Page 121 of The Golden Scoop

I’ll admit, the anger’s been building. But it’s sharp, focused. Keeping me from falling apart. The kind you wish you had mid-argument, when your brain goes offline and you can’t think of any good comebacks. Well… I’ve got all the comebacks this time.

The walk through the office does the rest. Kate gives me a thumbs up from her vantage point behind the printer. Martha flips through last week’s issue like she’s completely unbothered. All while turning my life upside down.

I don’t knock on the door. Her head snaps up, eyes locking on mine. She leans back, holding her pencil between her fingers as if it were a cigarette.

“Emma,” Martha says, with a plastic smile. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Good. I bet she has.

“After what you pulled yesterday,” I scoff, “you should be surprised I showed up at all.”

She narrows her eyes. We both know I don’t go down without a fight. It’s why she played this the way she did.

“I thought you needed a little… how should I put it?” Martha taps the pencil against her lips. “Encouragement. Guidance, maybe.”

“Encouragement?”

“You were getting too comfortable,” she says, eyes dropping back to the magazine. “Too soft. We can’t have that from a gossip columnist.”

This is unbelievable. I don’t know what I thought was going to happen when I came in here, but it certainly wasn’t this. Not someone this high up being so blunt about the kind of work she delivers to her readers.

“Right,” I spit. “Except… this wasn’t for the column, was it?”

“Oh, darling. Why do you think I picked you if not for the fact that you know your way around those movie stars?”

I turn around to compose myself. Kate’s gaze meets mine through the glass. She gives me a small, encouraging nod.

“You got this,” she mouths.

Count to three. Deep breath. I got this.

“You leaked something I didn’t write.”

“I had to move things along,” she says, like it’s nothing. “Did you expect me to sit on a feature this big until you decide to turn it into something decent?”

“I expected you not to lie,” I growl. “Not only that, but you made it look like it came from me.”

“I didn’t lie. My employee, Emma Miller, is the journalist assigned to that article. Deliver what the headline promised, and there will be no deception.”

Martha’s got to be pulling my leg. Because⁠—

“What about the actual article, Martha?” I snap. “That headline is not what happened. Writing anything else means sacrificing the integrity we’re supposed to have as journalists.”

“You’re always so strict on yourself, Emma. It’s about time you start softening those edges,” she says, like she’s offering advice. “It’s why you’ve been stuck for so long. And why it will stay that way, unless you deliver what I asked for.”

My body stills at her ultimatum. I never put this past her but hearing her say it makes me understand that this article was never a steppingstone in my career. It was a test.

Martha wanted to see if I was finally going to fit into her mold, if I would twist and turn a story for her. For years I thought as long as I stuck to the truth I’d be okay, but it turns out I was just lucky. I skimmed the surface. If I’d have dug deeper like I did with Matt, I’m sure I would’ve found most of them were not that bad.

“What happens if I don’t, huh?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest. “If I turn in the same draft again?”

“Then I’ll find someone else willing to take it on.”

“Someone willing to lie?”

“No, Emma. Someone willing to succeed.” Martha shrugs. “Why do you even care so much? Matt Hunt is the most manufactured man in Hollywood. Shallow. No different from the rest. I’m sure he played a perfect role while you were around. Got you eating right out of his hand.”

This is exactly what fake press does. Makes us forget these people are someone’s kids. That they feel things. They struggle, just like the rest of us.