“Ooh, yeah. That’s what I call a money shot and Mama needs a new pair of sneakers.”
It seemed that Rowan had walked in at the perfect moment. He saw the woman he’d been told about- a little on the immature side (though he’d been warned), but funny, and extremely talented. His sources were rarely wrong.
She was caught up in her own work and didn’t notice him…. Didn’t see him give her the once over, didn’t see his smirk of appreciation, didn’t see him glance down at the printed photographs on the table.
Rowan didn’t put much stock in tabloid work, but he did have an eye for quality. And in a business that was slowly becoming more and more obsolete he wanted to make sure that he had the best working for him. He had a feeling this woman was exactly what he was looking for.
“Nice camera.”
“Clicks? Yeah, she does me right in a pinch. So many people put stock in the digital game these days but I still maintain that if you give a monkey a polaroid he’ll… give you a family portrait.” She slowly drifted off her comment as she looked up, obviously thinking he was someone else when she started speaking. ”I’m sorry, do I know you?
“I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Rowan Rivers, Editor-“
“-Of the Daily Prophet. Yeah, I know.”
“So you’ve heard of me.”
“The youngest editor in two centuries? Yeah, you could say that.”
“And I know who you are, Alicia Spinnet. Two season chaser for the Arrows. It’s such a shame about that-“
“Yeah, do you mind? I’m kind of on a deadline here. Gotta get these in before the story goes to print or I don’t get my cut.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t you hear? Sex sells.”
“You’ve got potential.”
She snorted. ”Sure. Tell that to my old coach. I don’t think he got the memo.”
“I’m not talking about Quidditch.”
“I’m just trying to make sure my rent check gets paid on time this month, so let’s not-“
“You’re good, Alicia. Not great, but you could be.”
“I’m not looking for a new career.”
He leaned over and wrote a few numbers down on the edge of the photo sitting on the table. ”That should get you the new sneakers, the rent check, and whatever else you’ve been denying yourself lately.”
“I don’t-“
“That’s a semi-monthly rate. But don’t say no now. Show up on Monday and I’ll give you a real story to work on.”
He walked away without hearing her answer.
“I’m not for sale!” she called out half-heartedly, but glancing down at the number on the table and back at his departing form she had to wonder if she actually believed that comment.
