Page 98 of When Glitter Meets Gold

A few moments pass where we pay each other no attention, sipping on our drinks and listening to the piano chime out notes to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.

“Why aren’t you enjoying the party?” Magdalena asks. “When I was your age, I’d be using this time to figure out which rich jerk I could tolerate long enough to spend the night with.”

I’m smirking. “You think you’re too old to be doing that now?”

“I didn’t say I’m too old.” She eyes me sharply. “I just figured out I can’t tolerate them anymore. Not even for a night.”

I laugh. Then take a sip of the strange scotch and lemonade combination, which doesn’t taste as bad as I’d imagined.

I sigh. “I don’t suppose you noticed the entourage I was with at Midas?” I ask, not expecting her to recall everyone I was with that night.

She snorts, huffing out a laugh. “I remember.”

I suppose it was hard to forget the incident with Amberand the barstool, and then the argument between Jack and Drew.

“One of them was my friend.” I clutch the glass with both hands. “And he somehow got the job I’ve been breaking my ass to get promoted to.”

Magdalena’s eyebrows tick up and down. “You went after the same job?” She sucks in a breath. “That’s one way to test a friendship.”

I push the drink away. “He didn’t tell me he was going after it. He even said he’d help me prep for the interview.” I groan. “Anyway, I just found out tonight and I didn’t want to run into him before I had time to process the whole thing.”

I look down at my drink, but I can feel Magdalena’s eyes resting on me while her inky nails drum on the counter. “This friend of yours, does he have a name?”

I run a hand through my hair, desperate to put this behind me. “Drew,” I say, like it matters. “Big muscles, super white teeth, smiles a lot.”

“The one who got in Vandenberg’s face. I remember,” Magdalena says.

Then, she reaches for her bag, a black ostrich feather purse with bulbous brass clasps. Her aged hands rummage in the crevices until she produces a flip lighter.

She pats at her dress, cursing as she appears to search for something else. Finally, she retrieves a small pack of cigarettes from the long drapes of her dress, accompanied with a victory grunt of approval.

She slides down from the stool, removing a cigarette from the pack. “Well, Sara. Sounds like you gotta be more careful who you make friends with.” She taps the flat end of the cigarette against the countertop while I battle the urge to thank her for that groundbreaking advice.

When I think she’s about to leave, she looks at me overher shoulder. “You also might want to consider that if this Drew character was low enough to scoop that job out from under your feet,” she says tucking a long tendril of black hair behind her ear. “What makes you think he stopped there?”

41

SARA

Magdalena had tossed a couple of twenty-dollar bills at the bartender before strolling toward the exit. Grumbling and hissing about going too long without a cigarette. I’d called after her a couple of times, asking her what she meant by‘what makes you think he stopped there?’She’d carried on regardless, deciding she’d fed me everything she was willing to.

And so, I remained at the bar. Miserable and Contemplating.

Magdalena said she was press. In what capacity, I’m not sure. I doubt she came to photograph the shrimp display. She strikes me more as the investigative type. Someone well-informed of current scandals that whisper their way through any given industry.

Someone with eyes and ears everywhere…

My hand comes over my mouth, because, no…no…there’s no way that she was hinting about the leak? About Drew…

“There you are,” Francis says, planting a hand on his hip. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” I twist all the wayaround on the stool to face him. His eyes widen. “Jesus, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. No wait, youlooklike a ghost, you should put some bronzing powder on or something.” He makes a sweeping gesture over his face.

“I’m fine, what’s up?”

His expression changes from judging to urgent. “I saw Kandi and Vandenberg together,” he says pouting. “And whatever they were talking about, it did not seem friendly. I’ll bet he’s figured out she’s the one behind the leak.”

My heart sinks, and I want to share what I suspect about Drew, but hearing this from Francis sends a surge of hope through my body. Maybe Magdalena wasn’t talking about the leak, maybe she meant something different entirely…

“I think I saw them heading upstairs.” He taps his foot, gesturing to the door.

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