Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 42889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
“What happens if he gets mad about it? He could blacklist the Blaze,” I say. “Never give us anything.”
“It won’t matter if we’ve got a great story about him,” Devin says, sounding darkly thrilled in a way that sort of creeps me out. “Touch base with me after you’ve talked to him again. Most of the football players go to Reign on game nights. Do you think you can be there in an hour?”
I sigh. What am I supposed to say? You don’t just cross your editor, especially not when you’re desperately trying to show your parents that this could be a lifelong career and a reason to change majors, even though they disapprove of the idea one thousand percent.
“Sure.” My voice is meek and flat, but Devin doesn’t seem to notice.
He’s already planning how to turn this crappy little article into something major, something to put both of our names on the map.
And I don’t have the guts to put a stop to any of it.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m standing outside of Reign with my two suitemates, Arianna and Jess, who thank god were willing to come with me rather than hit up their favorite bars tonight. Reign is a bar in the center of the downtown strip, the kind of place that I’ve never even tried to get in to— it’s more or less reserved exclusively for cheerleaders, future lingerie models, and guys who date cheerleaders and future lingerie models.
Arianna is a thousand times better dressed than me, so I borrowed a little black romper and paired them with the tallest heels I own.
“I can’t believe you’re going to Reign,” Jess says, shaking her head at me as we get in the long line at the door.
“I can’t believe she’s going out, period,” Arianna says, grinning. “But damn, Astrid, you clean up nice in my clothes. You should wear this sort of thing more often.”
“Just don’t let me drink too much, okay? I’m a lightweight,” I say, wringing my hands.
Arianna rolls her eyes. “Calm down. It’s just a bar.”
“A bar full of wolves and jackals,” I mutter, picturing the kinds of men who frequent this place.
Jess knocks me with her elbow playfully. “Seriously, Astrid. Chill. You look great, and you’re going to have a good time. Just do me a favor— can you not talk to Carson Slate for like, an hour or two? Because I don’t want to get in just to be thrown out ten minutes later.”
I told them about my mission here— though I didn’t fill them in on all the humiliating details of the locker room. They are totally aware, though, that there’s a good chance I’m going to infuriate Carson Slate in the name of a story. Given that the football team practically owns this place, there’s no way we’ll be allowed to stay once that happens. I try to tug the legs on the romper down a little bit, as nervous about how short it is as I am about going into this particular bar.
We inch closer and closer to the bouncers while football players— some of whom I think I recognize from the locker room— breeze past the bouncers without even slowing down. The bouncers let a few cheerleaders in, then pluck a few particularly beautiful girls out of the line to allow them in the door. I’d be freaking out if it weren’t for Arianna and Jess— they’re totally calm. They know the drill, I guess. Finally, we’re at the front of the line. Arianna flashes the bouncer a bright white smile, then links her arms with mine and Jess, making it clear that we need to be let in as a threesome. He sighs, but waves us all through.
Thank God, the first part of the mission was a success.
I have to admit, I was worried they might let in my roommates but keep me out. I’m nothing special in the looks department, and this place is known for its high standards.
It was loud outside of Reign, but inside, the music is almost deafening. The bar is sleek and has royalty-themed decor, with gold lions painted on the wall and faux-gilded mirrors on the ceiling. There are chairs and recessed bottle-service areas that are decked out with purple upholstery and chandeliers that I suspect look tacky in the daylight, but expensive in the dim.
“Where to?” Arianna shouts to be heard over the music.
“I have no idea. Your call,” I shout back, scanning the room for Carson. I don’t see him anywhere, but then again, it’s hard to really make out faces in the many darkened corners of the room. Arianna shrugs at Jess, and the three of us head to the bar to order a round of drinks. I sacrifice my credit card for the tab— after all, my suite-mates are here as a favor to me. We sidle away from the bar and sway to the music absently, sipping on our drinks, Arianna and Jess chatting while I keep my eyes peeled for any sign of Carson.