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Complicated Love – Chapter Reveal

 

Complicated Love  tour graphic

 

 

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Keeping two lovers in sync is hard enough. Three is incredibly complicated.

Jaxson, Chase, and Emma may have officially bit off more than they can chew. Already running two wildly successful clubs in Washington D.C., they decide to expand, opening Runway West and Black Light West in luxurious Beverly Hills, California. But there is no relaxing for the infamous threesome. With construction deadlines looming, staffing decisions to make, and multiple outsiders hitting on her men, Emma feels pressured into keeping a dangerous secret from them–breaking the number one rule of their unique relationship.

Can Jaxson, Chase, and Emma’s complicated love survive all that life is throwing at them, or will the pull of outside influences cause it to fall apart forever?

 

 

 

Author’s Note: Complicated Love takes place in the Black Light world and while the characters have appeared in previous books, it can be read as a standalone and complete story.

 

 

Complicated Love cover

 

 

Chase

“I’m so excited to welcome our next guest to the morning show. I’ve known Chase since we grew up next door to each other in Huntington Beach. Welcome, Chase Cartwright!”
Chase took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the backstage curtain and onto the closed set stage of the Los Angeles morning show. He’d plastered his show-smile on before he’d left the green room. He was used to living in front of the camera.
He was, unfortunately, also used to women throwing themselves at him, although he had to admit this time felt different. Brandi Wittman, the longtime anchor of the regional show, had only told part of the truth. Yes, they’d grown up as neighbors, but she’d left off the detail that she’d been ten years older than him and had been his babysitter on many occasions before she left for college.
The attractive thirty-something anchor hugged him just a little too hard… a little too long… too intimate. When he finally extricated himself, he felt the full burn of her seductive glare. They were on live television, and he had a premonition, if she wasn’t careful, Brandi was about to make a fool out of herself.
After pulling himself out of her embrace, Chase moved to sink into the leather chair reserved for the day’s special guest. While the star-struck host seemed distracted, he nervously reached for the steaming cup of coffee waiting next to him, hoping to fill the growing awkward silence by sipping for the fans watching.
Finally remembering she had a job to do, Brandi shook her head as if to clear the cobwebs and jumped into their interview. This was his third live appearance on TV during the weeklong PR push to advertise the upcoming grand opening of their newest dance club, Runway West. He was already exhausted and the club wasn’t even open yet.
“So, I think I speak for all Southern Californians when I say welcome home. I’ve heard you finally moved back to the Sunshine State after living on the wrong coast for a few years.” He tried not to cringe at her misguided attempt to be funny. She’d just pissed off anyone watching who loved the East Coast.
Chase smiled politely, keeping his voice steady. He didn’t want his tone to betray his growing displeasure with the recent change in his life. “Yes, at least part-time. We still have homes in New York City and D.C., but we decided it would be fun to spend a chunk of the year on the other coast.”
“And so, of course, you just had to purchase one of the most opulent properties in Beverly Hills and turn it into your new West Coast hub, right?”
“Well, you know what they say,” he chuckled. “Go big or go home.”
Brandi’s flirtatious reaction was over the top for the tame morning show. “Go big, indeed. That’s a perfect description of how I remember you. Big.”
His burst of laughter was out before he could contain it. He tried to smooth over Brandi’s misplaced innuendo.
“The gated estate we purchased is five full acres of prime real estate just a few blocks off the famed Rodeo Drive and not far from the Beverly Hills Country Club. We’re almost done with the extensive renovations to turn the mansion into the premier entertainment destination in Southern California.”
“That must have cost you a fortune. It’s a good thing your modeling career was so successful.”
He noticed the slight blush on her cheeks as she struggled to take his lead at refocusing the interview on the club. “Yes, Jaxson and I did quite well on the runway, and in print, and while we opened Runway East completely on our own, we did decide to collaborate with several investors in the lucrative Runway West project. We, of course, retain the majority ownership in the investment.” He left off how much it cost just to soundproof and secure the basement level where the most private parties would take place. They wouldn’t be mentioning that club in the public relations jaunt.
“So, are the rumors true?” She was back to her flirtatious banter.
“And which rumors would that be?” He grinned, casually sipping his coffee before adding. “There always seems to be an abundance of drama that swirls around us at any given moment.”
No truer words had ever been spoken. Of course, considering the public way they’d outed their unique relationship, he knew they had opened the door to the scrutiny.
