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Kelli’s lips pressed together in disdain, and Julie resisted the urge to gloat. Kelli wouldn’t breathe a peep about the champagne. Not that Camille would care, anyway. All she wanted from her employees was that they meet deadlines and keep their columns sassy and snappy, all while fitting the stylish Stiletto mold. Camille didn’t care if they needed a little wine to get there.
“Was there something else?” Julie asked. “Other than your concern over my liver and company funds?”
“Actually, yes,” Kelli said, flicking her long blond ponytail over one bony shoulder. “I’ve been asked to clean out the fridge—”
“You know that you’d be a lot less on edge if you actually ate the food, right?”
“—and as I was cleaning I noticed this funny-looking sandwich. It has your name on it.”
Julie glanced down at the plastic-wrapped sandwich in Kelli’s hand. “Yup, mine from last week. I ate half and forgot about it.”
Kelli shook her head in condescension. “It’s wasteful, Julie. And I think I speak for the entire office when I say we’re tired of you abusing your power.”
“My power? What is it that I’m out to destroy with a half-eaten turkey sandwich? Thanksgiving?”
Kelli sighed. “I’m not trying to be difficult.”
My ass, you’re not.
“I’m just saying we all have to share a kitchen space, and it would be nice if even the senior columnists could clean up after themselves,” Kelli said.
“Okay,” Julie said, shoving the champagne bottle under her arm and snatching the sandwich from Kelli. She took a half step to the side and dropped it in the garbage. “We good? Is there a coffee mug I didn’t position just right, or a pen I left somewhere?” Maybe up your ass?
Kelli snapped her fingers. “You know, I just thought of something else. I was wondering if maybe you could keep me updated on your notes for August’s article.”
Julie snorted. “And why would I do that?” And why bother asking? We both know you just steal my notes when it suits you.
Kelli’s eyes went wide. “Camille didn’t tell you?”
Julie stilled. “Tell me what?”
“Your assignment for August? The relationship story? Camille’s worried you might not be up for it.”
“And this is your business because …?”
Kelli gave a sweet smile. “I’m your alternate. If your story doesn’t cut it, Camille will print mine instead.”
Oh, hell no.
With a violent twist of her hands, Julie uncorked the
champagne and took a long swig as she marched out of the kitchen, her head reeling from Kelli’s bomb.
There was only one thing worse than having to write this story.
And that was having Kelli-with-an-i write it for her.
Movie night, here I come.
Chapter Two
“She assigned me an alternate, Grace. An alternate.”
Grace Brighton snagged two champagne flutes off a passing tray and handed one to Julie. “You say that like it’s a dirty word. What’s the big deal? She assigned me an alternate back in February. It’s just a precaution.”
“She assigned you an alternate because you were having Lasik surgery one week before deadline, and she told everyone that your eyes were going to fall out. I am perfectly healthy.”
“You do know that champagne isn’t meant to be taken as a shot, right?” Grace asked, watching Julie chug the sparkling wine.
