Meet Scarlett Striker, a bold and quirky journalist for the Seattle Times. She's fun, confident, sassy, and just the right amount of weird. Scarlett is determined to rise to the top, no matter what it takes.
When her boss offers a golden opportunity...
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Scarlett walks into the bedroom where I'm busy packing up my things, sorting through clothes and shoes. The lease for my new apartment just came through, so I'm moving out at the end of the month. A bittersweet feeling settles in my chest... it's exciting but also a little sad to leave behind the place where I've shared so many memories with Scarlett.
"How was work?" I ask, glancing over my shoulder as she plops down onto the bed with a dramatic huff.
"Same old, same old," she sighs, throwing an arm over her face as if she's just returned from running a marathon. I pause, raising an eyebrow. Scarlett isn't usually this melodramatic about work unless something's really gotten under her skin.
"Uh-huh," I say, drawing out the words. "Are we talking regular work 'same old,' or is this a 'James is being a complete ass' kind of day?"
She peeks out from under her arm, her lips twitching like she's trying to hold back a smirk but failing miserably. "It might be a little bit of column A, a lot of column B."
I knew it. I turn back to my suitcase, folding another sweater with a grin. "You wanna talk about it or just keep dramatically flopping onto the bed?"
Scarlett groans, rolling onto her stomach and burying her face in the pillows. "Ugh, why is he like this? One minute he's aloof and far away from me, and the next he's showing up and impossible to deal with." Her voice is muffled by the pillows, but I catch every word.
"Sounds like James," I say, chuckling. "Care to share details, or do I need to pull it out of you?"
She lets out a muffled scream into the pillows before turning her head to look at me, her eyes narrowed. "He had the nerve to show up at my work, as if I'm just some casual fling he can 'check on' whenever he feels like it. Like, excuse me, sir, but I'm not one of your charity cases."
I stifle a laugh, sitting down beside her on the bed. "So what did you do?"
Scarlett lifts her head again, her eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint. "Oh, you know, I told him to screw off. Politely, of course."
I raise both eyebrows this time. "Politely?"
She flashes me a grin. "Okay, maybe not that politely. But seriously, why does he think he can just pop into my life whenever he wants? It's infuriating."