“Well, feel free to set the record straight on any or all of the outrageous things printed about you. I’d love to get the scoop.” She leaned across the short distance between their chairs to pat him a bit too high on his thigh.
“I bet you would,” he snarked, patting her hand once before picking it up and clearly putting it back in her own lap. It was getting harder to contain the laughter he was suppressing at her expense. She was making a fucking fool of herself.
Brandi recovered with her follow-up question. “I’m specifically referring to the rumor you’re building the next Playboy mansion. That you’re planning on hosting sex parties and skinny-dipping pool parties.” Before he could respond she tacked on, “If so, I hope my invitation is in the mail.”
Chase smiled politely, careful to look towards the live camera feed. “Well, I’m sure Jaxson, Emma, and I will be christening the pool, and every other room in the house, if you get my drift. But I’m afraid the rumors are false about hosting sex parties.”
She appeared annoyed at his continued insistence on using words like ‘we’ and ‘us’ and appeared outright hostile at the mention of his lovers’ names.
He used her continued silence to add on. “What we do plan on hosting are parties for the rich and famous that will be free from prying eyes. We’ve made the decision to make the entire estate electronic free. Meaning all guests will be required to check their phones, cameras, smart watches, Fitbits… you name it. All electronics will be checked immediately upon entering the mansion. The only electronics will be our own private and high-tech security cameras meant to keep everyone safe.”
Brandi finally started acting like the journalist she was supposed to be. “Why in the world would you create such a restrictive rule? Aren’t you worried no one will come? After all, I don’t know of many people who let their cell phone out of their sight for more than two minutes these days.” As if to prove her point, she reached behind her back and pulled her own phone out to show the camera.
He smiled indulgently. “Maybe in ninety-nine percent of the country this rule would be business-suicide, but we’re banking on a large portion of our targeted patrons appreciating the privacy we’ll be able to offer.”
Her sly smile was back. “And exactly what will happen behind closed doors that needs to stay so private?”
Chase chose his words with precision, careful not to cross the line between advertising their public Runway West venture and disclosing details of their extremely private Black Light West project.
“Well, we learned in D.C. there’s a portion of the population that is always in the spotlight. Maybe it’s because of their job or who they married, their athletic prowess or their sexual exploits. Hell, whatever the reason, every time they leave the house they are on display. Jaxson, Emma, and I know something about having to hide from the paparazzi just to go out for a pizza or take in a movie. It gets exhausting. Runway West is meant to be a safe haven where the rich and famous can let down their hair and just be themselves without fear of pictures showing up on social media within minutes.”
“But surely there aren’t enough people in that category to make your club a success?”
“That’s the best part. There are even more people looking to have a good time, who’d also love to rub elbows with their favorite actor, model, rock star, athlete––you fill in the celebrity. Runway West will be the place for fans to meet their favorite celebrities in an intimate setting. There’s just one hitch. We’ll be making sure what happens behind closed doors will stay there. There will be no paparazzi allowed.”
“Ooooh, this sounds like so much fun. I hope I’ll get an invitation to visit the club.”
“No invitation needed. Runway West will be hosting concerts, runway fashion events, and will be open three nights a week to the public. All you need to do is invest in the entrance fee or a ticket to one of the hosted events, sign a standard NDA, and you’ll be in.” Chase didn’t miss her pout when he ignored her invitation to treat her like a VIP with a personal invitation.
“It all sounds so secretive. What will happen to someone who gets caught sneaking in their phone or talking about what happens there?”
Anyone who knew Chase at all knew he didn’t have a mean bone in his body, but he used his acting skills to plaster on his most menacing smile. “Any violators will be publicly humiliated before they face a lifetime ban on returning.”
He didn’t miss Brandi’s pupils dilating as she fidgeted in her chair at the thought of being publicly humiliated. Her voice cracked with her follow-up question. “Wow, that sounds deviously naughty. Now I know how the rumors started about the similarities between Runway and the Playboy mansion. I suspect there was a little bit of public humiliation going on there on a regular basis.”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, but I heard rumors of my own that you happened to be a guest of Mr. Hefner’s more than once before he passed away.” Chase had done his homework and it paid off. Her bright red blush told him he’d struck gold. If he played his cards right, this interview would be trending on YouTube within the hour. “I see by your blush you understand the value of privacy. Maybe you should plan on visiting after all,” he teased.
She finally recovered enough to glance down at the cue card in her lap before blurting, “You chose to have Cash Carter and the Crushing Stones play for the grand opening at your club in D.C. last year. Everyone is anxious to hear who will be headlining the opening of Runway West.”
