“Ari… I’m worried.” Gina sighs and cups my hand between both of hers. “You’re playing tag with tigers, babe. Very cute stripes. Very sharp teeth.”
“It’s not that bad,” I protest.
“No, you’re right,” she agrees. “It’s worse. Tell me something: When’s the last time you filed a real story?”
“It’s not my fault John keeps assigning me puff pieces!”
“It is your fault that you stopped asking for hard leads, though.” Gina tenderly brushes a lock of hair that’s escaped from my bun. “I just hate to see you losing yourself to something you swore you never wanted in the first place. I’m happy you’re happy, I am. I just… I just want to know that you know what you’re doing.”
Yeah f*****g right. I haven’t known what I’m doing since the beginning. Run, kicking and screaming; bite and claw if necessar
