Party Girl

She nodded. “I work a nine-to-five job here, plus covering assignments at all hours of the night on the weekends, because that’s when the biggest parties happen. On top of that, I record and edit videos so that I can post at least five days a week, in addition to all the livestreaming I do whenever I feel like it. Basically I barely have time to eat or sleep, so... yeah. Time. When would I have time for a podcast on top of everything else?”

“Ah, I get it. If you agree to do this project, the podcast will become your main job, with bi-weekly posts in the Gossip section to make sure you stay plugged in to the community that we want you to cover. Just think about it,” he added when she still hesitated. “Sleep on it for a few days and give us a chance to write up a contract. Hopefully you’ll see that this new project is exactly what I think it is—a winner, and a perfect fit for you.”

“Right. Thanks, boss.” Dazedly Hannah found herself heading out of her editor’s office, all the while wondering if she looked as thunderstruck as she felt. Probably, since Keisha rushed up to her the moment she got near her cubicle.

“Oh my God, what happened?” Keisha took her arm and semi-guided her into her desk chair. “You look like you’re about to toss all the cookies. He didn’t fire you, did he? That jerk, if he fires you over something as amazeballs as being successful in something you did on your own time—”

“Keisha, it’s not that. Far from it.” She looked up to her friend, but before she could say another word, a teenaged girl dressed in a delivery uniform carrying a flower arrangement of tulips appeared behind her friend.

“Excuse me? Are either of you Hannah Raven?”

Hannah raised a hand. “I am.”

“These are for you. And, um, I hope you have a lot of desk space.”

“Why?” Keisha’s brows went up as the flowers were handed over. “That’s a beautiful arrangement, but it’s not that big.”

“I’m not talking about just the one I’m delivering.” The teen threw a significant glance over her shoulder. Hannah leaned over in her chair while Keisha turned in time to see several more delivery people trooping toward them, each one with a different flower arrangement. “I found her, guys! Drop ‘em off over here.”

Hannah gaped at the oncoming flower storm. “Whoa. What...?”

“Damn.” Keisha stared at the parade of flowers—lilacs, star lilies, roses, orchids—with eyes growing wider by the second. “Let me guess. This is the result of the bad ending to your date last night?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” But a fluttery sensation filled her chest as she scooted out of her chair to make room for all the delivery personnel. People from neighboring cubicles hovered around to see what the commotion was all about, while five flower arrangements in all were delivered. They covered every available inch of her desk, as well as taking up space by her desk chair. Within minutes the air was perfumed with their delicate scents, and all she could do was hope that no one in the office was allergic.

“Wow.” Another writer in the Gossip section and Hannah’s self-described rival for head Gossip writer, Jodie Adams, popped up from her side of the modular wall. Not even bothering to be subtle, Jodie folded her arms on the wall separating them and goggled at the new deliveries. “What’s all this?”

Still stunned, Hannah could only shake her head. “I have no idea.”

“Really?” Jodie snorted. “No idea, huh? None at all?”

Keisha leveled her a baffled scowl. “What exactly are you getting at, Jodie?”

“Oh, nothing... except for one thing. Did you know I once sent myself flowers to celebrate my first published article?”

“Why am I not surprised?” Keisha muttered.

“I’m just wondering if this attention-grabbing flower shower is Hannah’s not-so-subtle way of calling the office’s attention to the fact that she was lucky enough to have a livestream go viral.”

“Luck has nothing to do with Hannah’s success,” came a deeply masculine voice from behind them. Hannah and the others turned to the opening of her cubicle, and her mouth dropped open as Dalton came over and handed her a single red rose. “She’s fucking amazing without having to pull any dumbass gimmicks like sending herself flowers. Only a loser would do that. My woman is no loser.”