Games Divas Play (A Diva Mystery Novel) (7 page)

And today’s outfit had been one of my favorites. It was a little dressy for a regular day, but I was having drinks with Vanessa after work. The navy Zac Posen high-waisted skirt with an oversize brushed silver zipper running down the front hugged my full hips and skipped across the top of my knees, making my five-foot-eight frame look long and lean. The matching navy-and-black silk T-shirt with a netting of flowers on the shoulder made it hip for the office. Black suede pumps and an armful of black crystal bangles completed my look. Urban elegan
ce indeed.

I spiked up my short cut and smoothed down the sides around my ears. I could feel it was almost time for a touch-up again. The jet-black color that my new stylist had recommended really worked with my deep brown skin tone. I hurriedly put on some clear MAC Lipglass before closing the cl
oset door.

I grabbed a file with the site traffic data and new marketing plans, and walked down the hallway to DeAnna’s office on the other side of the floor. The last editor to arrive was considered late
by DeAnna.

The entire floor was bustling with activity. There were three other new digital properties inhabiting the floor with
DivaDish
. The northwest corner housed
TheSportsBeatz
, run by gruff former TV reporter Rodney Reynolds; this section of the floor sometimes sounded like an actual locker room with a bull pen of loud wannabe jocks tossing story ideas and often footballs around all day. The other property,
GospelWired
, was headed by Michelle Miles, a holy rolling, sanctified sister who was always trying to bless me, share some scripture, or throw some holy water on me. I cut a quick left down the hall to DeAnna’s office to miss Michelle. The last thing I needed was Michelle getting that holy water in my hair today, because then she’d be meeting her Maker a lot sooner than she
intended.

Rodney and Michelle were barely civil when I came on board three months ago, so it was clear to me immediately that they considered me competition for resources and DeAnna’s approval. I knew they would be no help in helping me get the lay of the land. Now, a knife in the back? They’d be more than happy to oblige. It was every publication and website for themselves, which was fine with me. As my mom always told me, keep your friends close and your enemi
es closer.

I stopped at the cubicle in front of DeAnna’s glass office door. Her assistant, Joan, looked up at me from her computer screen over the tops of he
r glasses.

“DeAnna will be just a few minutes,” she said in her usual cli
pped tone.

“Thank you,” I said, and then took a seat in one of the upholstered chairs outside Joan’s cubicle. Sitting there always made me feel like I was waiting to see the
principal.

Michelle scurried down the long hallway, engrossed in reading her B
lackBerry.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw DeAnna’s office door open and heard a familiar and grating guffaw. It was Basil, my wandering fashi
on editor.

He backed out of DeAnna’s office and closed the door, never seeing me sitting outside Joan’
s cubicle.

What is my fashion editor doing talking t
o my boss?

“DeAnna’s ready for you now,” Joan said, interrupting my train of thought. She took off her headset and came around to lead us into DeAnna’s office as if we couldn’t find it for
ourselves.

As Michelle and I followed her into DeAnna’s office, I saw Rodney already seated on the sofa, and my antennae automaticall
y shot up.

Why are my fashion editor and Rodney meeting wit
h my boss?

I dashed off a quick t
ext to MJ.

Saw Basil and Rodney meeting with D . . .
What’s up?

He responde
d quickly.

On it . . .
Stand by.

I slipped my iPhone back into the pocket of my skirt, confident I’d have an answer on what sneaky little Basil was up to by the time I got out of thi
s meeting.

With panoramic views of Manhattan’s Central Park, DeAnna’s office made a statement. Swiveling around in her large black leather chair from behind a desk that looked like command central from the space shuttle, DeAnna picked up her large black leather portfolio and pen and then made her way over to where we we
re seated.

Her bob slicked back off her face and tucked behind her ears, DeAnna wore a crisp white blouse with a large puffy bow knotted to the side of her neck, a snakeskin black knee-length skirt, and bright cranberry platform booties. She took her customary seat in the large leather and chrome chair with her back to the window. Bryan Phillips, the unit’s finance director, slipped in quietly, carrying a sheaf of spreadsheets, and grabbed the other chair. Rodney and Michelle sat together on the sofa and put their papers and folders between them, clearly indicating that I wasn’t welcome to
join them.

What’s going on with these
two today?

Looking around awkwardly with nowhere to sit as if trapped in a bad game of musical chairs, I turned to ask Joan if she could bring in another chair, but she’d already slipped back out
the door.

“Just take a seat on the ottoman, Nia, so we can get started,” DeAnna said dis
missively.

I removed some large coffee-table books and a tray and set them on the floor before taking my seat facing both DeAnna and Bryan, with my back to Rodney and Michelle. I sat tentatively on the edge of the ottoman, balancing my folder on my lap as Bryan opened the meeting with his weekly financi
al report.

His flat monotone voice droned on as he moved through the traffic, revenue, and expense figures for each of the sites. For
DivaDish
and
GospelWired
, Bryan’s news was good. Traffic was up, revenue was climbing, and expenses were holding flat. But I heard Rodney shifting uncomfortably in his seat and shuffling some papers when Bryan got to his numbers, which were down across
the board.

“What’s going on with
TheSportsBeatz
, Rodney?” DeAnna said, turning an icy glance in the editor’s
direction.

“Well, as you know, DeAnna, there’s always a lull in our audience traffic right before the NBA season starts. But this weekend the new season starts, and we will have some really good stuff to post,
” he said.

