“I’m conducting an interview.”
Joseph relaxed. “Oh right.” He opened his mouth to say he’d wait for her, but she pulled out her phone and dialled a number.
“Hi, I’m here,” she said. “Where are you? I’m in a blue four-by-four with tinted windows… yeah, that’s the one. Okay, bye.”
She hung up and gazed at the phone. “He’s coming.”
“Who?”
“Pierre Dupont.”
“And you’re planning to interview him in my car, are you?”
“I’ve got some dirt on him. And I don’t want anyone to see us together.”
Realisation stabbed Joseph’s brain as he suddenly understood what she was planning. “Well, he’s going to see us together. Don’t you think he might tell the papers about that? That’ll sure scupper your plans to blackmail him, huh?”
Her face flashed with worry. “Shit. Don’t let him see your face, Joseph. Pretend you’re my driver. My bodyguard. Please?”
Joseph glanced out the window and saw Eleanor’s ‘target’ jogging across the parking lot. He was tall and handsome, but he looked terrified as he huddled in his winter coat against the icy rain.
“This is wrong,” Joseph said. “I know I’m no angel, but I somehow suspect this ‘interview’ of yours won’t be quizzing him on his favourite movies and future aspirations, will it?”
“Welcome to the world of tabloid journalism, Joseph.”
“Oh, I was inaugurated into that world months ago, sweetheart – and let me tell you, it’s like living in the slums of humanity.”
“Well don’t be in the public eye then,” she hissed. “It’s what you signed up for. And so did he!”
Joseph glanced at Pierre who’d almost reached the car. “Ellie, you shouldn’t be doing this.”
Her voice cracked with anger. “Don’t tell me what to do, Joseph!”
He smirked. “I could listen to you shouting my name passionately like that all night.”
“And don’t sexually harass me. I’m just trying to do my job.”
“Job? This is the craziest job I ever heard of. Hurting people for entertainment. I thought that was outlawed in the Middle Ages.”
“It’s what I’ve wanted to do since I was a little girl.”
“Well maybe it’s time you grew up and changed your mind.”
“I’m not changing my mind. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
He leaned forward and grabbed her shoulders passionately. “I could carry you off and tie you to my bed, then make love to you all night until you forget this crazy notion.”
She pushed him away. “Why’s it so hard for you to see me
as anything more than a sexual object? Why can’t you take my career seriously?”
He stared at her tenderly. “I didn’t mean to undermine your womanhood or your career dreams, okay. I just… I think you’re a better journalist than this.”
Eleanor opened her mouth to reply, but the back door was yanked open and the minor celebrity soap star – Pierre Dupont – climbed in. Eleanor shot Joseph a pleading glance, so he sank down in his seat, not letting Pierre see him. Eleanor threw him a look of gratitude, then she grabbed a notepad from her purse, and climbed out to get in the back.
Joseph watched in the rear-view mirror. The guy was frantic. He’d risen to fame as swiftly as Joseph, but he was very popular with the older ladies, and was often photographed with his wife and children. He was an attractive guy and popular in the B-list world. Joseph guessed that any scandal involving him would be lapped up by tabloid readers, who were already captivated by the sensationalist plots of his soap opera.
Pierre appealed to Eleanor. “Please don’t tell my wife!”