bimbosminder:
“ Nicolette really should be working on her article. Long-form journalism was a lot of work, and she was a stickler for perfection. She liked taking on the rich and powerful, and when you did that, you had to make sure that you could...

bimbosminder:

Nicolette really should be working on her article.  Long-form journalism was a lot of work, and she was a stickler for perfection. She liked taking on the rich and powerful, and when you did that, you had to make sure that you could defend every sentence, every jot and tittle of the piece.

Her current piece, a profile of a man at the center of a vortex of money, power, politics, and corruption was right up her alley.  Despite herself, she found that the subject of the piece was a compelling figure.  In all truth, she liked him.  Maybe not his politics or the company he keeps or the company he runs, but as a person, as a guy he was alright. 

As a matter of courtesy, she always let the subject of her pieces get an advance copy, just so they know what was going to be coming. Just the final copy, the one that was going to be running in the magazine.  For Mr. Howell, she went just a little bit farther, or something.  One of her drafts got onto his desk. One of her researchers must have screwed up or something. It was a screw-up, that’s for sure.  He read it and wanted to be able “expand and refine” a few of his remarks. She was willing to have another interview to try to explain what he had said, but she wasn’t going to just act like what he had said before didn’t happen.

Nicolette told him that much on the phone.  He still wanted the interview. So, she went to his office.  His secretary told her to wait, that he was in a meeting that ran long.  She should have walked out right then. This was a favor for him. But she sat down and looked at the magazines laid out.  No copies of the magazines she worked for, and she didn’t really want to read her competitors.  There was a gossip magazine, it wasn’t People or USWeekly so she didn’t recognize it, but she could waste some time. 

There was something wrong with the typeface.  It was… blurry.  Made it hard to read.  It made Nicolette’s head hurt.  After… like fifteen minutes of waiting, she needed to stop with the magazine. She got up and told the secretary that she was going to use the little girl’s room.  The secretary nodded and handed her a package.  “He’ll want you to be wearing this.“  Nicolette nodded, vaguely. 

She went into the bathroom and started changing her clothes.  It started coming back to her.  She didn’t work at a magazine; there was no magazine. She worked at a high end brothel, an escort agency.  The Agency, whatever that was, found her in journalism school. Every "interviewee” was just some horny john. It came back to her, and yet… she didn’t care. Her day-job might have been make-believe, but 75% of the time, she felt like she was doing something important, and the other 25%, she got to have so much fun.

“Mr. Schwartz? I’m here for our interview,” she giggled.

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