True to her word, George dropped me off at Glamour the next morning. Of course, I was wearing the same clothes and moving rather gingerly, which led to Tabs greeting me with: “Oh, you dirty stop-out.”
So I shot her my best and sassiest look. “Very dirty.”
And then limped sassily to my desk. I could already tell sitting down and me were not going to be friends today, but I booted up my computer and got stuck into polishing up a feature about the best diamonds to wear with leather. Mainly because I didn’t want to deal with the fact I’d accidentally volunteered for or been tasked with a piece on beard gadgets.
I was on my third Diet Coke when my phone rang. This usually meant the caller had dialled my number by accident while trying to get someone more important.
“Niel Thompson.”
“Hello,
