Treasure [h.s]

| 13 - Needy Puppy |

***
Secrets I have held in my heart
Are harder to hide than I thought
Maybe I just wanna be yours
I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours

Arctic Monkeys - I Wanna Be Yours
***

26 days. Today is Wednesday, a good day in the office if you're anyone else but me. We're nearing the next issue of Strip being released and Jillian has gone off the fucking rails. She's been barking at me all day long about the cover photo.

You know, the one that has Harry's face plastered on it. He's sitting on his leather couch in a dark corner of the club, his legs spread open, and his arms splayed on the back of the couch. He has a mean smirk on his face and his curls are extra fluffy hanging over his shoulders.

The siren must have gotten under Jill's skin because I've been making phone calls all day trying to pull it from our publisher before it gets printed. Newsflash: it's been printed and will be on shelves in two days. But because I can't fix the issue, it's my fault and not hers. Her anger isn't really at me, but she has no one else to take it out on.

She doesn't get a lot of attention so when Harry came to see her every morning, she turned into a whole new person. It's like he gave her a small glimpse of what it feels like to be wanted, and suddenly her lava turned to flowers.

I understand it, he's got a way with words. He knows how to make people feel good and he does it well. I'm not the only person he ghosted, but she doesn't even know about his... fiasco... with me.

I bet she would murder my entire family if she found out we were half Eskimo sisters.

"BRIANA!"

Well, speak of the she-devil.

"How many times do I have to tell you to fix this? If I see one single copy of this picture anywhere in this city, you will regret ever coming into my office! I don't care what you have to do, or whose pants you need to undo, make it happen!" She stands in front of my desk, flustered and red as a tomato.

How bold of you to talk about getting in pants to make things happen. That sounds familiar, right Jilly?

I'm currently on the phone with the publishers again, as per her request. This time it's more of an effort to pass time and look like I'm busy. They know who Jillian is, they can hear her right now. Look, I'm on their side, this woman is crazy when she's mad and right now, she's pissed. I don't blame them at all for this, she knows as well as I do that you can't un-print that curly-headed asshole off of the magazine, yet she's going to blow a blood vessel trying.

I stare at her, taking the phone away from my ear and holding it out for her to take. My face is stoic, not wanting to give her a reason to scream more. I figure if my half-assed pleas won't get the job done, maybe she would like to try yelling useless commands at someone else. Usually, I'd be scrambling to fix this for her, I would probably go as far as hand-picking every single copy off of the shelves and burning them.