Page 9 of Doesn't Count

She catches my eyes and smirks, dropping her bags on her desk noisily before walking over.

“Cute outfit!” Justina points to my Taylor Swift shirt, an undertone of condescension at the word cute. “If I had to guess, I would say you’re hoping to get Taylor Swift as an assignment.”

“I’d take anybody, but she would definitely be a bonus.” I mumble, forcing a response from my lips.

“I’ve heard there are some no names thrown in the mix.” She eyes me wondering how I feel about that.

“Blane mentioned that yesterday when he said there will be artists we haven’t heard of.”

“He did, but he didn’t mention that these no-names are like local pub bands. You know how hard it is to convince a large population to buy into a niche genre? The audience will be minimal for sure.”

“Where are you getting this information? We just found out about this project yesterday and somehow you have all this insight.” I accuse.

It’s been a rumor for quite some time that Justina and Blane have athing. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true and all these tidbits of information she’s sharing on a project that’s been concealed for months just seems fishy.

“Open your ears, Ash. People haven’t stopped talking about this project. I didn’t say any of it was true.” She deflects.

I nod, pursing my lips. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to find out what’s been going on between her and the boss, but my imagination is so much more fun.

“Anyway, I hope you get the artist you want.” She smiles, flicking her dark hair off her shoulder as she walks away.

“She’s definitely sleeping with Blane.” Jake mutters under his breath.

“I heard her dad is one of the largest music producers in theindustry. I bet she name drops every chance she gets.” Marcy adds, shaking her head.

My eyebrows shoot up my forehead as I turn behind me to face her.

“What?” She shrugs.

“I didn’t think you were the gossiping type. Just surprised is all.” I try to fight my smile.

Marcy is in her early fifties, with a disinterest in fashion and the concept of makeup but can surprise the hell out of you with her knowledge of the industry.

“Eh, not really gossip if it’s true.” She waves me off.

“Who’s her father?” I ask, shuffling through all the producers I know, none with the last name Sampson.

“Jarrod Bleaker.” She whispers loud enough for me and Jake.

My eyes widen, “No way! How do you know that’s actually her dad? What if she’s lying?”

“He’s acknowledged it in a couple interviews. He never married so Justina took her mother’s maiden name.” She explains.

I nod. Suddenly, things were adding up. I glance over at Justina, watching her engage in an intense conversation with another co-worker. I never felt intimidated by her seeing as she stole my work to get this job, but suddenly I feel uneasy. Her dad has power and if she name drops like Marcy said, I’m not just competing with Justina, I’m competing with Jarrod Bleaker and that’s not really a competition at all. Not one I can ever win.

Shaking off this new information, I try to focus on finding another topic for my next article, filling the hour before my meeting with Blane. My attention is pulled at the faintest knock on the other side of the office. Looking up I find Justina standing in front of Blane’s door fixing herhair.

"Great.” I huff.

The last thing I want is to be considered after she’s already left her mark.

“Ten bucks she comes out with sex hair.” Jake bets.

“Ten bucks she comes out with blowjob lips.” I counter.

“What the hell are blowjob lips?” He scrunches his face.

“I don’t know, puffy, lip gloss smeared everywhere, maybe a little dribble on her chest.” I explain.

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