Alone again with my thoughts, I pulled out my phone and spent several agonizing minutes reading Amanda’s comment section. The “Truthslayer” was personally responding to some of her readers, whose feedback on her newest post ranged from smiley faces to “Amen” to several that were flat-out ridiculed by not only my reader but also my original advice.
Dejected, I slid my phone into my purse and waited for Gabby to return with my milkshake. The first few sips were painfully cold, but soon the blueberry goodness took over my senses, temporarily smothering all thoughts of the other advice column. Sighing, I glanced up at the television mounted over my booth. It was tuned to a Charlotte-based station, which was featuring a local success story.
“... Earned his fortune in the mobile gaming market, but Max Bradbury has expanded his reach in a way that has the Internet abuzz,” the reporter said from where she stood in front of a massive slate-colored building. “Just last year, Bradbury Enterprises unleashed Snark Junkies. Max Bradbury boasts that this entertainment and social networking website allows content providers the freedom to speak their mind.”
The logo for the website partly responsible for my blueberry milkshake binge flashed on the screen, and I gritted my teeth at the sight of the Snark Junkies dog—a smirking Siberian husky.
Dear God, Amanda Truthslayer was everywhere today.
Glaring at the reporter as she praised Bradbury and his company, I made a mental note of the address on the building behind her. I’d mentioned going to the website’s headquarters before, but Barb had shot down the idea. She’d told me to leave the confrontation to her lawyers, but they weren’t exactly doing a great job getting through to Bradbury. At this point, I couldn’t see things getting any worse, so what did I have to lose by going to see him in person about Amanda and her posts? And besides, the fact the TV was tuned to a story about Snark Junkies was a sign I couldn’t ignore.
Waving to catch Gabby’s attention, I motioned her over.
“Just a sec,” she mouthed. While I waited for her to come to my table, I built myself up about confronting Bradbury. Regardless of whether or not my complaints bothered him, if his “content provider” could speak her mind, so could I.
Stopping next to my booth, Gabby grinned. “Did you change your mind about the fried pickles?”
“Can I get the check, please?” I pointed to my shake. “And this in a to-go cup?” Glancing up at the Bradbury Enterprises employee being interviewed on screen, I stiffened my spine as she gushed about how awesome the company was. Yeah, awesome my ass. “I have an errand to run before I head back to the office.”
Chapter Two
When the receptionist informed me that Max was out of the office for the rest of the day, I refused to lose my confidence. Determined to meet the man behind the rude website face-to-face, I left my condo earlier than usual the next morning and returned to the corporate park that housed Bradbury Enterprises. After the doorman let me pass, I stood in the corner of the elevator, breathing unevenly as I counted the floors to Max Bradbury’s office.
One. Had I been this nervous yesterday? Two. Three. No, I hadn’t been, but what if he’s not here again? Or what if he just refuses to see me. Four. Not even twenty-four hours ago, the receptionist had looked at me like I was a shoe-in for the next Idiocracy movie when I had asked to see the CEO without an appointment. Five. If Barb found out I had visited Bradbury, she’d freak out. Six. Maybe, just maybe, I should take the elevator back down after it stopped.
I stared at my reflection in the gleaming doors. In spite of my professional exterior—a black pea coat over a crisp tucked-in blouse and pinstripe pencil skirt, black pumps, and my simple but effective auburn up-do—the confidence I’d shown yesterday wavered. My hazel eyes were unsure, nervous.
Seven.
Eight.
Clenching my hands into fists, I released a deflated breath as the doors shuddered open. I crept from the corner and hovered my finger over the first floor button to take me back to the lobby. Just before I pushed it, the bottle blond receptionist from yesterday afternoon glanced up from her cherry red, U-shaped desk, simpered at me, and then went back to her call.
You know what, screw leaving, I thought.
I forced myself into the lobby of the CEO’s personal suite—which was surprisingly bright and cheery considering the nature of his website. The bold shades of red, yellow, green, and blue reminded me of the candy-coated color scheme of one of Bradbury Enterprises’ oldest and most popular games—which, to my embarrassment, I had on my phone and found myself playing in moments of extreme boredom.
Stopping at the receptionist desk, I waited for her to finish her call, wringing my hands together so I wouldn’t gnaw anxiously on my nails. My focus drifted to the giant TV on the wall behind her. A trailer was playing, advertising the company’s newest mobile game—some epic fantasy that looked like a mishmash of World of Warcraft and Halo. A gun-toting elf pranced onto the screen, and I wrinkled my nose.
Geez, no wonder Bradbury had decided to launch the Snark Junkies website.
His games were ... well, his newest games looked just plain shitty.
“Hello,” the receptionist said loudly. Dragging my stare from the trailer, I took in her arched eyebrows and thinned lips. She tapped her fingernails on the glossy red surface of her desk. “Are you here to see Mr. Bradbury again?” I nodded, and she looked at her laptop screen before giving me a skeptical smile. “Do you actually have an appointment this time?”
“No, but I’m hoping that he can fit me in.” Ah, there it was. The look that told me she thought I was an idiot. I released a heavy sigh and tilted my head to look at the glass nameplate on her desk. “Look, Deana, my name is Avery Collins, and I work for a local paper. I just need to speak to him for five minutes. I have an issue that I need sorted out—I swear it won’t take long.”
Deana had stared at me for a few seconds before realization dawned and her eyes widened. “Ohhh, you’re that girl!” A grin the size of Texas spread across her face. I blinked. Did I even want to know what had been said about that girl—about me—in the Bradbury Enterprises offices? “Yes, I’m sure you would like to talk to him. I’ll see if he’s available.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
She typed something then closed her laptop. “You’re welcome to wait...” Her voice trailed off, but I followed her hand as she gestured to the adjoining waiting room.
“Great!” I replied with lackluster enthusiasm.
“Coffee and donuts are on the counter; feel free to help yourself,” she called after me. I barely made it into the next room before I heard Deana say in a hushed voice, “Caitlin? Stop flirting with the sexy mail guy and listen to this! You will never guess who just stepped off the elevator and asked to see—”
Ugh. Was she serious with that crap?
I skulked over to the counter and made a cup of coffee, reluctantly bypassing the glazed donuts that seemed to be pleading with me from their pink and white box. Sitting on one of the most uncomfortable seats I’ve ever sat on—seriously, a jagged rock would have been more enjoyable than the blue chair that looked like it was a prop from Star Trek—I rolled my eyes at the sight of the receptionist snickering into the phone.
“Did you see the one from the other day?” she whispered. “I about pissed myself at the mashed potatoes bit!”
Worst. Admin. Ever.
Ears burning, I glared at her darkly, but she must not have felt the radioactive heat from my eyes because she kept talking. About me. I sighed, took a sip of my coffee, and grabbed a magazine from the pile on the table beside my chair—the latest edition of Modern Gamer. I leafed through the magazine quickly, stopping every few pages if a beautifully illustrated game snagged my interest.