Free Remember When 2 by T. Torrest Page B

while making their article look as though they’ve scored the exclusive of the century.
       It was all rather uninspiring.
       Seeing as I had absolutely zero experience with the competitive nature of a press junket, I wasn’t much looking forward to fighting it out with the other seasoned writers in the room.
       So, even though I knew there was a good chance I’d be found out by Trip’s people anyhow and there was a definite chance I’d be reamed out by my editors, I took the shot.
       “One-on-one,” I managed to say.
       I placed my company card on the desk, refusing to worry about the consequences of the unauthorized charge. If I managed to pull off the interview, Devin would gladly go to bat for me on the expense report.
       Concierge Cat tapped away on her computer while I waited to be called out for my deception. But eventually, she simply slid a room key across the desk and told me to head on up to 4816 via the elevators located just off the main lobby.
       I played aloof as I signed the receipt and grabbed the keycard, casually strolled over to the alcove, and made my way into a private elevator.
       The second the doors closed, however, I started dancing; punching the air and cabbage-patching like a white girl. I hoped I wasn’t being monitored.
       But I had done it! I was going to turn my little sideline story assignment into a feature article! I was on my way to an exclusive, one-on-one sit-down with the fastest rising star in Hollywood. Chances were good that I’d be able to parlay the interview into a cover piece with photos and a full-length story. Maybe this would be a big turning point for my career.
       I was so busy daydreaming about my impending promotion to CEO of Howell House Publishing that I’d forgotten to flip out about the fact that I was going to find myself back in the same room as Trip in just a short while. He was probably only a few doors down from my suite at that very minute, getting ready to head into the conference room at the end of the hall.
       I slid my keycard into the lock box, opened the door, and was greeted with the sight of an exquisite space.
       The entrance opened into a large living room area, decorated in pale, neutral tones with dark wood furniture. There was a kitchenette and snack bar to my right, with cabinets done in the same dark wood, but the counters were cobalt, offering just the right splash of color. There was a table and chairs to my left and a sitting area directly ahead, set up in front of a large window. The curtains were pulled back, allowing a flood of natural light into the room, and I couldn’t resist its pull, drawing me to check out the view of Broadway far below.
       I wandered into the adjoining bedroom and walked through the huge, marble bath. The décor was the same soothing neutral, with a few added accents of blue to make it interesting.
       I settled myself into the beautiful, well-appointed living room and grabbed my bag. I dug out my cellular phone and put in a quick call to Trip’s publicist, letting her know my room number, and crossing my fingers while I heard her rustle through a sheaf of paper. I exhaled when she gave me the first appointment time following the junket for the half-hour between 12:30 and 1:00, only one short hour from then.
       I set up my recently acquired digital tape recorder on the coffee table and took a seat in one of the blue plush chairs next to it. I reminded myself not to fidget as I became aware of my growling stomach. I didn’t think I had enough time to order room service, and besides, I was already pushing the limits of my company card by being in a room in the first place. I thought that I sure could have gone for one of those complimentary doughnuts right about then. I rifled through my purse and managed to come up with a flattened and crumbled granola bar, which I scarfed down without any semblance of grace.
       I had to check my teeth in the bathroom mirror, so I