Fireworks 1 and 2

Jungle: Chapter Eight

    The minute they were outside of the door to the studio, Drake whipped his cell phone out and dialed Oliver. He gave his longtime friend and trusted advisor a run down of the interview while waiting for the elevator to reach their floor. By the time the elevator doors slid open, the call was over.

    They stepped inside of the elevator and he pressed the button for the ground floor.

    Mia stood beside him with her eyes raised, watching the circles above the elevator doors light up.

    "Everyone is always in such a mad rush to start drama," he said, sounding agitated.

    "She's a part of the media," Mia said, her voice devoid of any emotion. "It's her job to get ratings. Keep people listening, keep them interested. You can't control what she asks you, even when you think you can. All you can control is how you respond."

    "You're wiser than me when I first broke into the industry," he complimented.

    "You can't let people like her get you worked up," she told him, still staring at the glowing dots at the top of the elevator. "It's her job to get you worked up. They want you to get worked up so they can talk about how quickly you fly off the handle."

    "It shouldn't piss me off, not with how long I've been in the industry. But it does. It pisses me off. If you're given specific instructions, you should follow them. Plain and simple." He stared down at his phone. "I doubt I'll interview with them ever again. Not after that."

    She lowered her eyes. The elevator was nearing the ground floor. "So... Vanessa?" she asked, sneaking a peek at him.

    "I should have told you that I ran into her at the Kanye concert," he said, not looking her directly in the eyes.

    The elevator chimed and the doors slid open.

    Mia removed her sunglasses from her jeans pockets, nodding as she slid them over her eyes. "Yeah, Aubrey. Yeah, you should have." She left him standing in the elevator.