lift home, where we went on to other forms of intoxicants since we had run out of alcohol and I happened to have my discrete vape pen on hand.
By the end of the night, neither one of us could list sleeping with the other on the Never Have I Ever list, because apparently hate-fucking is a thing. As it turned out, marijuana was the gateway drug to a one-night-stand with Christopher Tyler.
Just say no, kids. Just say no.
Fortunately, nobody else had found out about it. Lord knows Christopher would never openly admit he slept with someone like me, and vice versa.
But, it had only intensified our competitiveness at the office. It was like he kinda hated me for having succumbed to sleeping with me. And I knew his dirty little secret because I was his dirty little secret. He consistently wanted to show me who was boss, and I consistently wanted to show him that it wasn’t him.
Then the whole Duke interview came up. The Duke, whose stage name was the Duke of Mayhem, had been looking for an outlet to share his story for the first time in, well, ever. Apparently, he liked the way we handled things over PING, which happened to be his nemesis as well, so he wanted to interview a few of the top contributors, to find a good fit with whom he could collaborate. Since Christopher had that Mediocre White Dude thing going for him, he got the first interview. Monica Whitehall got the second. I got the third.
Now, I could have let Monica snatch victory away from Christopher’s clutches, but there are two things wrong with that. One, I like to fight—and win—my own battles. Two, Monica is kind of a bitch.
Let’s just say she was the kind of gal who was young enough and dumb enough to like Christopher and leave it at that.
Today was my day and nothing, not even a horde of ravenous zombies, was going to stand in my way.
This wasn’t to say I didn’t have a barf bag on the passenger seat next to me when I headed to our office in West Los Angeles that morning. Sure, I had to use it the minute I parked, but that was what it was for. I ditched it in the trash can on the way into the building, where I stopped to freshen up in the ladies’ room. I used a travel-sized toothbrush to brush my teeth, fighting the urge to gag as I did so. After I quickly pocketed said toothbrush, I washed my mouth out with some strong mouthwash, I reapplied my dark red lipstick and touched up the perfect cat-eye liner. Still a little waxen from my morning vomit-a-thon, I touched up my foundation to look more like a human and less like a fresh corpse. I fluffed my curls, reveling in the newly dyed dark violet color, before straightening my spine and heading for the morning meeting.
My stomach rebelled as soon as I saw Christopher’s smug face, who smirked because I dared to be a few minutes late. I instantly reached for one of the ginger chews that Fern had shoved in my purse as I had run out the door. That and some of the water that was provided for all of us around the big conference table was all I had to keep me from blowing chunks all over that morning’s presentation.
Not gonna lie, it got close a few times. I never realized how long and tedious those meetings were until I had to wait to spew until one was over.
Finally, it got to the stuff I needed to pay attention to. “As you know, Queen Maeve will be holding her Silver Jubilee in August. The Duke’s European tour is expected to cap in Aldayne, so whomever gets this interview will need to have a current passport. I’ve been told he wants the journalist he chooses to travel with him to see both sides of his world. Peaches,” my boss, Lydia Randolph, addressed me as she turned my direction. “One of his assistants, Audra, will be here promptly at nine-thirty to pick you up. You will need to be briefed what he expects while you are in his home.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
Her brow furrowed as she looked over my pale features. I knew she missed nothing. It was what made her so damned good at her job. “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” I repeated, hoping nobody could hear the little warble in my voice