“As far as I know.” Only Kat could use the phrase “bright side time” without making Julia want to inflict bodily harm. The waitress dropped the bill and Julia fidgeted with a corner of the receipt. “We’ll see what happens when I get back to the office.”

“That’s it?” Kat pressed.

“What do you mean?”

“You never give up that easily.” Kat grabbed the check out of her hands. “What are you going to do?”

“Um, what can I do?” Julia flipped to a new page in her notepad. “Let’s see … ten ways to avoid getting canned.” She began to make a list. “Number one. Beg. Number two. Cry.”

“I’m serious, Jules.”

“Number three,” Julia continued. “Plead.”

“Isn’t plead the same thing as beg?” Andie asked.

“Not helping,” Kat growled. She took the pen from Julia. “Number four.” Kat scrawled, adding to the list. “Show them your worth.”

Julia snorted. “Okay, Miss Bright Side. I’ve had enough of your positive energy for today.”

“I’m serious, Jules.” Kat underlined what she’d written. “You said anybody could make those list things.”

“Listicles. And maybe not anybody—” Julia began.

“Fine,” Kat cut her off. “Anybody with an internet connection and a decent understanding of pop culture. Whatever. My point is you’re more than that. You’re worth more than the peanuts they pay you. So much more. You’re a great writer. You’re smart and funny and ridiculously creative. Make them see it.”

Andie brightened. “That’s actually a really good idea.”

“You’re on Li’l Miss Sunshine’s side too now?” Julia groused, but it was halfhearted at best. Hard to be annoyed at your friends when they’re showering you with compliments.

“I deal with this on the field all the time. A hundred or more girls vying for the same handful of spots on a team. All of them are competent. All of them could get the job done. Who’s bringing something a little extra to the table?”

“I’m not bribing my boss,” Julia warned.

“You’ve been watching too much reality TV, Jules.” Andie rolled her eyes. “I’m talking about the TADA factor.”

“You lost me,” Kat said.

“TADA.” Andie ticked off her fingers. “Talent. Ambition. Determination. Athleticism.”

“You can forget about that last one,” Julia said, laughing.

“Well, it was created for soccer players. How about we swap it out for something highly valued in a journalist.” Andie’s face scrunched in thought. “Accuracy?”

“Sadly, not as important as one would hope.” Julia shook her head. “I get what you’re trying to say, though.”