Page 61 of The Last Dance

I shake my head. ‘I’m afraid not. Something kind of came up after and I ended up not getting the interview after all.’ I wish I didn’t have to lie but I can’t have the truth getting out there. I can’t even tell Jimmy what happened either, because for him Karmen is family and you always side with family.

Once we got home last night Noah deleted everything, so I wouldn’t be tempted to use it. At my request. So, not only do I not have a story, but I don’t have a video or even the photos he took to guarantee that Henry will never accidentally see it. Hearing it from Karmen will be one thing, seeing it along with anyone who stumbles across it on the Internet for years to come would be something completely worse.

‘Uh-oh…’ Margo’s gritted-teeth half-smile doesn’t say good things about how Jimmy will take hearing this. ‘He won’t be happy, which means none of us will be happy because he hates us.’

‘He doesn’thateus. Please, Margo, don’t be so overdramatic. And don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. I’ve got twelve hours before my story has to be turned in and I’m sure I’ve got another contact somewhere. Keep it quiet for now, OK?’

She nods her head, clearly worried as she turns to head back to her side of the office.

I don’t know what got into me this morning, but I hardly said anything to Henry. If I’d stayed any longer than I did, I might have said more than I’m ready for. It’s like he’s put me under some kind of spell that slowly brings back the feelings I was feeling, oh so long ago. Feelings I didn’t even realize I had until I was completely immersed in them.

I toss my bag onto my desk and pull up my contact spreadsheet.

‘Someone, anyone,please…’ I beg the computer screen as I scroll down the list, racking my brain for any conversations with anyone who may have mentioned a celebrity connection over the years.

I hesitate on the name Allison Pearson. Didn’t she have a sibling or a cousin that was trying out for the TV showThe Next Superstar? They did auditions quite a few months ago so if they made it, surely, they’d know by now. I dial her number into my phone, hoping I’m right in remembering correctly and she doesn’t think I’ve lost my mind if I’m not.

‘This is Allison.’ Her voice sounds through the speaker.

‘Allison, hi. I’m not sure if you remember me but I did a piece on your food truck a few months back. I’m Ambri Jennings with PDX Weekly…’

‘Of course, Ambri. Your piece was amazing. I meant to call and thank you, but time seems to have gotten away from me.’

‘It was totally my pleasure, trust me, your food is to die for.’ My stomach growls even just thinking about it.

She makes calzones that could easily put anyone in town out of business. I may or may not have eaten three while I was getting the info for my story. FYI, three calzones equaled about three hours on the treadmill. Worth every minute too.

‘Thank you so much. I really appreciate that.’

‘Actually, that’s not really why I called. I’ve been given the celebrity column and I remember you mentioning someone in your family wanting to try out forThe Next Superstarwhen they were auditioning here a couple months back. Did that happen?’

‘Yes!’ Allison nearly squeals it into the phone. ‘She did, and she’s made it through! She’s in the final four!’

‘Wow! So, I’m way late to the party. That’s amazing. Is there any way I could get her number for an interview? I realize she won’t be able to tell me much but making it to top four is quite impressive and I’ve no doubt our readers are probably already rooting for her. They’d love an article about her.’

‘She would love that, I’m sure. They film again tonight so she’ll know if she’s made it through to the top three this evening. How about if I have her give you a call tomorrow?’

Ugh, tomorrow. Of course, exactly like when I called Karmen I’m on short notice. I can’t seem to win.

‘This is so rude, but I’m on a deadline of tonight. Is there any way she’s available in the next few hours?’ I can write fast if I need to.

‘I’ll do what I can,’ Allison says.

I can almost hear her smile on the phone. She’s one of the sweetest women I’ve interviewed in a long time. Not to mention a chef I would be totally OK with if she were the last one left on the planet. I could live on calzones.

‘Thank you so much!’

‘It’s no problem. We’ll be in touch soon.’

I set my phone on my desk when she hangs up, leaning back in my chair, letting out a huge sigh of relief. It might not be final yet but it’s a damn good start. It’s exactly what I needed to start to believe I might actually be able to do this column on my own.

‘I heard you didn’t get your story.’ Trevor, the biggest brown-noser ever, and the guy Jimmy was about to offer the column to had I turned it down, leans onto the waist-high cubicle wall separating our workstations.

‘Igotthe story, I decided not to use it.’ There is no reason Trevor needs to know why, but he should at least be informed that I got the story. I’m not a failure. Mostly.

‘Why would you do that? You know if you don’t run that story Jimmy will flip a nut.’

‘I’m aware, Trevor. Far too aware.’

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