Gloria finally fuckin answers.
“Connor,” she purrs. “Did you miss me?”
“You know I’m always fuckin hard for you, G.”
“Mmm. I like the sound of that. What can I do for you?”
“I need the number for your guy at Trending Magazine .”
“Why?”
“I just need it.”
“I would be more than happy to give it to you if you’ll tell me why.”
I was hoping she would just give me the number. I sigh, “I need to get a hold of the reporter who did my interview.”
“I thought you said you finished it already.”
“Sort of. I had to cut it short for the reveal thing. I don’t think they have much to work with.” I avoid using the words she or her because I know Gloria will start asking questions.
“And why is that, Connor?”
“Fuck, I don’t know. We didn’t get into much depth. I think more time with—” I almost said her “—the reporter might be good.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Connor?”
I run my hand through my hair. “I’m telling you I didn’t finish the interview. If you want me to have a great article, I need to get a hold of that reporter.”
“What’s the hurry, Connor? You can finish the interview tomorrow.” She’s suspicious.
“They need it for their deadline. Something about getting it to the printers.” I’m making this up.
“Is that right?”
“Yup.”
“Why don’t I believe you, Connor?”
“I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not, G. But if you want me to finish the fuckin interview so I can look good, which means more cash down the line for both of us, get me that number.”
Money is Gloria’s one weakness.
She doesn’t say anything for a long time. “Fine, fine, Connor,” she sighs. “You’re lucky I have a dinner thing tonight with my friends over at Warner Brothers, otherwise I’d sit in on the rest of your interview with you. I’ll have Madeleine get the number for you.” She puts me on hold.
I wait.
And I wait.
Turns out Madeleine doesn’t have Electra’s number. She has to call Trending Magazine to get it from them. It takes forever. While I wait, I wander over to the tennis courts behind the convention hall and watch people smack balls around. The waiting drives me nuts. I haven’t smoked in years, but all of a sudden I really need a cigarette. Right as I’m about to head into the hotel to find a pack, Madeleine texts me Electra’s phone number.
I thank her by text and fire off a message to Electra: Saw you at the booth. I was busy signing. Back at the hotel. Do you want to finish the interview?
I stare at my phone and wait for a response. When I don’t get one, I start thinking about those cigarettes again. My hands shake and I realize I’m cracking up. I fist my hands at my sides and force myself to stare at the tennis game on the court in front of me.
Back. Forth. Back. Forth.
I’m not going to get—Back—a fuckin—Forth—cigarette.
Back. Forth.
The bouncing yellow ball manages to hypnotize me. I zone out on it for who knows how long. I jump when my smart phone pings with a text from Electra.
Do you have time? Or are you too busy with your fans?
I can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or not.
My first thought is to text back something ballsy. But I don’t want to piss her off. For all I know, she’ll refuse to meet up with me. I don’t know why it’s so fuckin important I see her again today, but it is. I got time right now.
My skin crawls while I wait what seems like thirty minutes for a response, but in reality is only thirty seconds.
Electra: Where do you want to meet?
Me: Unless you want fans asking me for autographs the whole time, we should meet in my room.
Her: If I do that, we need ground rules.
Me: What?
Her: No Truth Or Dare. I ask questions. You answer them. NO questions from YOU. Agreed?
Me: Sure.
Her: I’ll be there in ten minutes. Let’s get this over with.
Me: Cool.
Her: If you’re naked I’m kicking you in the balls. You’ve been warned.
I grin to
“Connor,” she purrs. “Did you miss me?”
“You know I’m always fuckin hard for you, G.”
“Mmm. I like the sound of that. What can I do for you?”
“I need the number for your guy at Trending Magazine .”
“Why?”
“I just need it.”
“I would be more than happy to give it to you if you’ll tell me why.”
I was hoping she would just give me the number. I sigh, “I need to get a hold of the reporter who did my interview.”
“I thought you said you finished it already.”
“Sort of. I had to cut it short for the reveal thing. I don’t think they have much to work with.” I avoid using the words she or her because I know Gloria will start asking questions.
“And why is that, Connor?”
“Fuck, I don’t know. We didn’t get into much depth. I think more time with—” I almost said her “—the reporter might be good.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Connor?”
I run my hand through my hair. “I’m telling you I didn’t finish the interview. If you want me to have a great article, I need to get a hold of that reporter.”
“What’s the hurry, Connor? You can finish the interview tomorrow.” She’s suspicious.
“They need it for their deadline. Something about getting it to the printers.” I’m making this up.
“Is that right?”
“Yup.”
“Why don’t I believe you, Connor?”
“I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not, G. But if you want me to finish the fuckin interview so I can look good, which means more cash down the line for both of us, get me that number.”
Money is Gloria’s one weakness.
She doesn’t say anything for a long time. “Fine, fine, Connor,” she sighs. “You’re lucky I have a dinner thing tonight with my friends over at Warner Brothers, otherwise I’d sit in on the rest of your interview with you. I’ll have Madeleine get the number for you.” She puts me on hold.
I wait.
And I wait.
Turns out Madeleine doesn’t have Electra’s number. She has to call Trending Magazine to get it from them. It takes forever. While I wait, I wander over to the tennis courts behind the convention hall and watch people smack balls around. The waiting drives me nuts. I haven’t smoked in years, but all of a sudden I really need a cigarette. Right as I’m about to head into the hotel to find a pack, Madeleine texts me Electra’s phone number.
I thank her by text and fire off a message to Electra: Saw you at the booth. I was busy signing. Back at the hotel. Do you want to finish the interview?
I stare at my phone and wait for a response. When I don’t get one, I start thinking about those cigarettes again. My hands shake and I realize I’m cracking up. I fist my hands at my sides and force myself to stare at the tennis game on the court in front of me.
Back. Forth. Back. Forth.
I’m not going to get—Back—a fuckin—Forth—cigarette.
Back. Forth.
The bouncing yellow ball manages to hypnotize me. I zone out on it for who knows how long. I jump when my smart phone pings with a text from Electra.
Do you have time? Or are you too busy with your fans?
I can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or not.
My first thought is to text back something ballsy. But I don’t want to piss her off. For all I know, she’ll refuse to meet up with me. I don’t know why it’s so fuckin important I see her again today, but it is. I got time right now.
My skin crawls while I wait what seems like thirty minutes for a response, but in reality is only thirty seconds.
Electra: Where do you want to meet?
Me: Unless you want fans asking me for autographs the whole time, we should meet in my room.
Her: If I do that, we need ground rules.
Me: What?
Her: No Truth Or Dare. I ask questions. You answer them. NO questions from YOU. Agreed?
Me: Sure.
Her: I’ll be there in ten minutes. Let’s get this over with.
Me: Cool.
Her: If you’re naked I’m kicking you in the balls. You’ve been warned.
I grin to
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