“You’ll be excited to know you are going to get the scoop on this. We just got the deal finalized yesterday. I’m thrilled to announce we have an all-star lineup for the grand opening, starting with an exclusive poolside fashion show luncheon where none other than Randy DePaul will be showcasing his newest line of sportswear. Jaxson and I have invited some of the top fashion models in the world to be with us that day, and, of course, some of the biggest names in fashion will be on hand to help us open the outdoor venue.
“We’ll then be hosting an evening dinner gala, by invitation only, in the grand ballroom. Cash and the boys have promised to attend, but the entertainment during and after dinner will be by Grammy award- winning artist, Diva Frost. And finally, I’m thrilled to announce our guests will be dancing into the wee hours to the live music of Divinci.”
“You’re kidding me! Both Diva and Divinci are filling huge stadiums. Why would they be playing in such an intimate venue?”
Chase grinned slyly. “They were just excited to be part of the biggest party in town.” He carefully hid the real reason they’d signed on was they couldn’t pass up the lifetime membership to Black Light. All three celebrities were kinksters who had played at Black Light D.C. in the past.
“Well, now I really do hope to be receiving that invitation. It sounds like an amazing night. When is the big date?”
“Two weeks from tomorrow. We’ll have the opening for the general public the next night, and we’ve arranged for yet another headliner to take the stage that night. It promises to be a huge night.”
He just hoped he would make it that long. He was exhausted, and knew that Jaxson and Emma felt the same. Truthfully, he couldn’t wait for the whole damn opening to be behind them so things could get back to normal. Or at least as normal as things got for the infamous trio.
Brandi turned to speak to the camera. “You heard it here first, folks. Mark your calendars and let the fun begin! I suspect little work will be getting done between now and then with so many people distracted trying to figure out how to get their own personal invitation.”
The anchor turned towards Chase, that seductive haze back in her eyes as she added “I’m glad we have a personal history, Chase. I may have to leverage our relationship to be sure I’m on that intimate invite list.”
Just as Brandi’s hand slid across his knee, Chase glanced past her towards backstage. Emma had left the green room and was watching from just a few feet away. He saw the flash of hurt as his lover watched another woman touching her man.
He knew what he needed to do. He loved Emma, and Brandi had just served up a lie too big to let pass. He swung and hit a homer.
“I’m sure Jaxson and Emma won’t mind me skimming an invitation for my old babysitter. I think I was about ten when you left for college, right? I do have awesome memories of us playing PlayStation for hours when you came over.” He delivered the blow with the utmost sheen of charm and a smile, picking her hand up off his thigh and turning the grip into a limp handshake as he added, “Thanks again for inviting me onto the show. I’ve had a great time.”
Several seconds of awkward silence followed until he heard the producer yell, “We’re clear,” from the sidelines. He glanced up to see the on-air light was now off before reaching for the tiny microphone clipped to the neckline of his designer shirt.
He stood, holding the mic out to Brandi who remained stunned, slumped back against her chair. When she didn’t take it, he threw it into her lap.
“A little piece of advice. Don’t try to seduce taken men on camera. You only ask to be humiliated. At least now you know what the public humiliation punishment would feel like if you try to sneak electronics into Runway West. Good to see you again, Brandi.”
He wasn’t normally so ruthless, but nothing felt normal these days. Jaxson was grouchy. Emma was weepy. That meant he was stressed on top of everything else going on.
He stopped to shake hands with a few people as they rushed him off the set so they would be ready when they came back from commercial break. The closer he got to Emma, the brighter her eyes shone. It was something new he was starting to get used to. Tears were almost always in her eyes, and he hated it.
He smiled his best smile, the one he knew she loved. “Hey baby. How’d I do?”
“You did fine. Can’t say I was impressed with Brandi.”
“Yeah, well, I got the last laugh.”
“Does it make me a bad person that I’m relieved she was just your babysitter?”
“Bad, no. Naughty, yes. And I think you need a bit of time spent over my knee as your punishment.”
“As long as it’s just the three of us, I’ll even take the cane,” she whispered against his ear as he held her close.
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. Emma hated the cane, yet he saw it in her eyes—she was serious.
“When are you going to tell me what’s going on inside this lovely head of yours?” He tapped her temple gently. Not for the first time, he felt like he was losing her, and it scared the shit out of him.
“I’ll just be glad when we get the new clubs open and all of the employees hired. We’re too busy. We aren’t spending enough quality time together.”
She was right about that.
“Let’s get going. If we hurry, we can get back to the house before Jaxson leaves for the day.”
He held her hand, dragging her behind him as they rushed to the exit.

