Read Online Games Divas Play (A Diva Mystery Novel) by Angela Burt-Murray - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Angela Burt-Murray
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my ego and my first impulse to shove the contract back across the table and tell DeAnna where to stick it, but unfortunately she was right. Just within the last week I had started to realize how limited my options really were. My calls and e-mails to contacts at outlets that had previously expressed interest in my work went unreturned and unanswered. The word was out. My career was officially DOA in LA thanks to Kris, and her version of my firing was sure to get to the East Coast media outlets within the week as well. But while I digested that this could be the only job offer I received and that eking out a living as a freelance writer wouldn’t cut it, I knew there was one thing that DeAnna had to agree to or I could never tak e the job.
“OK, I can accept the salary, but one point that’s nonnegotiable for me is that I must be allowed to bring my assistant, Marquis Jackson, with me.” I sat back in my chair and stared back at DeAnna. I was ready to walk away over this point, and sh e knew it.
“Fine. I’ll have legal adjust the contract to include your assistant, Marquis, and send the revised agreement to your home this evening to sign.”
I accepted the terms of her offer, and within forty-eight hours, human resources had arranged for my apartment and MJ’s to be packed up and the contents shipped to New York.
When we arrived at the DivaDish offices, MJ jumped on decorating the office. He’d done a great job. There were a plush cream-colored sofa, two black linen and chrome chairs, and a glass coffee table with chrome furnishings. A fifty-four-inch HD flat screen was mounted on the wall along with a series of black-and-white photographs of celebrities behind the sofa and a large zebra-skin rug on the floor.
I got busy meeting the new team, whose members seemed bright, competitive, and passionate about the brand and the growing audience. They were all young, hungry, and ready to put DivaDish on the map, but the senior editor, Che Williams, had really distinguished herself as a dogged reporter with a knack for landing juicy scoops, great underground contacts, and a hip writing style that readers really liked. There was only one bad apple in the bunch: a self-important fashion reporter named Basil Greene whom DeAnna had personally hired. Lazy, loud, and with an affinity for long lunches and cocktails, he quickly got on both MJ’s and my bad side.
Up by six o’clock and in the office by seven thirty each morning, I spent the first half hour of my day scouring competing websites. I then checked the chatter on our Facebook page and Twitter account, posted some questions to spur discussion, and then responded to e-mail. At eight thirty, I met with the editorial team to talk about the day’s assignments, brainstorm new articles, and review the hottest celebrity photos from the photo agencies to make our selects for the day. We’d then review any overnight star sightings, breakups, or makeups, and our marketing and social media teams would review traffic patterns and develop new content opportunities and campaigns.
Being editor in chief for DivaDish was fun and fast-paced. I reported on the celebrities that I cared about, like Gabrielle Union and her hot romance with Dwyane Wade; the opening of Steve Harvey’s new movie; Usher’s baby mama drama; Beyoncé and Jay Z’s daughter, Blue Ivy; Kim Kardashian and Kanye’s latest antics; and Zoe Saldana’s blockbuster. I no longer had to pretend to be just as obsessed as my former Hollywood Scoop! colleagues with the likes of just-plain-old-boring Jennife r Aniston.
The first two weeks DeAnna left me alone to get acclimated and gel with the team. But by week three, she included me in her weekly update meetings during which she reviewed the business, newsstand sales, and traffic goals in painstaking detail with all her editors. All the editors made sure to overprepare for the weekly torture sessions because DeAnna was exacting and icy, and she never missed anything.
“OK, I can accept the salary, but one point that’s nonnegotiable for me is that I must be allowed to bring my assistant, Marquis Jackson, with me.” I sat back in my chair and stared back at DeAnna. I was ready to walk away over this point, and sh e knew it.
“Fine. I’ll have legal adjust the contract to include your assistant, Marquis, and send the revised agreement to your home this evening to sign.”
I accepted the terms of her offer, and within forty-eight hours, human resources had arranged for my apartment and MJ’s to be packed up and the contents shipped to New York.
When we arrived at the DivaDish offices, MJ jumped on decorating the office. He’d done a great job. There were a plush cream-colored sofa, two black linen and chrome chairs, and a glass coffee table with chrome furnishings. A fifty-four-inch HD flat screen was mounted on the wall along with a series of black-and-white photographs of celebrities behind the sofa and a large zebra-skin rug on the floor.
I got busy meeting the new team, whose members seemed bright, competitive, and passionate about the brand and the growing audience. They were all young, hungry, and ready to put DivaDish on the map, but the senior editor, Che Williams, had really distinguished herself as a dogged reporter with a knack for landing juicy scoops, great underground contacts, and a hip writing style that readers really liked. There was only one bad apple in the bunch: a self-important fashion reporter named Basil Greene whom DeAnna had personally hired. Lazy, loud, and with an affinity for long lunches and cocktails, he quickly got on both MJ’s and my bad side.
Up by six o’clock and in the office by seven thirty each morning, I spent the first half hour of my day scouring competing websites. I then checked the chatter on our Facebook page and Twitter account, posted some questions to spur discussion, and then responded to e-mail. At eight thirty, I met with the editorial team to talk about the day’s assignments, brainstorm new articles, and review the hottest celebrity photos from the photo agencies to make our selects for the day. We’d then review any overnight star sightings, breakups, or makeups, and our marketing and social media teams would review traffic patterns and develop new content opportunities and campaigns.
Being editor in chief for DivaDish was fun and fast-paced. I reported on the celebrities that I cared about, like Gabrielle Union and her hot romance with Dwyane Wade; the opening of Steve Harvey’s new movie; Usher’s baby mama drama; Beyoncé and Jay Z’s daughter, Blue Ivy; Kim Kardashian and Kanye’s latest antics; and Zoe Saldana’s blockbuster. I no longer had to pretend to be just as obsessed as my former Hollywood Scoop! colleagues with the likes of just-plain-old-boring Jennife r Aniston.
The first two weeks DeAnna left me alone to get acclimated and gel with the team. But by week three, she included me in her weekly update meetings during which she reviewed the business, newsstand sales, and traffic goals in painstaking detail with all her editors. All the editors made sure to overprepare for the weekly torture sessions because DeAnna was exacting and icy, and she never missed anything.
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