Page 7 of On the Beat

“La Mode just fired one of their staff writers, so you’ll be taking her position.”

“Who did they fire?” I readLa Modealmost religiously, and have since I was a little girl. I could recite all the writers’ names by heart.

“Poppy Black,” she says.

I jot down a note, in case I need to include it in my article, and pick up the plane ticket. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

She slides a plane ticket across the desk to me. “No. And Isla… take this.”

Standing up from the chair and putting my iPad away, I take the ticket. I blink once, then again to see if I’ve read it correctly. “You’re sending me to the Philippines?”

When I thought I wanted to see how my parents’ love story started, I didn’t think I would see itright now.

“Your accommodations have been booked,” she assures me. “Someone will meet you at the airport and you’ll be staying in one of the finest hotels in the area.”

Questions and worries buzz through my mind like a swarm of bees. Going to a country I’ve only visited twice before, where my parents are from, to stalk a pop star who, from his image alone, won’t want anything to do with me…

“Isla,” Jane says again.

My head snaps up. “Yes?”

“I don’t want to scare you, but the fate of your career is riding on this article.”

* * *

Suitcase unzipped, closet doors yanked open, and a playlist of Beyonce, Little Mix, and Moira Dela Torre blaring from my Bluetooth speakers, I frantically pack to be on time for my six pm flight.

“Isla?” Kaiden yells, his voice reverberating through the paper-thin walls of our tiny apartment. “I’m home.”

Normally, he wouldn’t announce his presence like this, but normally, I’d be lounging on the couch watching nature documentaries. The fact that I’m not must worry him.

“In here!” I shout back, hastily folding a t-shirt and shoving it into my Tumi luggage, a graduation present from my parents.

He opens my room door, and examines the scenario. “The FBI found you, didn’t they? I bet you’re going to jail now. Just tell me, before you go, where did you hide the nuclear codes?”

I groan, half from his antics and half from the strain of trying to zip up my suitcase. “A little help would be nice.”

“Answers would be nice, too,” he says, though he slides my suitcase towards him and easily closes it. “Is this an impromptu vacation? You didn’t tell me you were going anywhere. Can I sublet your room while you’re gone?”

“No and no,” I say, hunting for my toothbrush. “My editor is sending me on assignment in the Philippines.”

His eyebrows rise. “Are they opening a Filipino branch or something? Do you even speak any Tagalog?”

“No, and yes,” I say. “I speak alittle. I’m being sent there to go… star-gazing.”

“Star-gazing,” he repeats. “If you mean gazing at the pop star, Ryder Black…”

“How do you know he’s there?” I stop looking for a tube of toothpaste that is small enough to pass the TSA check and swivel to face him.

“The same way I get all my news,” he says, waving his phone around. “Twitter. Or, I should say, the Twitter account,Muse Unmasked.”

Everyone follows that celebrity gossip site with a vengeance, though I have no idea why. The appeal is that they seem to have some kind of insider source, and some speculate that the writer may even be a celebrity themselves, but the writer has never revealed his or her identity. “You read that blog?”

“I need to be aware of my competition,” he says. “Need me to drive you to the airport?”

I check my watch. Three pm. “Yes, please.”

We spend the next hour hurriedly packing up my things. I cram a hairbrush, toothbrush, and a travel-sized set of toiletries that Kaiden’s last girlfriend left here and never used into my carry-on bag. Even if he can be annoying, Kaiden has always been a great partner in crime ever since we met when I first moved to L.A. and was looking for a roommate. He showed me the ins and outs of the celebrity gossip scene, those on the fringes of fame who rotated around the stars. Kaiden is the one who introduced me to the best food places in town for a late-night taco run or bowl of oxtail stew.

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