coat.’
*
In retrospect, drinking copious amounts of beer followed by several shots of tequila had not been the greatest idea in the world. Oily nausea was roiling in the pit of her stomach and her head was throbbing mercilessly. She closed her eyes and sucked in several slow breaths, attempting to bring herself back to some kind of hangover-less equilibrium. It didn’t work. Yuri hadn’t even thought to bring any breath mints with her. Considering she was one stomach lurch away from sprinting to the restroom to throw up the remainder of what was left from last night’s ill-advised kebab, it would have been a smart move to plan more in advance. But when Don had called her at eight in the morning to cheerfully burble about how Oz and his entourage had agreed to meet her that very morning, she’d barely managed little more than to pull herself into a cold shower and put on some clothes. She wasn’t even entirely sure the clothes were clean, but whenever she twisted her head to attempt a surreptitious sniff, her head swam unpleasantly.
Maybe vomiting would be a good idea. It might settle her stomach and then she could breathe all over Oz and whoever else happened to be in the room and knock them out in one fell swoop. Then she could make her escape. She might have to spend the rest of her life on the run from his legions of fans for killing him with morning breath - but it would be worth it. Yuri frowned. Of course it was entirely possible that her nausea had less to do with her hangover and everything to do with her now almost debilitating fear at seeing Oz again.
Yuri twisted her hands in her lap. She could call Don. Tell him that she wasn’t ready for such a big assignment after all. It would probably set her career back by about five years but it might be worth it. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Or she could phone Cam. He owed her a few favours. This was only an initial pre-meeting after all. Cam could take her place and give her a little breathing space to decide what to do next. She stood up on rather shaky legs and made a decision. It was doubtful that anyone from the recording company would notice a switch in journalists. They’d be too concerned with making sure Oz was presented as the shining hero of chart-topping hits than caring about who was actually doing the presenting. It was for the best. It was bad enough having to take on Oz when she was at her best. With a raging hangover, it would be impossible.
She dug into her bag and pulled out her phone, finding Cam’s number quickly. Her thumb was just poised to press call when she realised there was someone standing in front of her.
‘Ms. Tateno?’
Shit. Too late. She forced a smile onto her face.
‘Hi,’ she said weakly.
The man thrust out his hand. ‘It’s good to meet you.’ He peered at her. ‘Are you alright? You look a little…green.’
‘I’m fine,’ Yuri responded, ignoring the lurch her stomach gave and forcing on a mask of professionalism as she shook his hand. ‘And you are?’
‘Oh, my name is Dirk Duke. I act as Oz’s agent.’ He had an odd inflection to his voice and spoke with an unusual degree of formality that belied the fact his named sounded as if belonged to a porn star. ‘Oz is running late so it’s probably best if we get started. I am sure he will be along shortly.’
Great, thought Yuri sourly. ‘I can’t wait.’ She hoped she sounded considerably more enthusiastic than she felt.
She followed him through a maze of lightly carpeted corridors to a glass fronted conference room. Other than a large oval table surrounded by at least twenty chairs, it was completely empty.
‘Are we expecting many people?’
Dirk Duke turned and looked at her quizzically and Yuri realised she’d mumbled her question. She repeated herself, trying to sound more firm and his face cleared.
‘Well,’ he said, ticking off his
*
In retrospect, drinking copious amounts of beer followed by several shots of tequila had not been the greatest idea in the world. Oily nausea was roiling in the pit of her stomach and her head was throbbing mercilessly. She closed her eyes and sucked in several slow breaths, attempting to bring herself back to some kind of hangover-less equilibrium. It didn’t work. Yuri hadn’t even thought to bring any breath mints with her. Considering she was one stomach lurch away from sprinting to the restroom to throw up the remainder of what was left from last night’s ill-advised kebab, it would have been a smart move to plan more in advance. But when Don had called her at eight in the morning to cheerfully burble about how Oz and his entourage had agreed to meet her that very morning, she’d barely managed little more than to pull herself into a cold shower and put on some clothes. She wasn’t even entirely sure the clothes were clean, but whenever she twisted her head to attempt a surreptitious sniff, her head swam unpleasantly.
Maybe vomiting would be a good idea. It might settle her stomach and then she could breathe all over Oz and whoever else happened to be in the room and knock them out in one fell swoop. Then she could make her escape. She might have to spend the rest of her life on the run from his legions of fans for killing him with morning breath - but it would be worth it. Yuri frowned. Of course it was entirely possible that her nausea had less to do with her hangover and everything to do with her now almost debilitating fear at seeing Oz again.
Yuri twisted her hands in her lap. She could call Don. Tell him that she wasn’t ready for such a big assignment after all. It would probably set her career back by about five years but it might be worth it. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Or she could phone Cam. He owed her a few favours. This was only an initial pre-meeting after all. Cam could take her place and give her a little breathing space to decide what to do next. She stood up on rather shaky legs and made a decision. It was doubtful that anyone from the recording company would notice a switch in journalists. They’d be too concerned with making sure Oz was presented as the shining hero of chart-topping hits than caring about who was actually doing the presenting. It was for the best. It was bad enough having to take on Oz when she was at her best. With a raging hangover, it would be impossible.
She dug into her bag and pulled out her phone, finding Cam’s number quickly. Her thumb was just poised to press call when she realised there was someone standing in front of her.
‘Ms. Tateno?’
Shit. Too late. She forced a smile onto her face.
‘Hi,’ she said weakly.
The man thrust out his hand. ‘It’s good to meet you.’ He peered at her. ‘Are you alright? You look a little…green.’
‘I’m fine,’ Yuri responded, ignoring the lurch her stomach gave and forcing on a mask of professionalism as she shook his hand. ‘And you are?’
‘Oh, my name is Dirk Duke. I act as Oz’s agent.’ He had an odd inflection to his voice and spoke with an unusual degree of formality that belied the fact his named sounded as if belonged to a porn star. ‘Oz is running late so it’s probably best if we get started. I am sure he will be along shortly.’
Great, thought Yuri sourly. ‘I can’t wait.’ She hoped she sounded considerably more enthusiastic than she felt.
She followed him through a maze of lightly carpeted corridors to a glass fronted conference room. Other than a large oval table surrounded by at least twenty chairs, it was completely empty.
‘Are we expecting many people?’
Dirk Duke turned and looked at her quizzically and Yuri realised she’d mumbled her question. She repeated herself, trying to sound more firm and his face cleared.
‘Well,’ he said, ticking off his
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