“In fact,” he continued, sounding more excited than he should, given the numbers Bryan just shared, “we have story and video on Marcus King that’s sure to create a lot of heat for
the site.”

Oh
shit . . .

“What’s the story?” asked Michelle. I tried to turn around on the ottoman as best I could in my tight skirt to look at Rodney. I wanted to be looking him dead in his eyes when he said he stole
my story.

“As you know, we’ve just gotten video of Marcus King leaving a Midtown hotel with vixen Laila James.” Rodney sat back against the sofa, keeping his gaze locked on DeAnna and refusing to look at me burning a hole in the side of his head as I started to
speak up.

“But wait a minute, that’s
my . . .”

DeAnna cut me off, raising a manicured finger to let me know silence was
expected.

“That’s great, Rodney,” she said. “Why don’t you head back to your office and get that up ri
ght away?”

“But DeAnna . . . ,” I started again, blood rushing to my cheeks. I felt hot all over. I clutched my pen and tried to restrain myself from jabbing Rodney’s story-stealing neck wi
th my pen.

“Just a minute, Nia,” DeAnna said again with a wave of a glossy nail before she turned and told Bryan and Michelle that they could leav
e as well.

Rodney quickly gathered his things and left the office to go post my story on his struggling website before I could say anything, and Michelle slinked out the door b
ehind him.

DeAnna turned her attention to me after the door closed behind them. Her gaze was cool an
d distant.

“I think I know what you were going to
say, Nia.”

“You do?” I was confused. How could she know what I was goi
ng to say?

“Yes, Nia,” she said cryptically. “You were going to say that Rodney stole your stor
y, right?”

“Uh, yes, actually I was,” I said, looking at her quizzically. “How did
you know?”

“How I know isn’t relevant, Nia. What
is
relevant is that you had a story on superstar Marcus King that would have been a big traffic driver for your site, and you hesitated to put it up because you were worried about your friend Vanessa. The only thing that’s relevant in this conversation is why you h
esitated.”

Yes, Vanessa was my friend, but she was also DeAnna’s soror, which I thought meant something, but I guess I was mistaken. This woman was take-no-prisoners for real. Sorority bonds
be damned.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Yes, one of my reporters got a clip of Marcus King in a compromising position, and I was taking a moment to decide how we should proceed. That was
my video.”

“Well, in the hour it took you to decide how to proceed, a
DivaDish
competitor could have jumped on the story and taken the lead,” DeAnna said as she got up from her chair and walked over to her desk, sat down, and began scanning her e-mail in-box, indicating that she was wrapping up ou
r meeting.

“And actually that video is the property of PrimeTime Media. It’s not yours. So one of your internal competitors did what you were too afraid to do, and now they have
the lead.”

My phone began to buzz repeatedly in my pocket, and I knew it was MJ texting me with the news I now already knew. I’d later learn from MJ that Basil had overheard Che talking about the Marcus King exclusive in the office and had gone into the site’s story queue, seen the story waiting for my approval, and then forwarded a copy of the clip to DeAnna to cu
rry favor.

But how had Rodney gotten in the loop? There was no reason to think that Basil would go directly to Rodney, because then that Judas wouldn’t have been able to score points with DeAnna. No, this snake had gone directly to her, and then she had been the one to pull
in Rodney.

“I wasn’t aware I was competing internally,” I said as I gathered my papers and put them back into my folder. “But, believe me, DeAnna, I’m very clear now.” I wanted to add “bitch” on the end, but that probably wouldn’t have gone over
too well.

“The web moves fast, and it won’t wait for you to figure out your personal loyalties, Nia,” DeAnna said over her shoulder as I started to walk out of her office. “And neither will I. Close the door behind you
, please.”

I sank back into the warm leather seats of the town car, thankful that my new job came with the perk of a car service but not thankful for much else after that afternoon’s ambush in DeAnna
’s office.

What the hell
was that?

I’d never worked at a place where titles within a company would steal one another’s stories. And explaining to Che what had happened to her big exclusive had not been easy. Getting a story like the Marcus King video, however much I might loathe the idea of outing my best friend’s husband, would have been huge for her career. I did manage to appeal to what was left of Rodney’s journalistic ethics and get him to put her byline on the story and video on
TheSportsBeatz
site. And just as DeAnna had predicted, the story had taken off like wildfire that afternoon. Sites all over the web were linking and outright grabbing the video. The PR team had agreed to push Che to do the TV and radio interview requests that came pouring in. They were no dummies. Putting a young, pretty editor on the screen versus the curmudgeonly vet Rodney was a n
o-brainer.

As I was leaving the office, I saw Che getting her makeup done for an interview with
Access Hollywood
. Getting the byline and doing the on-air interviews seemed to have smoothed things over with her and shut down her initial threat
s to quit.

But I was more worried abou
t Vanessa.

While she tended not to troll the Internet to read gossip blogs, she was still sure to have heard the news or seen the video. This was big news not only with urban sites, but the mainstream media had jumped on the story as well. I was actually surprised that Vanessa still wanted to get together, but perhaps she neede
d to talk.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell her that my reporter had gotten the video. What could I say to her? And what was I going to say about the ongoing coverage that was bound to jump into high gear now that Marcus had essentially been confirmed as having an affair with the Golde
n Goddess?