But Vivian wanted to know now, and there was no use in lying or trying to cover it up, so she took a deep breath, clasped her hands together, and said, “Well, I-I’ve just been working on an article. I emailed it to Salon this morning.”

Instead of looking impressed, Vivian frowned. “A Salon article? You?”

Like it was completely outlandish. Jules’s temper flared. “What does that mean?”

“Not what you’re thinking.” She shook her head. “You’re unknown. Someone like you can’t just expect to get published on a popular site via the slush pile. You have to know someone.”

Mollified that Vivian hadn’t been slighting her, just her lack of exposure, Jules perked up. “Oh, I know! Simon helped me.”

Vivian blinked. “He did?”

“Yep. He knows an editor there, and he said he’d put me on her radar. But I had to write the article first.” She took a deep breath and exhaled it. “I sent it today. That’s what I’ve been doing the past few days. Not while I was supposed to be working, though,” she added quickly. “Just before work or afterward or whatever.”

This time, Vivian didn’t blink. In fact, she stared at her without blinking. Jules had heard somewhere that serial killers often did that. “I see.”

She was starting to get a bad feeling about this. But why? “Uh, nothing’s guaranteed, of course. I just have to wait and see.”

“‘Wait and see.’” Vivian’s voice was clipped. “All right, then. Get my coat.”

Tonight she didn’t wait for Jules to assist her but just snatched her things out of Jules’s hands and headed for the elevator without another word, without even looking at her.

Jules sat down at her desk, trembling a little. That hadn’t gone well, but she didn’t know why. Vivian didn’t have any mortal enemies at Salon, and there was decent crossover between both audiences. It didn’t make sense. All she knew was that her glow of anticipation was gone now because she was worried she’d upset Vivian.

It was just that, in some tiny, pathetic part of her head, she had wanted Vivian to be proud of her. She hadn’t expected praise but had at least expected Vivian to see, for her to recognize…

So much for that. It hadn’t happened, and Jules had pissed off Vivian instead of pleasing her.

That night, while she sat at home in her apartment, Jules thought about how she’d felt so excited and how Vivian had ruined it. And for the first time in a long time, she let herself hate Vivian Carlisle just a teeny little bit.

* * *

“So tell me,” Simon said the next morning, “why is Vivian treating me like I have bubonic plague?”