Page 2 of Red

I spun my chair around to face the welcome, familiar voice. Peter Rhodes was my first friend when I started working at The Dish, swooping in to save the day after Perri laughed me right out of my first staff meeting. I pitched a no-holds-barred story on Mia Kent and her crazy mom-ager. I’d never been one to run from a

fight, or shed a single tear in front of anyone, but I almost broke that rule. Perri had perfected the art of making her staff feel like complete, and utter idiots with scathing remarks that cut deeper than any knife...and that day was my turn under the blade.

Peter brought me a cup of coffee, along with my first advice on the job.

“Don’t take Perri personally...she doesn’t deserve it. Any idea that doesn’t involve a camel toe picture or something equally ridiculous will never get her stamp of approval.”

We bonded over the fact that we were both journalism majors with aspirations that exceeded the busy work we did at The Dish, but the city was expensive and pride didn’t pay the bills. When I found out that he was the only man alive who actually admitted that he enjoyed The Notebook, I knew we’d be great friends.

“Hey Peter,” I cracked a grin. “Pulitzer Prize winning coverage on the premiere last night.”

He puffed out his chest. “Another to add to my illustrious career.” He narrowed his deep brown eyes, scanning my computer screen. “I think a more interesting story is the fact that Chas only ate half of her fifty dollar burger, but hey, I’m just a lowly entertainment reporter.”

“You and me both,” I chuckled, picking up my paltry lunch and offering him a bite.

He made a face. “I appreciate it, but now that I’ve seen that burger, I’m gonna hunt down one of my own.” He cocked his head towards the elevator. “Wanna get out of here?”

I almost said yes, but the spark in his eyes, combined with the our last encounter, made me hesitate. My roommate and I threw a dinner party and after three glasses of sangria and two jello shots, he tried to kiss me.

“I’m super behind, but enjoy it for the both of us, okay?” I said, a little too chipper.

“Your loss,” he winked with a shrug, but I didn’t miss the undercurrent of something else in the words. And just to solidify that things were still a little bit off with us, he touched the rim of his hat and booked it toward the exit like the fire alarm had gone off.

I didn’t miss the handful of eyes that followed his departure. Peter had this casual charm, cool musician thing happening—shaggy brown hair, days old scruff, and wrist-to-shoulder tattoo sleeves—but he was like a big brother to me. And even if I saw him as more than a friend, I’d learned the hard way that it’s a really, really bad idea to date a co-worker.

To be fair, I couldn’t remember the last date I’d been on, period. I’d relocated a year ago, determined to make every single one of my dreams come true: become an entertainment reporter, and have lots of no strings attached you know what. I’d dated and worked with my ex from my freshman year of college until graduation and it was a roller-coaster of emotions. A lot of firsts were checked off the list: first real boyfriend, first time I had sex, first time I was cheated on, and the first time I stood up for myself and told a guy to fuck off. So I decided that I wouldn’t bother with complications, and I would never let myself fall so deep that my heart was even on the table.

With all the whackos that I should have swiped left on, I amended my dreams and decided to focus on my career. The Dish was just the beginning. I longed to ask tough questions. To be the one that shone the light into closets and dug up all kinds of skeletons.

And I had a plan.

It started off as mere rumors. Someone knew a guy who knew a girl who heard about a BDSM club. Hush was an invite-only sex club where celebs got all kinds of kinky and freaky. That kind of club, filled with secrets, was the kind of place where I could go from ‘By: Staff’ to ‘By: Sophia Slater’.

But first, a caption.

I brought my cup of noodles to my lips, sipping on the chicken-like, soupy water. When I put it back down, I had my line.

‘Chastity Kennedy takes no prisoners, devouring her burger at popular eatery, Hot Meat’. I zipped it off to my manager, who would email it to Perri. The only time we were allowed to communicate directly with Perri was during the weekly staff meetings, and it was far from a pleasant process. Perri ruled the staff with an iron fist and had a cackle that had sent many writers, male and female, to the bathroom in tears.

I glanced around to make sure no one was hovering around my cubicle, then pulled out my phone. I tapped the ‘Notes’ icon where my secret assignment was stored.

I had a whole identity ready to go. Since the allure of Hush was escape, the extent of their screening process was a background check to make sure applicants hadn’t murdered anyone or committed some unspeakable crime. If I was asked why I wanted to work at Hush, I wouldn’t say I wanted to learn as much about the A-list management, staff, and clients that sought out the whips, chains, and naughty things that went on behind closed doors. I’d wax lyrical about being drawn to the dark, beautiful world of BDSM. It wouldn’t be far from the truth considering I’d actually watched movies like Secretary and 50 Shades more times than I was willing to admit. I’d even throw in a little bit of truth, talking about feeling ostracized from the rest of my peers growing up. Girls who wanted babies and PTA meetings. Guys who said they wanted a girl like me who was free and ambitious, but really wanted the girls that wanted white picket fences. Guys like my ex.

When my screen dinged with an IM from my manager, I quickly put my phone away, like she was hovering over my shoulder instead of halfway across the room.

Melissa:

Hey Soph! Perri gave it the go ahead. It’s going on the site in the next half hour, front page. Keep up the good work. :)

If she was the boss, things might have been different. Melissa was gentle but firm, and actually listened instead of getting off on scaring the staff into submission. Before I realized all Perri wanted was gossip and quirky one liners, hearing that she loved my work would have meant something. Now, I just smiled and sent back a thanks to Melissa and thought about how Perri’s head would explode once my expose on Hush went live. She’d realize she had a writer with killer instincts, ready to change the game...and she’d dropped the ball because she had me writing copy about an actress eating a burger.

Chapter Two: Desmond

Every eye in the room looked at me for salvation.

Every dream hung in the balance.

Only five names would be called, five people who were safe until we did this whole song and dance all over again. The editing team would work their magic tonight, turning these tortured moments into theatre. They'd find the fevered rhythm and cut to every sweaty, hopeful face. Music would add the suspense, and the audience would eat it right up. The standard, deep, and all-knowing voice would be added to the video, reiterating everything that was at stake. A quarter of a million dollars. A life changing amount of money.

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