A New Job For Sammy

“I don’t believe it. Some idiot’s given me a one-star review.”

“It doesn’t matter,

does it?”

“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

spite.”

“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

is?”

“Who?”

“That twit who

writes a column for that fashion magazine. It’s one of his pseudonyms. I

remember now.”

“Oh, that twit you

fancy?“

“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

coffee table.

“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.”

Johnny began

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."

“Woohoo.” Johnny

teased.

“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

see.

Busy.

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?”

“Well, what?”

“Well, are you going

to meet up or not?”

“I’ll think about

it.”

“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

friends.

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

about.

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.

“Well?”

Sammy jumped up and

down.

“They've not only

offered me the job of a columnist for their new fashion magazine. That’s all.”

“And David?”