Read Online Games Divas Play (A Diva Mystery Novel) by Angela Burt-Murray - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Angela Burt-Murray
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I always walked out of those meetings thankful I had a contract in case she ever decided to bounce me out the door over some bullshit.
The best part of my new job was finally running my own show and no longer having to answer to people like Kris Kensington. I assigned the stories. I set the pace. I decided whom we covered and to whom we ga ve a pass.
And now that meant I had to decide whether to cover my best friend’s husband ’s affair.
I decided to put Che off for a little while longer and told MJ to let her know that I had received her e-mails and to hold on posting the story while I attended my weekly meeting with DeAnna. I opened my office closet door and looked into the full-length mirror on the other side of the door to check my look before going in to battle.
Before we came to work at DivaDish , MJ had insisted that I needed a wardrobe upgrade. And he knew my mom would be sending boxes of “business separates” from the Home Shopping Network that he would have to donate to Goodwill, so he called his friend Harper Stevens, a personal shopper at Bergdorf Goodman, and arranged for a complete makeover. Standing naked and vulnerable in the bright, unforgiving light of a Bergdorf dressing room, I knew I was in good hands with Harper. She was fly in a boho chic kind of way, assessed my body and taste in minutes, and returned with an armload of skirts, blouses, dresses (I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d worn one), and jeans, declaring my new look would be urban elegance with edge. I didn’t even know what the hell that meant, but MJ snapped his fingers in appreciation, so I knew there was no g oing back.
The hardest part of the makeover? Aside from blowing my entire Hollywood Scoop! severance package, spreading the balance of that afternoon’s purchases across three credit cards, and spending more on clothes in one afternoon than I had spent in total over the last five years, it was getting used to the heels. Now, don’t get a sister wrong. I l-o-v-e a fabulous shoe. But prior to moving to New York, I saved my shoes for industry events and nights out when Eric managed to plan something for us that didn’t involve a movie ticket or restaurant with a paper napkin dispenser on the table, but MJ and Harper assured me that being taken seriously in Manhattan was all about having a mean shoe game. This explained the acquisition of seven pairs of flat-form pumps, calfskin booties, peep-toe stilettos, and one sick-ass pair of over-the-knee black leather boots that I had no idea where on earth I would actually wear. There wasn’t a flat in sight.
And today’s outfit had been one of my favorites. It was a little dressy for a regular day, but I was having drinks with Vanessa after work. The navy Zac Posen high-waisted skirt with an oversize brushed silver zipper running down the front hugged my full hips and skipped across the top of my knees, making my five-foot-eight frame look long and lean. The matching navy-and-black silk T-shirt with a netting of flowers on the shoulder made it hip for the office. Black suede pumps and an armful of black crystal bangles completed my look. Urban elegan ce indeed.
I spiked up my short cut and smoothed down the sides around my ears. I could feel it was almost time for a touch-up again. The jet-black color that my new stylist had recommended really worked with my deep brown skin tone. I hurriedly put on some clear MAC Lipglass before closing the cl oset door.
I grabbed a file with the site traffic data and new marketing plans, and walked down the hallway to DeAnna’s office on the other side of the floor. The last editor to arrive was considered late by DeAnna.
The entire floor was bustling with activity. There were three other new digital properties inhabiting the floor with DivaDish . The northwest corner housed TheSportsBeatz , run by gruff former TV reporter Rodney Reynolds; this section of the floor sometimes sounded like an actual locker room with a bull pen of
The best part of my new job was finally running my own show and no longer having to answer to people like Kris Kensington. I assigned the stories. I set the pace. I decided whom we covered and to whom we ga ve a pass.
And now that meant I had to decide whether to cover my best friend’s husband ’s affair.
I decided to put Che off for a little while longer and told MJ to let her know that I had received her e-mails and to hold on posting the story while I attended my weekly meeting with DeAnna. I opened my office closet door and looked into the full-length mirror on the other side of the door to check my look before going in to battle.
Before we came to work at DivaDish , MJ had insisted that I needed a wardrobe upgrade. And he knew my mom would be sending boxes of “business separates” from the Home Shopping Network that he would have to donate to Goodwill, so he called his friend Harper Stevens, a personal shopper at Bergdorf Goodman, and arranged for a complete makeover. Standing naked and vulnerable in the bright, unforgiving light of a Bergdorf dressing room, I knew I was in good hands with Harper. She was fly in a boho chic kind of way, assessed my body and taste in minutes, and returned with an armload of skirts, blouses, dresses (I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d worn one), and jeans, declaring my new look would be urban elegance with edge. I didn’t even know what the hell that meant, but MJ snapped his fingers in appreciation, so I knew there was no g oing back.
The hardest part of the makeover? Aside from blowing my entire Hollywood Scoop! severance package, spreading the balance of that afternoon’s purchases across three credit cards, and spending more on clothes in one afternoon than I had spent in total over the last five years, it was getting used to the heels. Now, don’t get a sister wrong. I l-o-v-e a fabulous shoe. But prior to moving to New York, I saved my shoes for industry events and nights out when Eric managed to plan something for us that didn’t involve a movie ticket or restaurant with a paper napkin dispenser on the table, but MJ and Harper assured me that being taken seriously in Manhattan was all about having a mean shoe game. This explained the acquisition of seven pairs of flat-form pumps, calfskin booties, peep-toe stilettos, and one sick-ass pair of over-the-knee black leather boots that I had no idea where on earth I would actually wear. There wasn’t a flat in sight.
And today’s outfit had been one of my favorites. It was a little dressy for a regular day, but I was having drinks with Vanessa after work. The navy Zac Posen high-waisted skirt with an oversize brushed silver zipper running down the front hugged my full hips and skipped across the top of my knees, making my five-foot-eight frame look long and lean. The matching navy-and-black silk T-shirt with a netting of flowers on the shoulder made it hip for the office. Black suede pumps and an armful of black crystal bangles completed my look. Urban elegan ce indeed.
I spiked up my short cut and smoothed down the sides around my ears. I could feel it was almost time for a touch-up again. The jet-black color that my new stylist had recommended really worked with my deep brown skin tone. I hurriedly put on some clear MAC Lipglass before closing the cl oset door.
I grabbed a file with the site traffic data and new marketing plans, and walked down the hallway to DeAnna’s office on the other side of the floor. The last editor to arrive was considered late by DeAnna.
The entire floor was bustling with activity. There were three other new digital properties inhabiting the floor with DivaDish . The northwest corner housed TheSportsBeatz , run by gruff former TV reporter Rodney Reynolds; this section of the floor sometimes sounded like an actual locker room with a bull pen of
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