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“Idiot,” I say before I yank open the door, slam it behind me, and march to my desk. I spot the coffee ring on my otherwise perfectly pristine planner and grow angrier.
“Asshole.” I’m fuming as I hastily pack my bag. Does he actually believe I’d sleep with North on Tuesday and then make out with him on Friday? Who does he think I am? Him? I shove my laptop, charger, and cellphone into the bag next. How could he ask me something like that? I think as I angrily cram my notebook into the bag. By the time I pull my purse from the bottom desk drawer, I have an audience.
“Bad timing?” Mia interrupts, a steaming mug of coffee in her hand. “Where are you off to?”
I have not a single clue. There’s no good excuse for my actions save the truth and I sure as hell can’t tell her that. Or can I?
“Barrett Fox. Mia, honestly, what were you thinking with this story? Why me? Why him?”
“Come on, sweets.” She grips my arm and once again I’m being dragged off to parts unknown. My deflection worked a little too well.
I’m now sitting in her office, my butt in a chair while she leans over her desk, her hair frizzy and frightening.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and my response is naked shock. “I hope this isn’t what caused you and North to break up.”
“How do you—?”
“Is it?”
“No. Not at all.” It’s not a secret, and it’s not hard to guess she overheard me on the phone with him or mentioning it to Nanci.
“This assignment is a marketing ploy. You and Barrett are opposites in every way. It makes for a great story. His writing has this blatantly clumsy edge, and yours has this sharp, pinpoint snap. Readers are going to eat this up.”
I rub an aching spot over one eyebrow as I come to a conclusion. “You knew we wouldn’t get along.”
“Of course! It’s great fodder for advertising and for your reporting. If you two were simpatico the whole time, who the hell would read that? Conflict sells.”
“What if you were wrong?” I mumble, hoping I don’t look like I was pressed against Marge’s bookshelf and ravaged by him not sixty seconds ago.
Mia assesses me, and I begin to worry that she knows exactly what happened sixty seconds ago.
“Like you’d ever be wrong!” I cover with a nervous laugh. I don’t want her to have the wrong impression. Or, well—the right one. I stand and tug my skirt down, remembering Barrett doing the same. “Anyway. I’m going to the coffee shop to write for a few hours. Unless you need me here for some reason?”
“Go home.” Mia waves. “Take the day off.”
She’s stopped assessing me and is shuffling through a pile of folders on her desk. Crisis averted.
“Will do.”
“Date this weekend?” she asks just before I make my escape.
“Yes. With Barrett.”
“I know. That’s what I meant.”
“Right. We’re going to a beer tasting.”
“I’ll pay for your cab or Uber. Whatever way you kids travel nowadays.”
“We’re driving separately.”
“No!” she practically shouts. “You’re going to drink and do something worthy of our advertisers’ dollars. Especially now that you’re single.”
“That’s not—”
“Your next column is due Monday, Catarina. Fit in some work alongside your play.” Her sweet smile is anything but.
Day off, my ass. She’s made sure I have plenty to do.
