Blank Space

3

The next morning, Karlie finds Sean sitting wearily at his desk with his feet resting on a pile of unorganised files.

"What are you doing?" she hisses, dumping his cappuccino on top of a folded newspaper. "Mr Kahn is going to flip out when he sees this mess!"

"Karlie, quite frankly, I couldn't give a crap." Sean says with his arms folded. "Today is the day when I lose my job and end up selling up to move out of New York back to Georgia with my mum where I'll spend the rest of my life watching Jerry Springer with a bucket of fried chicken every night."

Karlie grits her teeth and leans right into the journalist's face. "Mr O'Pry, I don't know who you think you're talking to, but let me tell you: I am sick and tired of watching lazy good-for-nothing college grads like you bum your way here to New York wide-eyed with your head full of American-Dream nonsense only to throw in the towel when you get bored. Wasters like you have stood in the way of aspiring journalists who can't afford the education or, like me, were born into the 'wrong' gender."

Sean quickly retracts his feet from the desk and unfolds his arms. "I-I'm sorry Karlie."

"So you should be." she retorts. "Now get off your ass and start getting your shit together. Mr Kahn will see you at 12."

Her heels click rapidly across the floor as she storms out of the office. Sean guiltily begins to sort through the countless files piled up on his desk when the phone suddenly rings. He snatches it from the holder and adopts a professional tone.

"Hello, New York Times, Sean O'Pry speaking."

"Mr O'Pry?" a voice croaks on the other end. "I'd like to meet with you as soon as possible."

"Of course." Sean reaches for a pen and a notepad. "I can arrange a meeting with you any time after 1PM this afternoon."

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary." the voice replies. "I must speak with you in private."

Sean hesitates. "Could I ask your name?"

"Just call me Gomez. Meet me at 1PM in the coffee shop on West Street. I look forward to meeting you."

The phone hangs up. Sean ponders the caller's identity as he continues to dig through his workload.

***

At 1PM, Sean leaves the office on the premise of a lunch break. He had succeeded in tidying the office just in time for Mr Kahn's arrival. Mr Kahn brought him news of a possible transfer from the New York Times to one of the smaller media outlets downtown. This did not deter Sean, as it was much preferred to a redundancy. Yet a transfer would undoubtedly mean saying goodbye to his assistant. Perhaps Karlie would even take his place at the office?

The coffee shop is a very vintage-style cafe filled with hipsters and tourists which Sean despises. They arrive with their Polaroid cameras hanging from their necks by a leather strap, poised to take blurred photos of the red leather seats and retro jukeboxes, before switching to their iPhones to Instagram a pic of their murky-brown fair-trade coffee.

Sean seats himself on a leather barstool and orders a simple latte. It isn't long before a woman with jet black hair and shades to match joins him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr O'Pry." she says in a husky voice. "My name is Gomez, but you may call me Selena."

"You were the one on the phone?" Sean says confused. "I'm sure I recognise you from somewhere..."

"I believe we had a brief encounter from your bedroom window." Selena says offhandedly. "I did a little background research on you before I arranged our meeting."

"How do you know who I am?"

"You assistant Ms Kloss contacted me late last night. Said she had a friend who needed a little help on his investigation."

"What investigation?" Sean frowns.

Selena lowers her voice to a hushed tone. "The Taylor Swift investigation of course! Or have I got the wrong guy?"

"It depends." Sean sips his coffee casually. "What can you tell me about Taylor Swift that I don't already know?"

Selena chuckles. "What I don't know about Taylor Swift isn't worth knowing. Now are you in, or not?"

Sean eyes the stranger sceptically. "This all seems very shady. How do I know you're not just a rumour-mill looking to leak lies to the press?"

Selena shakes her head. "If you don't trust me, then we can't work together. But I can promise you that if you work with me, I can land you the biggest story of the decade. You'll be bigger than the New York Times. They'll be making Hollywood movies out of this thing."

"And what do you get out of it?"

Selena's red-glossed lips form a wicked smirk. "Nothing would make me happier than watching Taylor Swift fall from the top. So I'll ask you again: are you in, or not?"

Sean offers his hand for a handshake. Selena grasps it, sealing the deal.

"So where do we start?" he asks, taking another sip of his latte.

"We need to get you inside Woolworth Mansion."

"And how do you plan to do that? Arrange an interview?"

"Oh no, you won't be going in as a journalist." Selena shakes her head with a snicker. "You're going to become Taylor Swift's new lover."