 

 

 

USA Today bestselling author Livia Grant lives in Chicago with her husband and furry rescue dog named Max. She is fortunate to have been able to travel extensively and as much as she loves to visit places around the globe, the Midwest and its changing seasons will always be home. Livia’s readers appreciate her riveting stories filled with deep, character driven plots, often spiced with elements of BDSM.

 

 

 

 

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Musings of a Gossip Queen – Chapter Reveal

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Today we have the chapter reveal for MUSINGS OF A GOSSIP QUEEN by Victoria Bright! Check it out and be sure to pre-order your copy today!
Musings of a Gossip Queen COVER
Title: Musings of a Gossip Queen
Author: Victoria Bright
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Release Date: January 4th
About Musings of a Gossip Queen:

Thoughts of the day:

1. Silas is a sex bomb

2. Madison is determined to ruin my life

3. Nothing online is EVER private, no matter how insane your “strong” password is.

#FML

Gossip queen Blake Spencer thought she received the opportunity of a lifetime when she was offered a writing position as a gossip columnist at Hot Topic magazine. By day, she’s a model columnist that quickly earns the respect of her team and boss but by night, she writes all the secrets of those around her in a password-protected blog.

When the office mean girl has Blake’s not-so-private blog hacked and uploaded to the magazine’s home page, the secrets are out and Blake’s “awesome life” starts to crumble around her. With her friendships, budding relationship, and job on the line, Blake will have to decide whether being a gossip queen is worth losing everything she’s worked to rebuild.

Musings of a Gossip Queen PRE-ORDER BANNER
Musings of a Gossip Queen TEASER

Exclusive Chapter Reveal:

Monday, January 12th

4:37 a.m.

In bed

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

I huff and take a pillow and hold it over my head. My neighbor, Taylor’s, headboard bangs against my wall, so hard that I’m sure she and her slutty fuck buddy, Brendan, will end up in my bedroom after a while. Who the hell wakes up at four in the morning and thinks, “Hey, how about we bang and see if we can put a hole in the wall this time?” It wouldn’t even be such a bad thing if Taylor’s moan didn’t sound like someone was shoving their dick in a dog’s squeaky toy. It’s a miracle that Brendan can stay hard long enough when his girlfriend sounds like something straight out of Animal Planet. My Shih Tzu, Milo, jumps up on my bed and begins yapping at the wall. Fucking great.

“Down, Milo,” I mumble, blindly reaching out to pet him. He whimpers for a few moments before yapping some more. “Shh…shh, it’s okay, boy. Hush, boy.”

The poor dog probably thinks his favorite toy was stolen. He jumps off the bed and runs out of the room. I press the pillow harder over my head, hoping to muffle the sounds coming from next door. Milo returns back to the bedroom, the bell on his collar jingling as he pads across the floor and jumps on the bed. Just as I close my eyes again, Milo barks and starts chewing on his squeaky toy.

