1
Sophie
I fall into a chair at Surfing Tacos where my best friend Teegan and her new friend group, courtesy of her boyfriend Leo, are sitting at a table in the back of the beachside restaurant.
Teegan’s eyes widen when she looks over. “Bad day?”
“You could say that. I had a phone interview with another magazine that I stumbled through. I’m definitely not getting the job. Then I find out Jackass Henry gave the Gingerbread Showdown gig to another writer because he’s his nephew or something.”
Teegan’s man, Leo, passes me a beer and I shoot him an expression of gratitude. These are his friends and significant others, one of whom includes Hollywood’s ‘it’ actress Layla Andrews. When Teegan first told me about these new women in her life, I wanted to wrap my arms around my bestie and lock her in my apartment. Turns out they’re all cool. We do shopping excursions together all the time now.
“I have connections,” Layla says, eyeing me over her drink. “Let me use them.”
I shake my head. See? How can you hate her even if she wears a size two and doesn’t show any signs of aging? “We’ve been over this. I want to earn it.”
“You will earn it, but sometimes people need a shove in the door.” Vance puts his arm around Layla with his free hand. His other hand colors with Layla’s daughter Via. The man can multi-task like no one else.
“I have some connections too. They’re in the book world, but I know some people who work for big papers. I could make a few calls.” Jagger’s wife Quinn hesitantly smiles because she doesn’t want to push me. As much as I like everyone at this table it’s hard being surrounded by people who are all so successful.
I mean, Layla’s an actress, Vance is a screenwriter, Quinn is an acclaimed author, and Jagger owns his own agency. Leo started his own company that manufacturers dog clothes that’s turned into a huge success and Teegan handles all his PR for him. And since they’re all the sweetest couples I get a toothache just looking at them.
Then there’s me, writing for the local magazine, What’s Up LA, and failing at life. I still live in my one-bedroom apartment and have to check my checking account before going out on the weekend.
Jagger puts his large hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Stop being stubborn and take the help.”
I blow out a breath and sip my beer.
Teegan wants to say something but luckily the waitress distracts and comes to ask for our food orders.
My phone dings in my purse but I ignore it because I’m not in the mood for any more shitty news. Especially since the best thing about coming to Surfing Tacos are the surfers who visit it regularly. And the blond hottie that just came in has my name written all over him.
But when my phone alerts to a voicemail, I tear my eyes away from the guy who, let’s be honest, would probably only be good for a one-night stand and that’s about all.
I pick up my phone and see it’s my boss Henry who called. Whatever jackass.
“Hey Soph, Henry. Turns out I will need you to cover the Gingerbread Showdown after all.”
“What happened to your nephew?” I can’t help my snide tone.
“Got something bigger I need him on.” I roll my eyes. “You need to report there tomorrow at ten am. It’s just for press coverage so they’ll direct you. Please, just don’t cause any waves. Call me when you finish with a recap.”
The call disconnects, and my mouth hangs open from his audacity to use what happened to me two years ago against me.
“What?” Teegan asks.
“Well, I got the gig much to Henry’s dismay, I think. And he pretty much implied that I cause trouble wherever I go.”
Teegan says nothing, and the table falls quiet. With two kids present we should declare it a miracle.
“We’re two of a kind.” Jagger laughs.
I smack him in the shoulder. “I’m nothing like you.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Let’s go over some examples, shall we?”
“Jag,” Leo warns.
Jagger ignores Leo and turns to look me square in the eye. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Own it. What happened at the Winter Games?”
I huff. So, I got caught on a ski lift with my top pushed up to my neck and a professional skier’s tongue in my mouth. It could happen to anyone.
“And then there was the time you covered the Flea Market,” Jagger continues. Everyone chuckles.
I point at him. “That was not my fault. Their stuff wasn’t authentic.”
“But instead of just reporting it you went after them until it caused a fight.”
“They were forging Layla’s signature,” I argue.
Jagger holds up his hands. “I’m not saying anything is wrong with it. I’d do it all the same way you did.”
“Excuse me?” Quinn’s hand with her sparkling million-dollar ring (okay, maybe a slight exaggeration), lands on her husband’s leg.
“Not the Winter Games thing babe. You know you’re the only pussy I eat.”
“Jag!” Layla screeches and looks across the table, but Vance already has his hands over Via’s ears. Layla’s son, Payne, who’s a little older, chuckles. I’m guessing this isn’t the first time Jagger has said something inappropriate in front of him.
“Sorry.” He eyes his wife’s small swollen belly. “We’re getting off course. I’m just saying, fuck him.”
“Jag!” This time it’s Vance but knowing his best friend he kept his hands over his stepdaughter’s ears anyway.
“I’m thinking you might have to take a parenting class before this one arrives.” Quinn rubs her belly and the whole table laughs.
“That kid’s first word is going to be pussy,” Leo says and Teegan widens her eyes at them.
“At this point Payne and Via will use the word on the regular,” Layla says, but she doesn’t seem horribly upset about it.
“You’re a writer and you want the story. The truth. I get it.” Jagger disregards the table and continues doling out his advice to me. “I’m an agent, do you have any idea how much of an as—jerk…”
Quinn claps for her husband on not swearing.
“I’m one all the time and unapologetically so. I do what gets my client the best deal. They hire me because of that. For you it’s getting the reader’s the real story. And if your boss can’t see that than find another job.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Believe me, your biting chihuahua personality is what anyone who appreciates journalistic integrity would covet. So own it.”
Quinn leans forward. “That’s his way of giving you a compliment by the way. Just in case it wasn’t obvious.”
I smile.
“Now, you’ve been eyeing that guy outside on the patio. Go celebrate… with him.” I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Jagger noticed. It’s his job to read people and use it to his advantage.
My gaze moves to the blond who’s all dimples and laughter with his friends. As though he can feel me staring, his gaze connects with mine and I hold it long enough to judge that there’s interest on his part too.