Page 267 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Yeah. So, apparently, the article was bothering me a little more than I wanted to believe. But this was good. I could talk to her really quick, get all of my gripes off of my chest, and then get on with my night and my job.

“That’s me. Who’s this?”

“It’s Scott.”

“Scott who?”

Scott who? Was she serious?

“Scott Shepard. You’ve called me before. Don’t you have my number saved in your phone?”

“Ohh. That Scott. Sorry, I know a couple, and I didn’t bother to look at the caller ID when you called.”

I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. “Who in the hell doesn’t look to see who it is when someone calls?”

“Sometimes, I don’t. Is that all you needed?”

“Is that all I needed?” I nearly roared. What an irritating woman. “I didn’t know about your fucking loony tunes habit before my call, so, no, that’s not the reason for my fucking call.”

“Oh-kay.” She was completely nonplussed. “So, what’s the reason?”

Clenching my fists as tight as I could manage without causing serious injury, I worked to steady my words. “The article.”

“What article?”

Oh my God. I was going to strangle a woman for the first time in my life. In fact, I’d never even considered it before now. But for Harlow Paige, I was willing to get dressed, take a cab, climb whatever fucking flights of stairs I had to, and bang on her door in order to do it.

“You know what article.”

“Is it about you?”

“Of course it’s about me!” My voice felt scratchy as Beverly came to a sliding stop around the corner. I waved her off with a wildly gesticulating arm.

“Well, geez. I didn’t know. Maybe you really love Sia, and you’re mad about the piece I did on her hair. What do I know?”

I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath. “Harlow.”

“Okay, fine. Which article about you?”

“Harlow!”

“Well, there are two. Be realistic here. I’m not a mind reader!”

“I talked to you. I cooperated. I gave you plenty of juicy, true material to use for those photos. And yet, I read the fucking article, and not one word of it was what I actually told you.”

“I had another inside source.”

“One better than me?”

“Yes, if you must know. You’re biased.”

“I’m biased,” I repeated.

“Yep. You like to sugarcoat things about yourself, obviously. So I had to talk to another inside source.”

“And that person would be?”

“I can’t tell you that. But if I get permission from them, I will.” She paused and I sighed, deep and beleaguered.