How is this my life right now?!

5:01 a.m.

Still in bed

Annoyed AF now

They’re STILL going at it. What the actual FUCK?!

Of course Milo is keeping up with his squeak toy.

5:33 a.m.

Still in bed

Fed up

There’s less than thirty minutes left until I have to get ready to be at the office, but here I am wasting it listening to these humping hyenas through my paper-thin walls. I hate this piece of shit apartment and my dickhead neighbors. Bastards.

5:41 a.m.

Obviously still in bed

Ready to slap a bitch

I sit up in bed and pound the wall with my fist. The noise stops momentarily as Taylor laughs. Yeah, he-he hell, I think, settling back under my blankets and closing my eyes. As soon as I get comfortable, the pound fest starts once again. “SERIOUSLY?” I shriek, sitting back up. I get on my knees and face the wall, pounding on it with both fists. “PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP, YOU CUNTS! SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“Fuck you!” Brendan yells, pounding the wall with his fist. Taylor laughs again, which does nothing but piss me off.

“Fuck YOU and your nonexistent dick, Brendan! How about I call the cops?” I counter.

There’s a loud squeak as if someone’s hopping off the bed. “Who the fuck is Brendan, Taylor?” he questions.

Whoops. Wrong guy.

I giggle to myself. It isn’t my job to keep up with who she’s taking to bed. Though she’s a sweet girl, her apartment door is a revolving one. It wouldn’t surprise me if it were to be later revealed that her apartment is in fact some incognito brothel or something else sinister or prostitution-like.

I settle back into bed and close my eyes, a slight grin settling on my face as their moans of passion turn into bickering. Hey, anything to stop the pounding on my wall and the mewling projecting from her strained vocal cords.

It’s as if city people transformed at night. During the day, Taylor’s great. Her bubbly personality, fiery red hair, and freckles drew me in when I first moved into the building. It’s tough enough trying to adjust to moving to NYC after leaving everything and everyone I know behind in North Carolina to obtain my dream job at Hot Topic magazine, but she welcomed me with open arms and even showed me around. But as soon as her “boyfriend” (and I use this term loosely, because in the two weeks I’ve been here, she’s already introducing a new one) comes over and waves a penis in her face, she morphs into Wolverine or something, howling at the moon during sex.

Milo continues chewing on his toy, feeling as if he’d won the squeak war by out-squeaking the Squeak Queen. After I’ve had enough of his noise, I lift the pillow from over my head, feel around the bed for the toy, and throw it out the door.

5:54 a.m.

In bed

Ha, Wolverine.

If she sounds like that, I wonder what her “O” face looks like. On second thought, I probably don’t. I don’t think I’d ever be able to look at her the same.

6:00 a.m.

Alarm

DAMN IT TO HELL! I LITERALLY JUST DRIFTED OFF TO SLEEP! FUCK MY ENTIRE LIFE, AFTER LIFE, AND REINCARNATION (well, if it exists) WITH A CACTUS!

To make sure I’d get up in the morning, I purposely had my alarm clock on the other side of my bedroom. Yeah, nice going, Blake. I stare up at the ceiling as the radio blasted at high volume, contemplating whether or not I really need this job. I mean it’s only my first day; no one would care if I didn’t show up, right?

“PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP! TURN THAT RACKET OFF!” the guy in Taylor’s apartment yells, pounding on the wall. A smirk pulled at my lips. Looks like that makes us even, Not-Brendan. I ponder whether or not I can survive off of soup kitchen meals and huddling around a New York City fire with a cool group of hobos in an alley. My mind reels at all the possibilities of how I can decorate my soon-to-be new cardboard box home. Thanks to sites like Pinterest, I’ll have the coolest cardboard box on the block.

Who the hell am I kidding? I can’t survive a day being homeless. I couldn’t even survive a night of camping in Girl Scouts when I was younger. Looks like I need this job after all. Milo confirms my thought when he jumps onto my pillow and licks my face.

