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I’m most interested in one particular publication that falls under Marks’ umbrella. New York Viewpoint is a news magazine with digital and printed subscription rates totaling tens of millions.
I read my first copy of the magazine last year, and I was hooked. Before that, I had earned a degree in journalism from UCLA, edited a community newspaper, and worked for two regional digital news outlets in Anaheim.
Being offered the job at RumorMel meant a step up the ladder toward my future. That’s how I view it.
Melburn Meekes, the namesake of the website, is nearing ninety now. He started reporting celebrity gossip in a column in a national newspaper more than sixty years ago. He still checks in occasionally, but since he sold his brand to Marks, it’s under the direction of my boss, Hugo Conall.
“Give this another sprinkle of your magic touch, and I’ll post it within the hour,” Hugo says as he scans my face. “What happened to your forehead, Juliet?”
I run a finger over the bandage I put on when I was getting ready for work this morning.
I tried styling my hair to cover it. I was going for a long bangs look but couldn’t get my hair to stay in place. I finally gave up and decided if asked, I’d come up with an explanation that is short and sweet. The problem with that is I’m drawing a blank.
“Don’t tell me.” He huffs out a laugh. “You drank a few too many celebratory shots after you scored those pictures. The next thing you know, you ran straight into a wall that you didn’t remember was always there.”
Unsure of what to say, I smile.
“It happens to the best of us.” He runs a finger along his chin. “I wrote a breaking story twenty years ago that left me with a long scar right about here.”
I’ve noticed that scar. I thought it added character to his face. I had no idea it was the result of a night of drinking.
“Spruce this up.” He hands the paper I printed my article on back to me. “I want it online for the masses by the time they sit down for lunch.”
Chapter Six
Kavan
“Are you nursing a broken heart, Bane?”
I look to my right to catch sight of a man I didn’t invite here. Unfortunately, Sean Wells shows up at the most inopportune times. It’s a habit of his. I consider it a bad habit that started when we met as teenagers at The Buchanan School. It’s an elite boarding school upstate funded by the outrageous tuition that New York State’s most influential parents happily pay so their sons can carry the burden of being Buchanan alum on their shoulders forever.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I question as he sits his ass on the barstool next to me.
“You were checking out the breaking news about Corla Berletti’s engagement ring.” He taps his fingertip on the edge of my phone case. “That rock she’s wearing beats the one Graham got Trina.”
The mention of our mutual friend and his wife brings my gaze up to Sean’s face. I focus on his brown eyes. “Graham did all right.”
He nods. “He has a beautiful wife he adores. I’d say he’s doing better than all right, Kavan.”
Graham Locke fake married his assistant to appease the wishes of a man he considers a father. As they navigated through that, they fell in love.
Judging by the peace that has settled over Graham that worked out for him.
“Don’t try and change the subject.” Sean thumps his closed fist against the wooden bar luring the bartender’s gaze in our direction.
The guy offers Sean a curt nod. That tells me that he knows exactly what Sean wants. I do as well. Scotch neat and preferably the most expensive label they offer.
“What subject?” I question him as he tugs on the lapels of his suit jacket.
“The one about you reading an article on RumorMel.” A hearty laugh chases the words out of him. “I never would have pinned you for a Melster, Bane.”
“What the fuck is a Melster?”
He points a finger at my face. “I’m looking at one.”
I raise both brows in silent question.
“It’s someone addicted to that damn website.” He shakes his head. “Melsters crave details about famous people.”
Swiping a finger over my phone’s screen to close the browser, I return my attention to the almost empty glass in front of me. “Why are you here?”
“Why are you reading RumorMel?” He chuckles. “Look, Bane, I’m not dropping this because it’s too good. You’re the last person I expected to catch reading gossip.”
I haven’t explained any of my actions to another person in years. I sure as hell won’t start tonight.
“Thanks,” Sean directs that to the bartender as he slides a glass of scotch in front of him. “Top up his with the same.”
