way to introduce her to Taylor without Taylor actually knowing who she is.

  “So your name is Carrie,” I finally say.

  She looks at me and scrunches her face. “Why the hell is my name Carrie?”

  “Because my friend already knows who you are.”

  “And?”

  “She hasn’t heard nice things about you because you haven’t been very nice to me,” I say. “And if you want her to allow you to come along, then you’ll go along with this.” She’s silent for a few moments before she finally nods.

  “Fair enough,” she replies.

  We approach my building and make the climb up the stairs to my floor. When I unlock my door and walk inside, Milo jumps up on the couch and barks at Madison, who only stands near the door.

  “Would you like anything to drink?” I ask, trying to be nice.

  “Um no,” she answers, looking around my living room with a grimace on her face. Whatever.

  “Well, I need to take Milo out really quick to use the bathroom before we leave. You can either come downstairs with me or stay here.”

  “I’ll just head downstairs. I need to take a smoke break anyhow,” she mumbles, walking out the door. I never imagined someone like her being a smoker. Just goes to show that you don’t really know people as well as you think you do.

  6:03 p.m.

  Outside

  Taylor comes outside and waves at me. “Hey, Blake,” she says as she comes to a stop in front of Madison and me. She looks at Madison and smiles. “Hello.”

  Madicunt returns her smile, which is so fake, and holds her hand out. “Hi, I’m Mad—”

  “Carrie,” I interrupt, giving Madison a look.

  Madicunt clears her throat. “I’m Carrie,” she says tightly.

  “Nice to meet you, Carrie,” Taylor says and gestures toward the limo. “Are you ladies ready to go? I’m sure traffic is a nightmare, so we better get going.”

  We follow behind her to the limo, the driver opening the door for us to get inside. Taylor wastes no time grabbing the bottle of champagne as soon as the driver closes the door behind us.

  “Would you like some?” she asks.

  “Sure,” Madison says.

  “How about you, Carolina?”

  “No, I’m good,” I say. Drinking with Shrek isn’t something I’d classify as a good time.

  “On second thought, I’ll pass,” Madison says.

  Taylor shrugs. “Suit yourself,” she says, pouring her a glass.

  No one says anything and my heart is pounding so hard I’m almost sure that everyone can hear it. Taylor is sipping her champagne and looking out the window and the whole time I’m praying that she doesn’t mention anything about Madison. Don’t let me down, Taylor.

  6:43 p.m.

  Some old warehouse

  Models bustle around, everyone dashing from place to place while a petite, frail woman barks orders at all of them. Madison stands around like a deer in headlights as famous faces walk past us.

  “Are you going to take pictures or drown yourself in drool?” I say.

  She blinks a few times before taking the lens o
f the camera hanging around her neck and starts snapping pictures. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, a smile forming on my lips when I see a text message from Silas.

  Sex Bomb: How’s everything going?

  Blake: Just got here. Wish you were here instead of she-who-must-not-be-named

  Sex Bomb: LOL I’m sure it’s not that bad. Try to have fun.

  “Hey! Who are you and what are you doing here?” I hear someone yell behind me. Madison and I both turn around and come face to face with the fashion designer. She’s dressed in a plain t-shirt and denim skinny jeans with black flats, her chestnut hair pulled into a low ponytail.

  “Um,” Madison starts and looks to me.

  “Press. We’re here to cover the designer of this collection,” I say slowly, lying through my teeth. The woman looks at us for a few moments and then nods.

  “Very well. Patricia told me someone was coming to photograph some things for some fashion magazine. Just do what you need to and try to stay out the way,” she says and walks away.

  Wow, that was easier than I thought. Hopefully we get what we need before the actual press she’s talking about shows up and blows our cover.

  “Are you sure we even have permission to be here? I’m not trying to get in trouble,” Madison says, looking around. Of course the nark would be concerned about getting in trouble.

  “We were invited by Taylor. Don’t be a spaz,” I say.

  “Okay, places, everyone!” someone calls over the noise.

  Models start to line up on a platform. “Maybe we should find a seat,” I say and move toward the rows of chairs. We take a seat in the front row and watch as the models fidget in line as they wait for their next direction. Taylor looks focused as she stands there. I almost feel like a proud mom as I sit here and watch her. It seems just like yesterday when she was sitting on my couch whining about how she couldn’t get a job. Now look at her. She’s walking in a professional fashion show. How great is that?