There’s a murmur around the office.
‘Liv,’ Tumi calls from the meeting room doorway. ‘Can I have a word?’
I scurry over.
‘Shut the door,’ she snaps. ‘Sit down.’
I do as I’m told, hiding my shaking hands under the table.
‘Paul had a call from Christie Blackmore last night,’ she says. ‘She wants to contribute to the Will Bailey feature we’re doing.’
My mind’s racing. I don’t know what to say, so I keep my mouth shut.
‘Paul felt like a fool, not knowing about a feature in his own magazine. Do you know anything about this?’
‘No…’
‘Funny that, because Christie described the “journalist” she spoke to.’ Tumi doesn’t need to use fingers for the air quotes; her voice does the job all by itself. ‘And she sounds a lot like you.’
‘Me?’
‘Come on, Liv, just tell me what happened.’
The words tumble out of my mouth in a rush. ‘I met her at Beatland. Brett Lewis introduced me to her.’
Her eyes widen. ‘And you were with Brett Lewis because…?’
I grimace. ‘I interviewed him.’
‘Hang on,’ Tumi gives a quick shake of her head. ‘Back up, start from the beginning.’
‘You gave me that press pass for Beatland…’
Her eyebrows squish together. ‘Yeah, to have a bit of fun in the VIP area, lounge around on a Bali bed, nab a free drink and a goodie bag, not to interview rock stars!’
‘I know. I got carried away with the whole pretending to be anAmplifyjournalist thing.’
‘What exactly did you say to him?’
I tell Tumi about the balcony and the champagne and everything I remember about my conversation with him.
When I’m done, she says, ‘Please tell me you recorded the interview?’
‘I got the whole thing on my phone…’
She slumps back in her chair.
‘But it got stolen.’
Tumi sits forward again, her head in her hands. ‘No!’
‘What is it?’
‘Paul’s a massive Paradigm fan. He’s been trying to get an interview with him for years.’
‘Oh.’
She shakes her head as though trying to clear it. ‘Where does Christie Blackmore come into this?’