Sun-kissed (The Au Pairs 3)
Page 37
"I didn't--"
"What did you say?" Sam asked, a little breathlessly. "Sorry, it's a madhouse around here. Three kids under the age of five, and the nanny's gone for the day."
Mara made a sympathetic noise. "Sydney wouldn't do the interview--I don't have anything for the piece. I'm so sorry," Mara confessed, gripping her coffee cup tightly.
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"The old diva is still holding that Them piece against me, huh?" Sam asked, a trace of amusement in her voice.
Mara was surprised to hear her boss laugh as if nothing was wrong.
"Well. . . that's okay. We'll just do a write-around."
"What's that?"
"You call people close to Sydney to give you quotes--people who knew him back then, people who know him now, people who know how his mind works and what he's like in private. We need at least two to go on the record, and everyone else can be "a close source" or an "insider." You did some research today, right? Go back to Lexis Nexis, use our account--and we'll just write the story around him without his input."
"We can do that?"
"We do it all the time," Sam assured her. "Standard practice."
"Oh."
"So, three thousand words by tomorrow morning?"
"Right," Mara promised, grateful to have been saved from a future of arranging canapes on a platter. She was so glad not to have been fired she didn't realize she still didn't know exactly where to begin. But that was okay. She'd just realized she had a friend who was very close to the story indeed.
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playing designer deep throat
FIRED.
Given the boot.
Voted off the island.
Torch extinguished.
Like a failed contender on one of those reality shows wherein the steely-eyed, pompadoured billionaire or the former supermodel or the convicted lifestyle guru or the flak-jacketed adventure guide somberly handed you your butt on a platter and ushered you to the nearest exit and confessional cam.
She stood alone in the cramped quarters of the staff bathroom in the back of the store and tried not to cry. Instead, she took off the gold chains one by one and hung them on the door hook. She unzipped the crocodile boots and unbuttoned the chiffon dress, then hung it carefully on a padded hanger. Paige had barked her orders without even pausing to wonder what Eliza would wear once she took it off. Thankfully, Eliza had been able to grab a goodie bag before they were all gone. She put on one of
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the complimentary Sydney Minx T-shirts. It was a size large, so it fell all the way down her thighs, as big as a dress. It would do.
She walked out of the bathroom barefoot, wearing only the T-shirt. In her handbag, her Treo rang. What now?
This-shit-is-bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S. . . her Treo chirped.
Mara.
'"Lo?" Eliza greeted.
She listened while her friend told her tale. Mara was having some problem with her article since Sydney wouldn't give the interview.
"So I need some names, people who will talk about him, what he's like to work with, where he gets his ideas, that sort of thing," Mara said. "And anyone who can give us any juicy insider stuff. Do you think you can help?"