Free A Love of My Own by E. Lynn Harris

photos have run yet, so it would be major a coup for
Bling,
” I said.
    â€œI don’t think we can get any photos,” Kirsten said. I guess she had forgotten how she boasted about being so tight with Halle’s publicist that she could get anything out of them she wanted.
    â€œDo you think we can talk to Eric’s daughter about what a great mother Halle is?”
    Kirsten rolled her eyes and looked at me like I had called her a bad name and said, “I don’t talk to children.”
    â€œWhat about some of the people Halle went to high school with? I mean, if we could talk to the girl she had to share the title of prom queen with, well, that would be just priceless,” I said.
    â€œHow am I going to do that?” Kirsten asked as she motioned for the waiter. Before I answered, the waiter came over and Kirsten ordered another drink, but this time she requested a double.
    I wanted to tell her it was called reporting, but all I could think about was the beautiful and talented Halle Berry gracing my cover with Kirsten’s name running across some amazing outfit Halle would wear for the photo shoot.
    â€œWhat about some of her ex-boyfriends?” I suggested.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI just think the story needs some more quotes. A little more depth,” I said cautiously.
    â€œMore depth? I thought you said you liked the story,” she said, her voice edged with surprise.
    â€œOh, I do. I just think it could be stronger.”
    â€œI don’t know about that. Besides, my schedule is tight. I don’t know when I can get around to it,” Kirsten said. I could tell she wasn’t exactly feeling good about me right about now.
    â€œWhat if I got someone from my staff to help out?”
    â€œI don’t work well with other people. That’s why I freelance.”
    â€œOh, I understand, but I was just thinking of maybe getting a researcher who could find some of the people I think would make the story stronger and then have you do the interview,” I said.
    â€œI hope you don’t expect me to be going to Cleveland or some-
place like that. I really don’t like traveling to small towns. Let’s order.”
    â€œOkay,” I said, hoping maybe a meal might soak up some of the vodka Kirsten had gulped down and suddenly make her more reasonable. I didn’t really know what the next step should be. I was already paying her four dollars a word, which was going to really put a dent in my budget for future projects. I justified paying her the large amount of money because of the additional revenue the issue would bring in. I decided that I should maybe change the subject from Halle and the rewrite and talk about something a little more pleasant.
    â€œDid you get the invitation to the dinner party for some of our advertisers and top writers?”
    â€œOh, yeah. I’m really looking forward to it. I’ve got my dress narrowed down to three,” Kirsten said.
    â€œI know you’ll look beautiful,” I said.
    â€œWell, you know I won’t come in there half stepping. You never know when Mr. Right Now might show up,” Kirsten said, laughing.
    The waiter placed our entrées down, and I was relieved I no longer had to make small talk. A dull silence covered our corner of the large dining room, broken when Kirsten ordered a glass of Merlot. I figured I would just rewrite the story my damn self.

8
__________________
    I had been in New York over a month before I made the phone call I knew I would eventually make, dialing the digits of John Basil Henderson. He was a man I had a love/I-think-you’re-out-of-your-mind relationship with. Basil was a super-sexy gray-eyed ex-professional football player I’d had flings with at different times in my life. I called him a friend, although we rarely saw eye to eye on anything. Still, there was something about the sexy Mr. Henderson that maintained my curiosity, and I knew the feelings