AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I glanced out the window when the car came to a stop. Bishop double-parked in front of a donut shop. “Don’t get out of the damn car.”
I snorted. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. “Pick up a donut for me. Lemon with lemon glaze.”
Bishop muttered something while shaking his head before he headed into the shop. I took the time to send a quick text to Trudy, our PR rep, to warn her to keep an eye on social media.
Her reply came back quickly.
Trudy: Really? What did you do? It’s not even 10 a.m. yet.
Me: I didn’t do anything.
Me: It may involve cross-dressing though.
Me: Lots of photos and videos.
Trudy: Fine. I’ll check #ghostsightings and see how much damage you did.
Bishop had come back with my coffee and donut and we were on our way to Maggie’s office when I got Trudy’s next text.
Trudy: Awww. You look so cute. You could have brushed your hair, though.
I took a sip of my coffee and watched the three dots as I waited for more from her.
Trudy: My, weren’t you busy! At least 12 girls from that apartment building claimed to have fucked you last night.
Trudy: #GhostParker and #ghostsightings, and #ghostsmokeout LOL
Trudy: You’re trending, but everything looks fine. No biggie. Fans are eating it up. I’ll monitor it.
I quickly typed a reply into my phone.
Me: Thanks, Tru.
Running my fingers through my hair, I tried to tamp down my bedhead but gave up a few seconds later. I looked like a crazy person, but therapists were used to crazy, so no biggie, as Trudy put it.
I couldn’t help but add another text.
Me: And for the record, I only fucked 4 girls last night.
A few minutes later, we were pulling up to the nondescript building that housed Maggie’s office. There were no signs announcing her practice; she had plenty of high-profile clients, so she was discreet.
After thoroughly scanning the area for paparazzi, Bishop deemed it safe for me to leave. He would be waiting at the rear exit when I was finished. Maggie’s whole setup was designed to get clientele in and out without them ever being seen.
I grabbed the bag containing the donut, hopped out of the car, and waited at the door for Maggie to buzz me in.
Chapter 2
Remi
What did my audience want? Gossip. Scandal. Juicy tidbits. A peek inside celebrity lives. An occasional sprinkling of feel-good stories where celebrities made a difference in the real world. Warmth and humanity could only be doled out in small doses.
Social media had preconditioned my audience to respond to entertainment delivered in neat 30-second sound bites. How did I keep them engaged enough to read an entire article that might take 5 minutes? Humor. Wit. Sensationalism. And, it needed to be written at a fifth-grade reading level, at least according to my boss.
I was writing a feature story about another reality TV family that just wouldn’t go away. It was my third time writing about them. I’d rather poke my eye out with a rusty nail dripping with tetanus, but I had no choice.
So far, my article was more vapid than the family it was covering. I took a deep breath. Instead of getting frustrated, I needed to view this as a challenge. If I could take this story and spin it into gold, I’d prove what a talented writer I was. I needed to stop tormenting myself by recalling my degree in investigative journalism and ignore just how far I’d drifted from my dreams.
The article was technically finished. I’d hit my word count, but it contained nothing of value. It needed something more. Just like my mom used to finely chop up vegetables to hide in the meatloaf, I always tried to sneak into my pieces some tidbits of wisdom, some truths, or moral lessons that a tiny segment of my audience might pick up. This piece had nothing.
