“I don’t believe it. Some idiot’s given me a one-star review.”
“It doesn’t matter,
“Yes, it does. It
matters to me. They’ve said my article’s too short. Of course, it’s too bloody
short. It‘s meant to be short. It tells you how many words there are above it.
Can’t they read? And they’ve mentioned spelling and grammar mistakes. There are
supposed to be spelling and grammar mistakes. That’s the whole point of the
article—idiots. Grammar and spelling mistakes and writing short articles when
they should be long ones—that’s what it’s all about. Some people really get on
my nerves at times. They just want to pick holes in everything. I bet this
person didn’t even read my article and just put the one star review out of
“Well, if they
mentioned the errors in it, then I’d say they must have read it, or at least
some of it.”
“Their review is
nearly as long as my article. Who the hell do they think they are?”
“Let me have a look.
Sarah Sneddon. It says.” Johnny leaned over Sammy’s shoulder and read what was
on the screen.” I bet that’s not even her real name.”
“I’ll click on it
and see what it says.” Sammy clicked the name and viewed the page that popped
up on Facebook. She went through the hundreds of friends names and faces and
looked at some of the photos to see if she recognised anyone.
“I know who this
“That twit who
writes a column for that fashion magazine. It’s one of his pseudonyms. I
“Oh, that twit you
“I don’t fancy him?”
“Then why do you
keep copies of all his stuff and fill the coffee table with his magazines? Look
there’s piles of them.” Johnny pointed to the untidy mass clogging up the
“Because I like to
keep up to date with fashion. That’s why.”
“Huh. I bet.”
“I’m going to email
him and ask him what he thinks he’s up to.”
singing, Here Comes the Bride.
“Pack it in, Johnny,
or you’ll get a punch in the face.”
“I dare you.”
Sammy jumped up from
the computer and chased her brother around the coffee table. They both fell on
the floor in a pile of laughter.
“I don’t like him. I
just told you.” Sammy spoke between panting breaths as she stood up and went
back to her desk.
“I’m going to email
him to see what he thinks he’s up to."
“Oh, stop it,
Johnny, and let me get on with what I’m trying to do.”
What do you think you’re playing at giving me a
crabby one-star review and using your pseudonym? Sam x
Sammy was used to
signing all her emails with an x and thought nothing of signing this one the
same. A ping on her computer told her there was a reply.
Just messing, that’s all. How are you? Long time no
Sammy replied and
sat waiting for another ping, but none came for the rest of the afternoon.
Sammy felt deflated
and unable to concentrate on her work. She kept checking her emails, and
listening for that familiar sound. Then the ping came.
Can we meet up?
Her heart skipped a
beat. Johnny noticed her flushed face. “What’s happened? Has your heart-throb
asked for a date?”
“Stop it Johnny. I
mean it. Leave me alone. He’s not my heartthrob. He just emailed me, that’s
all. He’s asked if we can meet up.”
“Well, are you going
to meet up or not?”
“I’ll think about
“Don’t think for too
long or you might miss the chance.”
Sammy replied to the
email in the affirmative.
“We’re meeting at
Charlie’s Bar on Friday at nine o’clock.”
“Isn’t that where
all those fashion writers and models meet up?”
“I don’t know.”
Sammy did know.
“Oh well, you’d
better get all dressed up and watch out that they don’t ask you to do some
modelling for them.”
“Modelling is the
last thing I want to do. I’m a writer. Remember?”
Sammy put on her
make-up, tight blue jeans and low-cut white top and drove to Charlie’s Bar.
“Hi Sam.” David said
as he kissed her on the cheek. Come in and I’ll introduce you to all my
Sammy felt rather
nervous as David placed his comforting hand on her back and ushered her into
the crowded pub. After many hellos,
she sat down at a round table surrounded by happy smiley faces chatting away to
each other. She felt a bit self conscious so she began taking short sips from
the glass of wine David had ordered for her.
David then joined
her and introduced her to his friends around the table. He pointed out notable
models, writers, fashion experts, and anyone else he thought Sammy should know
Toward the end of
the evening, David turned and looked at Sammy. He said that the editor of the
new fashion magazine was looking for a columnist and he had put her name
forward. As it turned out, she was the only applicant and therefore the job was
hers if she wanted it.
Sammy was overjoyed.
She grabbed David’s face in her hands, pulled his head towards her and kissed
him on the lips. Then, with blushing cheeks, she withdrew.
“Sorry. I was a bit
overcome that’s all.”
“Don’t be sorry.
I’ll have more of that wherever it came from.”
Sammy giggled as she
waited for her red cheeks to turn back to pink.
“Can we meet again
tomorrow?” David smiled.
“That would be
lovely. I’ll text you to make arrangements. Now I must be getting home.”
Sammy quietly closed
the door to the flat.
Johhny was still up
and sitting in the kitchen.
Sammy jumped up and
“They've not only
offered me the job of a columnist for their new fashion magazine. That’s all.”