Page 47 of Love on the Byline

“This is very cool,” she said as they stepped inside, takingin the dark wood furniture, brocade-covered couches, and leather armchairs inthe seating nooks.

The bar’s low lighting lent an intimate ambiance to the space,despite the high ceilings, its atmosphere perfect for drinks and longconversations.

Before that moment, Ollie hadn’t thought of it asparticularly romantic. They were seated at a two-top in a back corner, tuckedaway from the large central bar. It showcased an array of exquisite glasswareand a bottle display that always drew a crowd, and he was glad for their secludedspot.

Blake’s warm brown skin glowed in the light from thecandelabra over their table.

“That is a lot of books,” she said, looking around at thefloor-to ceiling bookcases that covered nearly every wall.

They were seated by a bookcase labeled Western classics,next to a shelf that held works of American literature from Poe, Wilde, Butler,and others. For a moment, time had rewound itself.

Blake’s brows arched as she skimmed the spines. “These bringback memories,” she said, her tongue darting out to fold over her plump bottomlip.

She had no idea.

Ollie swallowed tightly, trying to ignore the flicker ofheat igniting at the base of his spine.

“I can see why you like this place.”

“Yeah?”

“Reminds me of U of P.”

Our spot, he didn’t say. “The library.”

“I guess some things never change.”

But some things had. “How did you end up at the Gazette?”

There was no humor in her smile this time. “It’s a toughindustry.” Blake picked up the small leather portfolio that held the menu, hergaze scanning the pages as she spoke. “Tougher every day with fewer outlets andAI replacing reporters. I’m on one of the few paths left.”

“How much do you hate writing about famous people?”

“So much.” Her shoulders slumped. “But I’m working onsomething that I hope—fingers crossed—will get me out of that racket.”

“And that’s related to Play L.A.?”

“Yeah.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Someone istargeting the kids there, and at other organizations like it.”

He frowned. “Targeting, how?”

“Deanna confirmed that a couple of the teens have been approachedby quote-unquote talent scouts and coerced into signing contracts.”

“Contracts for...?”

“Recording, modeling, acting... They’re not picky,” Blakesaid with obvious distaste. “They prey on the dreams of these kids who have fewprospects, and tie them to terms that are extremely unfavorable. It’slike...well, it’s close to slavery. And...” She hesitated. “In a few cases, Isuspect it is. One young woman, Belinda—do you know her?”

Ollie frowned. “No, but I have heard her name mentioned afew times. What happened to her?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. She signed with DiamondMoon Enterprises, that’s the company, and not long after she was brought up ontrafficking charges. She’s seventeen.”

“What? Jesus.” Shock didn’t cover what he felt. Anger, disbelief,and behind that a sense of negligence on his part. “And these people are stillafter some of the kids?”

“Deanna believes so, and I’m inclined to agree. None of thestudents will talk to her, and they certainly won’t talk to me. And I can’t getanyone at the agency to return my calls. I almost crashed an event they werehaving at a hotel in Studio City.”

“What stopped you? I seem to recall you sneaking into a fewfaculty-only meetings back at school.”

She huffed a short laugh. “My sense of self-preservationwasn’t too keen back then. I should have been more worried about gettingexpelled.” She sighed. “I can’t afford to lose my job, which I would if I wereto get caught sneaking into an industry function.”

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