Just a Girl - Becky Monson Page 0,14

sly one she’s currently sporting. “The blooper reel? Of course.”

I get a little thrill when I see the light dim ever so slightly in her eyes. She’s hoping to be the first to tell me. Too bad for you, Moriarty.

“Well,” she says, placing a manicured hand on my forearm. I wonder if she uses the same file for her horns as she does for her claws. “I hope it doesn’t affect your job here.” She places the other hand on her heart, batting her eyelids.

“It didn’t last time, so I doubt it will this time,” I say, nudging her hand off my arm for fear that she might grab on and then sprout wings and drag me to her lair.

“Got another feature to get the execs to look away? I doubt you’ll be able to luck yourself out of this one like you did last time.” She places a hand on her hip.

“Maybe I do.” I don’t. But she doesn’t need to know that. I place my hand on my hip. I’m a mirror, reflecting her witchiness.

We stand there looking at each other. Both with our hands on our hips.

“Quinn,” Jerry says, approaching us. His eyes squint as he takes in the picture in front of him, Moriarty and me standing in the same position, staring at each other. It’s a newsroom standoff.

I see Jerry’s shoulders drop in my peripheral vision. This isn’t the first time he’s found us doing this.

When the standoff starts to turn farcical with the amount of time that’s passed, I release my gaze from Moriarty and turn toward Jerry. “Yes?”

“You’re . . . needed,” he says. I can see by the stressed-out look on his face that what I’m needed for is probably not a good thing, and I thank every deity in existence that he doesn’t give specifics. Moriarty does not need to have any more ammo.

I tip my head to Moriarty, a salute of sorts. I’d give her a middle finger one if it weren’t totally inappropriate under the circumstances. I give her one in my head, though.

I follow Jerry, who’s weaving through the newsroom and heading toward the management offices. My heart skips a few beats, and my stomach begins a slow, rumbling churn. I should not have had that breakfast burrito this morning.

Without words, Jerry leads me to Dwayne’s office—the executive producer of the morning and midday news.

“Enter,” a muffled, deep voice says from behind the door after Jerry knocks.

“You wanted to see me,” I say to Dwayne, pasting on an extra happy smile. Maybe I can happy my way out of this. I could break out in song, even. If only I could sing.

“I’m sure you’ve seen it,” Dwayne says, never one to beat around the bush. I don’t get the privilege of being in his office all that often, and the plain white walls sporting a variety of awards and plaques feel extra stifling today. I put a hand on my heart, willing it to slow.

“Yes, Jerry—” I gesture with my hand to where Jerry should be standing but then quickly realize he’s not here. That rat has left me here. A sitting duck. I swallow, audibly. “Jerry showed me.”

Dwayne leans back in his black, high-back, executive chair. He’s got an Idris Elba thing going on with that salt-and-pepper short-cut beard he sports and that dark, intense gaze of his. He’s definitely not ugly. I had fanciful dreams of him taking me under his wing and becoming my mentor, since having his babies was out of the question as he’s already got a wife and kids. He’s mostly serious with a side of unexpectedly funny.

He’s showing no signs of joking around right now.

He steeples his fingers in front of him, his elbows on the armrests of his chair. “I’m sure you understand how this looks for the station.”

“I doubt anyone will see it,” I say, still smiling. I’m not sure using positive thoughts will get me out of this, but I’ll try.

“It’s already had nearly a million views. As far as I know, it’s only been out since this morning.”

I drop the smile and take a deep breath. It was just over 850k only an hour ago. That’s a lot of views, and quickly. This doesn’t bode well. The original video has been out for nearly eight months and has only eighteen million views. It has slowed down substantially in the past month. Probably because my own friends have quit watching. They think I don’t know that they single-handedly