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“… Now as I’m sure most of you know,” Camille continued, “the past year has been an interesting one for Stiletto journalists. First, we had Julie Greene, whose public declaration of falling in love with Mitchell made for our bestselling issue ever …”
The crowd burst into delighted applause while Julie blushed prettily, and Mitchell’s arm slid around her waist even though a part of him looked ready to run. Riley joined in the clapping, letting out a whoop as Julie’s fingers found the lapel of Mitchell’s suit and pulled him down for a smacking kiss.
Riley had had a front-row seat to Julie and Mitchell’s epic love story, and it never failed to make her feel warm and mushy. Julie had rather famously set out to use Mitchell for a story (Riley’s idea), just as Mitchell set out to use Julie to win a bet. It could have been the makings of a trashy talk-show episode, but because they’d been unexpectedly perfect for each other, it had skipped tawdry and gone straight to sweet.
At the front of the room, Camille forged on, turning attention to her other celebrity couple. “… and more recently, we’ve enjoyed the sheer spectacle that was Jake and Grace’s love story with the whole world watching. Their very public battle of the sexes—”
“—Which I won,” Jake hollered, ignoring the elbow jab from Grace.
Camille smiled and continued. “Their very public battle turned from what should have been a routine five-issue series into a spontaneous HeSaidSheSaid blog, which, in turn, became our most successful digital program to date.”
Jake, Oxford magazine’s best-known male columnist, always up for playing to a crowd, very purposefully pinched Grace’s butt, earning a sharp squeal, which he stifled with a kiss.
The antics were clearly all for show, but the private look they exchanged was not. Their romance may have started as a good-natured competition over which sex had a better read on the other, but like Julie and Mitchell, Grace and Jake were the real deal.
Riley felt the old familiar tightening in her chest as she read Jake’s lips where they pressed against Grace’s ear. I love you.
“I never know whether to hug them or punch them,” Emma muttered quietly at Riley’s side.
“Seriously,” Riley whispered back. “It’s like a nonstop romantic comedy up in here.”
Still, she was a little surprised by Emma’s admission. When it came to men and relationships, Emma had always given off that breezy, don’t-need-’em vibe. But her tone held just the slightest trace of longing, and Riley wondered if she wasn’t the only one who was starting to feel a bit lonely in her role as sexy bachelorette.
“And it’s this success of our very own Stiletto starlets that planted the seed for the theme of our fiftieth-anniversary issue,” Camille was saying.
Riley’s attention snapped back to her boss, dread creeping up around the edges of her boredom.
For the most part, Riley had a good relationship with the editor in chief. Sure, they butted heads every other week over whether Riley’s articles were too risqué, but at the end of the day, Camille Bishop’s sense for what Stiletto readers wanted was spot-on. And more important, Camille treated her team like family. A family that threw food at the dinner table, perhaps, but beneath her immobile orange hair, affinity for Botox, and bark that would have cowed Robert E. Lee, Camille was a bit of a mother hen. And it was kind of nice.
However, that didn’t mean Riley liked the direction of her long-winded speech. She was hearing an awful lot of words that sent alarm bells off in her brain.
Personal, intimate, exposure …
“She’s not going where I think she’s going …,” Riley said to Emma out of the corner of her mouth.
“Yup,” Emma said, taking a long pull on her wine. “We should probably all invest in pink fuzzy diaries like we had when we were ten, because this shit’s about to get personal.”
“When I was ten, my diary had a lock,” Riley growled.
Camille continued undaunted, and unaware that two of her best columnists were less than enamored of the direction she was heading. “… by now you can all guess what I’m suggesting …”
Please no, please no.
“The theme of Stiletto’s semicentennial issue in December will be ‘Stiletto Gets Real: The Truth Behind the Headlines.’ ”
Oh shit.
“Catchy,” Grace said, earning a snort from Julie.
But Riley was too horror-stricken to join in even thinking about joking, especially when she heard Camille’s elaboration on the theme.
“… each of our columnists will write this issue’s story in first person. A sort of real-world account of how they live the Stiletto way in their own life.”
“ ‘The Stiletto way’?” Emma asked. “Is that a thing? I mean I know I’m new here, but …”
Riley didn’t answer. Instead she pushed her cocktail glass at a surprised Julie and headed for the bathroom, where she was quite possibly going to puke.
