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Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
“Sorry,” Camille muttered, hanging up her phone.
Julie mustered a wan smile and waited for the interrogation to start.
Where are your notes?
How’s the story coming?
Will it be any good?
“Kelli quit,” Camille said. “And good riddance, eh?”
Whoa. Julie sat up a little straighter. She hadn’t seen Kelli all week, but she’d figured she was just playing sick until the worst of the storm had blown over.
“Oh? Did she say why?” Stiletto had been everything to Kelli. She couldn’t imagine she’d leave it intentionally.
Camille arched an eyebrow. “Let’s just say her resignation was strongly encouraged.”
Ah. “You knew?”
“That she sold us out? Yes. Not that she showed any integrity and ’fessed up. But Allen couldn’t wait to let me know that one of my own was responsible for that trash he wrote.”
Julie looked more closely at Camille and noted the dark circles under her eyes, the chips on her fingernails, and the hair that was just a little less shiny than usual. Most telling of all, her lips were completely devoid of red lipstick, and she’d forgotten to draw on her eyebrows. As a result, she looked … human.
Apparently Julie hadn’t been the only one doing penance for Stiletto’s undercover-girlfriend gig.
“I’m sorry the story got out that way. It hasn’t exactly been flattering publicity for the magazine,” Julie murmured.
Camille waved this away. “Are you kidding? My phone’s been ringing off the hook. I wouldn’t be surprised if this issue is one of our best-selling of all time. In typical fashion, shortdicked, shortsighted Allen didn’t have the brains to understand that in our world, any publicity is invaluable. His stupid attempt at sabotage blew up in his bloated face.”
“Well, I’m glad,” Julie said, meaning it. She didn’t want Stiletto to suffer on top of everything else.
“Allen’s fool stunt did hurt you, though,” Camille said, her voice softening.
Julie quickly dropped her gaze to her notebook. She hadn’t shed a tear since Mitchell had walked away, but sympathy from the ever-crusty Camille might be more than she could stand.
The older woman let out a sigh. “You know, Julie … I’m not a soft woman.”
Naaah, Julie thought sarcastically.
“But I’ve always liked you. Favored you, perhaps. Thought of you as a daughter.”
Julie blinked in surprise. This was new. And kind of scary.
“Not a biological daughter, of course.” Camille literally shuddered. “I’d never do anything so vulgar as to subject myself to stretch marks and that horrid breast-feeding, of course.”
“Of course,” Julie agreed.
“I see myself in you,” Camille continued. “I love your spunk, your drive, your humor.”
“Thanks.” Where the hell is this going?
“But the truth is, Julie, I’ve done you a disservice over the years. I’ve let you create a very effective niche for yourself in your professional life, to the detriment of your personal life.”
Julie tried to follow. “I don’t understand.”
Camille sighed and fiddled with her computer mouse, clearly out of her element. “Well, let’s take your reputation as the first-date girl. You’ve cultivated that. I’ve cultivated that. And it’s been very effective. This city loves you, men adore you, women want to be you. But you’ve always been so … alone.”