“Okay, okay, I’m up,” I mumble, picking him up and moving him aside as I sit up. If I had a decent night’s rest, I would be excited about my first day at Hot Topic tabloid magazine. It isn’t every day when you land your dream job. To be able to gossip and get paid for it? Perfect! All those years of gossip blogging has finally paid off! But how in the hell am I going to be able to scoop up any dirt on anyone when the only thing I want to do is bury my head in it and sleep?

My senses immediately jump into high gear the moment my bare feet touch the icy, wooden floor. Milo pounces off the bed and run in circles in front of me, his bell jingling as he moves about. I feel around the cold floor for my slippers and put them on before pulling myself off the bed, feeling my way across the room to the alarm clock. I can hear Milo moving around but can no longer see him in the dark.

“Milo? Where are—FUCK! GOD DAMN IT!”

I hop around on one foot as I cradle my throbbing toe. Stupid bedpost!

Milo whimpers nearby, the jingling disappearing down the hallway as he leaves the bedroom. I stumble around my room, using my hands as a guide as I cautiously cross over to the alarm clock and slap the snooze button on top of it. What a way to start a morning.

6:05 a.m.

Living room

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” I say to a yipping Milo, bouncing around on one foot while trying to shove my other foot into my Ugg boot. He runs around in circles in front of the door and continues to bark and growl.

“You gotta go potty, boy?” I coo, slipping on my coat and grabbing his leash. “Who’s a good boy? Milo’s a good boy! Yes, you —OW!”

I jerk back when he snaps at my hand and growls. Glaring at him, I snap the leash on his collar and open the door. Of all the dogs I could’ve adopted, the one I happen to choose turns into a dickhead when he has a full bladder. Such an ungrateful pup.

6:09 a.m.

Outside

Milo prances down the stairs as we make our way out of the apartment building. When we reach the second floor, I pause momentarily when the door to apartment 2C opens and a man that isn’t Mrs. Keller’s husband walks out. He’s fairly young looking, appearing as if he belongs in an Abercrombie or Ralph Lauren ad. He definitely doesn’t look like anyone who would creep around with a married woman who looks a bit like a surprised goldfish with too much botox and a botched nose job. Ew to the no.

I start to move along. Eh, it’s probably nothing. Or at least I thought so until the guy turns back around and nearly shoves his tongue down her throat. She leans against the door frame with a dreamy expression on her pale face as she watches him leave. The moment her eyes fall on mine, she gasps and quickly steps inside and all but slams the door. Geez, does everyone in the building like to sleep around?

The guy leaves just in time though. As soon as my foot hits the first step and puts me on the first floor, Mr. Keller walks into the building, brushing arms against the man that’s probably just banged his wife from here to Mars. He looks up from his phone and utters an apology and continues walking, giving me a small smile and nod as he passes. Luckily the guy left when he did; otherwise I would’ve been late for work watching this Jerry Springer episode air. I can see the title of it now: I’m a Cradle-Robbing Cougar.

6:29 a.m.

Still outside because Milo is being a cunt

“Damn it, Milo, can you just pee already?” I grit, shivering against the sharp winter wind that whips around me. He keeps stopping and sniffing the same area about forty times and barking at the passing people going to their cars. Milo continues to bark long after the people disappear, so much so that someone from our building sticks their head out of the window and yells, “Quit that barking, you little rat!”

I look up to see who it is, but only see the window closing instead. Milo trots back over to the same spot by the tree that he’s sniffed twenty times already and does his business.

Fucking finally.

6:34 a.m.

Outside of my apartment door

Taylor’s apartment door opens just as I pull my keys out of my jacket pocket. Dressed in nothing but a long t-shirt, she kisses the blond-haired beau and smiles. “Thanks for last night,” she purrs.

Yeah, and thanks for waking me up before I had to be awake, I think. Milo barks and growls at him, averting their attention to me.

“Oh, good morning, Carolina,” Taylor says with a small wave. “Sorry about all the noise.”

Her fiery red hair is thrown in a messy bun, a few tendrils framing her perfect oval face. Her pink lips pucker as she blows a cloud of smoke in my direction and smiles, showing two rows of perfect white teeth.

