Page 17 of The Last Dance

Please, don’t hang up on me.

‘Huh… that’s so weird. My uncle gave my number to some random,’ she says away from the phone, clearly talking to someone else on her end of the call.

‘So?’ a muffled male voice I can barely hear says in the distance.

‘What do you need again?’

I sigh into the phone, ready to hang up and do my best to find my own story but I know that won’t make Jimmy any happier than he already is. I mean, I could use the time I touched Justin Furstenfeld of Blue October during a show. Had I not been twenty-two years old, I might have never washed my hand again. I’m thinking he wouldn’t be thrilled with this kind of fangirl moment.

‘I’m a reporter for your uncle’s website, PDX Weekly. Our celebrity journalist quit this week, leaving me, a food writer, to fill in for him. Jimmy gave me your number because you work with celebrities and he thought you might be able to help me out with a story on short notice.’

Good Lord, please let her have listened to me this time. If I have to repeat myself again, I’m giving up.

‘Oh-h-h… so you’re looking for dirt on someone?’

‘Kind of. I guess dirt, news, divorce, local up-and-coming celebrities, a last-minute interview with anyone considered even a little bit famous, whatever you’ve got would be great.’

I stop short of telling her I’m desperate. Which, let’s face it, I pretty much am. It’s not like PDX Weekly is some kind of mega-popular news site with thousands of shares, but it’s a job and it pays my bills better than Starbucks used to and, in all honesty, I actuallylikewriting the food column for a site that isn’t too crazed withmust go viralstories.

I’m waiting for her response, standing outside my car, fingers crossed in case the whole superstitious good luck thing is for real. I can’t take any chances.

‘Sure! I can do that. Why don’t you meet me for lunch tomorrow, noon, at Imperial on Broadway?’

A giddy feeling bubbles up in my stomach. ‘Perfect! I love that place!’

I did a story on Imperial recently after spending a couple hours there with the chef literally tasting just about everything on their menu in one sitting. I didn’t need to eat for the rest of the week. I did, but still… minor detail.

‘Good. I’ll see you then!’

‘Yeah, thank you so mu—’ Before I can even finish my sentence I can tell she’s already hung up.

Maybe she was busy, and I caught her at a bad time. Or maybe she’s a typical snooty socialite who thinks she can treat people like garbage because she’s more popular than them. I can’t say I’m personally friends with any of these types of people, but I’ve heard horror stories from other journalists. I guess I’ll know for sure tomorrow.

Before I can get my phone back into my bag, it buzzes with an incoming text.

All OK?

Noah is patiently awaiting my arrival, hopefully not having watched ahead in the beginning of our bingefest ofSchitt’s Creekon Netflix. I totally didn’t think I’d like the show but after a few episodes I’m hooked.

Yup. On my way back. Don’t you dare unpause it ‘til I get there!

I’ll wait until I get there to tell him I now have to work through half our weekend. I really hope he put my half-eaten Ben & Jerry’s back into the freezer. Wasting a Ben & Jerry’s has to be some kind of sin. If not, it should be.

Noah and I have been together almost a year. Long enough for him to know exactly how important BenandJerry are to me. I mean, how could he not? My freezer is full of it. Surely, he’d make sure they didn’t suffer any unnecessary stress while I was out.

We used to go out on Friday nights, you know, back when he was trying to woo me. I was a bit of a reluctant dater at first. Not because Noah isn’t a great guy but because my heart just wasn’t ready. I’m still not really sure if it’s ready if I’m honest. But now that it’s been nearly a year, we seem to be equally impressed with one another and would rather not spend time doing the whole unnecessary spending thing that is trying to knock someone off their feet. Portland isn’t exactly the cheapest city to live in.

If he wants to knock me off my feet all he has to do is show up at my door, unexpectedly, in uniform. He’s a police officer and for some reason the uniform does it for me every time. It helps that he’s more than easy on the eyes too.

*

‘How’d it go?’ he asks as I walk through my front door.

‘Ugh…’ I groan. ‘Josh quit, the article he turned in today was his resignation so Jimmy wants me to write a new story by tomorrow night. Normally I’d be thrilled to even be asked but he writes celebrity stuff and I don’t know that world at all.’

‘What kind of celebrity stuff?’

‘God, Noah, I didn’t even think of that. I have no idea. I’ve never been interested enough to actually read much of what he wrote. I’d assume it could be anything.’

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