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No kidding.
Marti resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. The only thing stopping her was Blue’s knife-sharp gaze.
“It was a bit of a whirlwind romance, and we got engaged,” she crooned, fluttering her eyelashes like she was starring in a cheesy chick flick.
Whirlwind? Ya think? Good grief. Blue went to Paris, met a man, and agreed to marry him after only four weeks. What was she thinking? Marti made better decisions back in college when she drank body shots off that weird foreign exchange student, Lorenzo.
“We’re planning a small, private beach wedding in early June, to which none of you will be invited because it’s going to be very, very expensive. And very, very exclusive.”
Very. Marti snorted, realizing her mistake only a moment later when Blue’s hot gaze cut to her.
Marti’s cheeks burned under the scrutiny, so she did what any self-respecting gal would do and dropped her eyes to the pesky cuticle on her right pointer finger that she just couldn’t seem to rip off.
Blue cleared her throat and continued, “Ben is a successful broker. As you can imagine, I’ll be quite busy with wedding planning, and then we’re traveling to Greece for a long honeymoon . . .”
Behind her, Mel made a cross with her fingers and hissed as Blue droned on about wedding receptions. Marti bit her lip, stifling a chuckle. Gosh, this news was disappointing. Suddenly, she wished more than anything Blue had chocolate marshmallow fingers or something equally appetizing. Anything to sweeten the torture of listening to her drone on about wedding plans, babies, or whatever else she was yakking about.
Don’t get her wrong. Marti didn’t completely despise her boss. She actually found her quite clever. She admired her intuition and business acumen. At twenty-two, Blue started the online pop-news source that would turn into the multi-million-dollar empire PopNewz was today. And she managed it with an all-female staff. It was incredible.
Their magazine wasn’t just a lifestyle blog or even a popular news blog. It was everything wrapped in up in one neat little bow. Year after year, Blue successfully managed to keep her finger on the pulse point of the pop-news world, while winning the devotion and the heart of New Yorkers everywhere. The website now boasted information in ten different categories, anywhere from what celebrities were up to, who they were dating, to the latest in literature, top lipstick trends, the president, and Ghandi. Blue Suede—yeah, that was her real name—was a true entrepreneur. A business woman. A brand builder.
“. . . so we might be making some minor changes around here. Everyone needs to be on their A-game. Some of you I’ve already spoken to about this,” she said, eyeing Marti.
Uh-oh, the boyfriend thing.
“But know that despite my engagement, my work is still a top priority and now is not the time for slacking.” Her gaze trailed across the room of expectant faces, making her meaning known. “Now,” she said, “I would like to meet with the editorial teams individually and discuss what everyone has going on, but first I would like a word with Marti.”
Her gaze zeroed in on Marti, and she sank back into her seat.
Shoot, she was really serious about this boyfriend thing. Marti had hoped she was only joking or that it was merely a suggestion.
Guess again.
An hour later, everyone filed out of the conference room, but Marti held back, waiting in her chair like a man on death row—palms clammy, pulse racing, throat tight. If there was ever a time she had reservations about her position as a personal column writer, it was now.
Blue shut the door behind the last person to leave the room, then turned to her with a toothless smile.
Marti didn’t like that smile. It was the kind of smile you couldn’t trust. It was a serial killer smile. People who smiled with no teeth were hiding something.
“Marti,” Blue said, clasping her hands in front of herself. “We need to continue the discussion we started over the phone on Friday.”
Conversation? It was a sparsely worded text that said ‘I think you need to get a boyfriend.’
Marti nodded. “You mean about the whole crazy boyfriend idea?”
“Precisely.” Blue clicked her way across the hard floor, each snap of the heel a nail in Marti’s coffin. “The truth is, your ratings have dropped and your numbers have reached an all-time low. I’ve given it some time to see if they’d recover, if maybe it was just a fluke, but they haven’t. Each month, they’ve only gotten worse.”
Marti’s eyes widened.
Wow.
She was speechless.
“After careful consideration,” Blue said, smoothing her blond hair with a manicured hand, “that leads me to believe one thing. People are bored with you and your single act.”
Well, why don’t you tell me what you really think?
Marti’s chest constricted. People couldn’t be bored with her. No way.
