TweetyGram

17 - #ScaryTreadmillDance

It had been a week since I'd seen Jake. The last I heard from him was a text last Thursday postponing the dinner. He claimed his grandma couldn't leave Boston because one of her cats was hospitalized, but I wasn't sure if he was telling the truth.

Maybe he just didn't want me to be his fake girlfriend anymore.

Disappointment lodged in my chest like a rock. Totally and utterly insane, but I couldn't make it go away. What is wrong with me?

"Miss Darling." Mr. Grant's voice snapped me from my thoughts. The middle-aged man stood in front of my desk with his glasses sitting low on his nose, peering down at me as if I'd stolen his parking spot. "Where are we with the Bling Bling article?"

I sat straight up. "Doing it as we speak, sir."

"Try to get it on my desk before lunch."

"Yes, sir."

I was never one to get intimidated easily. Yet, as Mr. Grant turned around and strode into his office, I released a tense breath.

I'd been working at the L.A. Gazette for three weeks, but all Mr. Grant had told me to do was copy-edit and fact-check other writers' articles. I should've expected it, considering I was just an intern. Still, I began to wonder if I really stood a chance of getting hired as a full-time writer. Especially seeing how Mr. Grant assigned Wyatt to do the research for his upcoming Jim Pansy article, essentially appointing my competitor as his assistant.

Heaving out a sigh, I picked up my red pen and continued reading the Bling Bling article.

The police finally arrested the group of burglars after they got caught on one of the victims' surveillance cameras. Prior to their arrest, the Bling Bling had broken into over twenty celebrity houses, including the TweetyMansion, and amassed over 4 million dollars of stolen goods. The article included an image of the infamous group captured by the victim's surveillance camera and the fivesome's mugshots.

According to the ringleader, they burglarized celebrity homes because they were fascinated by their lifestyle.

'They look so good on TweetyGram, and we want what they wear,' the 18-year-old girl stated. 'It's not that we can't afford to buy those stuffs ourselves. We have a closet full of Crestienne Lerouxes. It's just so much more special if they've worn it.'

'We're obsessed,' another member of the group, also an 18-year-old girl, added. 'Cher Quinn is, like, my fashionspo. I want what she's worn.'

My head pounded as I read the quotes. Charity was going to have a field day reading them.

"Psst. Psst."

I looked over my shoulder at Fiona's desk.

"How's your Malibu Wolf investigation going?" Fiona whispered.

I swiveled my chair to face her. "I've been trying to lure them out, but no luck so far."

"Oh." She lowered her gaze, worry lines creasing her forehead.

"What's wrong?"

"My second cousin once removed got wolved by the Malibu Wolf last week, and worse, it wasn't just her."

An alarm blared in my head. "What?"

"The Wolf claimed Natalie was having a special meet-and-greet in Chicago, where my cousin lives, and they told her she could bring her friends with her. She convinced ten of her classmates to join her for the event, and now she's branded a liar and an idiot, and they demand she pay them their money back."

Sympathy rushed through me. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

She heaved out a frustrated breath. "When she called me and said she was DMed by the real Natalie Winters, I told her it must've been the Malibu Wolf. But she didn't believe me. She even called me jealous and blocked my number." She let out another heavy sigh. "I should've tried harder to convince her."