Fucking models, I tell you.

“Yeah, sure,” I mumble, averting my eyes away from her when I notice her nipples pushing through the cotton material of her shirt. My fingers fumble with my keys until I locate the right one. “And for the millionth time, my name is Blake.”

“Well, Blake, maybe you should get laid yourself so you won’t be so worried about what we’re doing. My lady is a screamer,” the guy says with a cocky grin, grabbing Taylor by the hips as she giggles.

“Oh Cliff, don’t make me blush,” she says, kissing him once more.

Gag.

More like his lady swallowed a chew toy if he wants to be technical. Sure, she has the body and face of a porn star or Playboy Playmate, but that moan of hers won’t get her very far. I wonder if they have any kind of surgeries to fix that kind of thing…

I bring my attention back to Taylor, refusing to acknowledge the meathead standing next to her. “Or maybe you can be more courteous and remember that other people have actual jobs to go to—”

“I have a job, thank you very much,” Taylor says with a frown.

“I mean a steady one,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her.

“If it weren’t steady, I wouldn’t be able to afford to live here, now would I?” she counters.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. There’s been a few times in my short weeks of being here where she’s sat on my couch crying because another girl was picked at a casting call. Her whining usually consists of, “What am I going to do,” or “How am I going to pay rent this month,” and my personal favorite, “Maybe I’m not meant to be a model.” Well, I’ll have to agree considering she’s yet to book a serious gig that doesn’t involve her taking her clothes off.

“Riiight…I’m going to go now. See you around,” I say, unlocking my door and quickly closing it behind me once I’m inside.

“Your neighbor is a certified bitch,” I hear the guy say as I remove the leash from Milo’s collar. Taylor only laughs in response before the hall goes quiet after another set of disgustingly cute goodbyes. Bleh.

6:52 a.m.

Bathroom

Do I really need this job? Like, on a scale of one to ten, how fucked will I be if I don’t go to work and just go back to bed?

6:54 a.m.

Still in the bathroom

You need this job, Blake. This is your dream job. Get it together!

6:55 a.m.

STILL in the bathroom because I can’t get it together

Maybe I could just—”MILO! STOP HUMPING MY BUNNY SLIPPERS, YOU FURRY LITTLE PERVERT!

7:47 a.m.

Bedroom

I look at my reflection one more time in the mirror and sigh. The girl looking back at me doesn’t reveal any of the mixed emotions I feel. She looks confident and assertive, ready to take on the world. Her beige turtleneck sweater dress accentuates all of her curves and her black leggings and thigh-high boots completes her look. Nerves run rampant within me as I pass a brush through my brown mane once again, wishing I’d curled it instead of frying it with the hair straightener. Pretty sure if I don’t stop brushing my hair, I’ll probably be bald before I even get to the train station.

7:56 a.m.

Front door

“Okay, Milo, be a good boy while mommy is at work, okay?” I say to him as he jumps on the couch. He simply looks at me, his tail wagging and his tongue flopping around his face. I won’t be surprised if a herd of dogs pass me as I leave the building to attend some kind of weird gangbang Milo set up on BangPuppies.com. With the way my dog behaves sometimes, I’m almost certain he lives a secret life I don’t know about.

I lock up my apartment, twisting the doorknob just to make sure. Taylor exits her apartment just as I turn around. Shit.

“Oh, hey again, Carolina,” she says, locking her door and turning to face me. Her t-shirt from before has been replaced with a bright blue windbreaker and black, skintight running pants that are made up of mesh material from the middle of her thigh down to her ankles. She may as well have worn shorts.

“Hi, Taylor,” I say, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. Not knowing what else to say to her other than to state the obvious, I continue. “Going for a run or something?”

“I may as well since I’m up so early. With my job, I have to look good, you know,” she says with a smirk before bounding down the stairs.

“With my job, I have to look good, you know,” I mimic under my breath as I follow behind her.

We both reach the second floor at the same time, running into Weird Marty and his elderly mother who always smells like cheap perfume and mothballs.

