Page 1 of Beautiful Distraction

PROLOGUE

“Ava, where are you?”

I grimace, not in the least surprised by the high pitch ofmy coworker ‘s voice. Carol Evans is at her wit’s end, and I can’t blame her.Being the assistant to the editor-in-chief is one shit-ass job. Tanya Bollok,TB, or The Bitch, as we like to call her at work, is the devil incarnated. Becauseof her endless demands, impossible requests for perfection, and mile-highexpectations that would kill anyone’s private life, everyone fears her.

I scowl. “Obviously not at the office.”

“No shit.” I can sense the obligatory roll of her eyes. “Ialready know that because I looked for you everywhere.”

“You have? Is this about my article?” I wince at the phone andhasten my steps. “Look, I’ll have it done by Monday. TB won’t even notice.”

“Trust me, she will. I need it by midnight.”

I let out a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

The dead silence on the other end confirms the worst.

We have a tight deadline. I get it. But the print run isMonday two a.m. No article needs to hit the editor-in-chief’s desk beforeSunday night.

Try to explain that to TB.

God forbid you actually try to have a life or friendsoutside of the office.

And God forbid you leave said office as early as six p.m. ona Friday night, which is what I’ve done for the first time in my career, andnow it comes back to bite me.

I don’t know why I let my best friend Mandy talk me intodriving her to Club 69 on a Friday evening, but as usual, after a five-minutetirade about how she was too late to call for a taxi and she had to be at workthat instant, I caved in and took theone-hour drive upon me to help her out.

I shouldn’t have. Because now I’m going to be in a shitloadof trouble with my boss.

I groan again. “TB won’t even be back until Sunday.”

“So we all thought,” Carol says. “She took an early flight.I expect her back within the hour.”

“What?” I didn’t mean to shout. Several people turn theirheads to regard me. Waving my hand, I mouth, “I’m fine. Haven’t been mugged oranything,” and tune back to the conversation.

“You’re lucky I was here to intercept her call or else youwould’ve been the fifth she fired this month.”

“She can’t fire me.” Not in the least because I’m great atwhat I do, but TB has never been the reasonable type and I’m not one to take mychances. “Okay. I’m coming.” Cradling the phone between my shoulder blade andmy chin, I scurry to my car, fishing for the keys in my bag while guessing howlong it’ll take me to get back to the office. A glance at my watch tells me itwon’t be before ten p.m. Great. I’ll be spending another unpaid Friday nightstaring at a computer screen with TB breathing down my neck.

I open the car door and throw in my bag, suppressing theurge to remind Carol that everyone’s entitled to an evening off every once in awhile. But what would be the point in arguing with her when it’s not her fault?

“What if she arrives before you?” Carol asks.

“Tell her I’m sick.”

“I thought you said your grandmother died. That’s what Jaysaid you told him when you left early.”

I cringe. “Yeah, that too.”

“Ava, you can’t die twice.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning you already told the same lie last year, so keepyour lies straight.”

Actually, that was only a half-lie because Grandmawassick and TB wouldn’t let me fly homeuntil I came up with the dying part. Thank God, Grandma lived. But TB even hadme show her the hospital bill.

“Yeah. Remind me to make a list.” I let out a nervous laughas I’m rounding the car to get into the driver’s seat.

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