“Looking for a workout, baby? You know where to find me,” he says, dabbing at his forehead with a dirty handkerchief. I can’t see how he can be sweating profusely as chilly as it is in the building. His “white” tank top is dingy and spotted with stains of different shades and sizes, the collar of it soaked in sweat. Gross.

“You’re not much of a workout, Marty. I think I’ll stick to running,” Taylor replies with a flip of her ponytail.

My eyes widen as I gawk at her. “You….him…no!”

“No is right,” she says and laughs. “Only way that guy would end up with me is if my body was found chopped up in his freezer or something. That guy screams John Wayne Gacy.”

I snicker. She’s right about that. He definitely looks the part with his balding head, the lopsided grin that’s always plastered on his face, and his black beady eyes that always follow you. The only thing probably saving a lot of women in the building is the fact that he lives on the second floor and can hardly carry his own body weight up the flights of stairs, let alone a body to dismember.

We step out of the building and into the windy air. Taylor begins to stretch. “Are you nervous?”

I turn to look at her. “About what?”

“I remember you saying you were starting a new job at that gossip mill or something. You’ve been chewing your lip the whole way down here.”

“I’m more anxious than I am nervous, I guess,” I say with a light sigh. “Still can’t believe I work at a magazine.”

“A shitty one at that.” When I glare at her, she holds her hands up defensively. “Hey, they have a reputation of putting some very hurtful things out about people, sometimes without even knowing the facts.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be like that,” I snap. Well, maybe. Perhaps.

“I sure hope not,” she says, slipping her iPhone into a pouch strapped to her upper arm and untangling her ear buds. “I’ve seen a lot of friendships and relationships damaged due to gossip and tabloids. Don’t get sucked into the madness.” With a parting wave, she turns and runs in the opposite direction of me until she fades into a group of commuters. Realizing the time, I skip down the stairs and rush down the sidewalk. I better pray I make it there in time or else I’ll need to start thinking about how I’m going to decorate my cardboard box for when I’m homeless.

8:20 a.m.

Train

The train is crowded as it usually is, but I lucked out and am able to find a seat near the back. I pull out my iPad Pro, flip out my keyboard, and open my password-protected Tumblr blog.

Blake Unfiltered blog post #782

A few thing important things before 9 this morning.

1) Taylor would make a horrid porn star. Instead of modeling, she should try out for a Planet Earth animal voiceover or something. And her new guy looks like an Ashton Kutcher reject. Can you say desperate? Can’t believe he had the nerve to tell me I needed to get laid so I’d stop worrying about the noise. I wouldn’t have to worry about the late night wolf calling if my own dog didn’t take it as a dog toy challenge at nearly five in the morning. Just thinking of the sleep I missed and how tired I am pisses me off.

2) I should really hide my bunny slippers from Milo. Wouldn’t be surprised to come home one day to see a bunch of baby bunny slippers moving around. Okay…that was just dumb. That couldn’t even physically happen.

3) The lady in 2C is going to get caught one of these days and it’ll be glorious. How in the hell do women cheat on their husbands or boyfriends and then end up kissing them on the mouth after all of that? Just the thought of swapping spit and God knows what other kind of bodily fluid makes me want to vomit my entire existence.

4) Marty really does have a John Wayne Gacy vibe about him. Totally creepy and predator-like. He actually reminds me of that weird guy that was in the second Human Centipede movie. Oh my fucking goodness. What if he’s creating a human centipede in his apartment?! Nah, his mom would probably have a fit, but that’s if his victims don’t die of suffocation from the extreme mothball stench that permeates their apartment and entire hallway of the second floor.

Today I start at Hot Topic magazine. Still can’t believe I’m working at a magazine! The opportunity to meet celebrities, do what I love (which is writing, of course), and getting paid to gossip is an absolute dream. Hopefully today will be great! All in the name of gossip, right?

xoxo,

B

About the Author:

Victoria Bright is from a small town in North Carolina and currently resides in Greenville, South Carolina. You can usually find her hoarding bottles of Cool Blue Gatorade, playing The Sims when not writing, or obsessing over Camaros.

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