By Monday morning, I still hadn't heard back from West about lunch, so I packed a turkey and cheese on honey wheat into my insulated lunch bag and went to work early, as usual. Thankfully, there was no yelling in the conference room that day, and I was able to slip quietly into my office and get right to work.

I started by printing the weekly online-activity report I'd created for our accounts. It displayed all the week prior's email and social-media statistics, showcasing what elements were working and which ones needed improvement. I also highlighted two different photos I'd taken screenshots of on the Music City Rollers' fan page over the weekend. Both were of Medusa. One was a professional picture from a photoshoot; the other was a selfie of a black puppy licking her face.

The professional picture with appropriate lighting and airbrushing had 113 likes.

The selfie with all her tattoos and puppy slobber? 1,872.

I printed both on the same page and wrote in the margin. "Casual is better. Can we get a line item in the budget for puppies?" I decorated the question with a sloppy doodle of a paw print.

Then I opened my inbox to find an email from Peter Jansen, Audrey's assistant.

Lucy,

Audrey received the file with the photos for Jake's new ad campaigns. She doesn't understand why we're paying a graphic designer to recreate the same photo four different ways. If you're asking for her to choose one, she says—and I quote: "Tell her to use the photo with the blue truck and move on to more pressing projects."

Please advise.

P.B.J.

Peter, literally, signed all of his communications with "P.B.J." and I still didn't know him well enough to know whether or not he realized it was funny. Passing in the halls and across the table at staff meetings, Peter didn't seem to have much of a sense of humor, but who could, working directly with Audrey every day? Poor peanut-butter-and-jelly guy.

I typed out an explanation, not that I should've had to. It was my specialty, after all. One of the main reasons she hired me.

Peter,

Please tell Audrey I will be using all four graphics for the new social-media campaigns. I realize they are all very similar. It's called "split testing." Each image will be tested against the others to see which one delivers the best results: i.e. the most ticket sales. Promoting Jake's new tour still is the most pressing project, correct?

Please advise.

L.L.C.

Yes, my initials are ridiculous as well, therefore throwing stones was allowed.

Peter's one-line response came quickly.

Will deliver the explanation. My money is on #3, the Atomic Turquoise truck, for the win. - P.B.J.

I smiled. Perhaps P.B.J. had a hidden sense of humor after all. I wrote back.

Glad you like them, but 'Atomic Turquoise' is not a color. #3 is RGB (0, 170, 204) - L.L.C.

A moment later, I clicked open another email from him.

Manic Panic says it's a color. I dyed my hair Atomic Turquoise once in high school. - P.B.J.

In the stillness of my office, I burst out laughing. It was hard to picture Peter with blue hair—or any hair, for that matter. He was bald and shiny up top now, a style forced upon him, as evidenced by the shadowy stubble that encircled the crown of his head on casual Fridays.

Another email popped into my inbox.

Our doors are open. I can hear you laughing. - P.B.J.

I hit reply, and my fingers flew across the keyboard.

I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing WITH you. Unless you're not laughing. In such case, I'm watching funny cat videos online. - Lucy

If you're watching funny cat videos, I'm telling Audrey. Just kidding. Gotta get back to work before heads—namely, mine—start rolling - P.B.J.

I laughed again, quieter this time. Apparently, Audrey hadn't sucked all the life out of the office after all.

The four new ads were completed by lunchtime, and I ate my sad little sandwich all alone in my office. Not completely deterred by the injuries I'd seen the day before, while I ate, I read an article I'd bookmarked called "22 Things Every Roller Derby Fresh Meat Newbie Should Know." Number seven on the list was "Don't Date Your Teammates." I was wondering if the advice would apply to sponsors as well when my cell phone rang. The call was from an unknown number.

Surely, it had to be West calling from his office or something to make those lunch plans he'd mentioned over the weekend.

"Hello?" I answered, my voice a little too bright and cheerful.

"May I speak with Lucy Cooper?" the man—who was definitely not West Adler—asked.

"This is Lucy Cooper."

"Hi, Miss Cooper. My name is Ward Taylor. I'm your auto-damage adjuster from Fieldsouth Insurance."

I slumped in my chair. "Oh, hi."

"I just finished estimating the damage on your 2009 GKS Sport."

Putting down my sandwich, I leaned forward with my elbows on the desk, cradling my forehead in my hand as I braced for the news. "How bad is it?"

"It's a total loss, I'm afraid," he said.

My heart sank.

"I do have a check for you in the amount of $6,013. You can either meet me here at the shop, or I can mail it to you."

I looked at the clock. It was just after noon. "How long will you be at the shop?"

"I'll be around this area until about two today," he said.

"Can we meet there in about half an hour?"

"That's perfect. I'll see you soon."

After hanging up the phone, I rested my head against the back of my chair. It had been so nice not having a car payment, for the two months that I didn't, anyway. I sighed, not looking forward to buying a new car by myself. Dad had always gone with me before, and now he was jaunting around Costa Rica with Katherine. Ugh. Waiting till he got back wasn't an option, either.

No longer hungry, I dropped the rest of my sandwich in the trash can under my desk. I set my office phone to "Gone to Lunch" and hit the sleep button on my computer monitor. On my way down the hall, I paused at Audrey's door to drop off the weekly online report.

Across the hall, Peter's door was still open. He caught my eye and mouthed something, but I was so distracted by the thought of him with blue hair, my brain processed it a second too slowly.

"Lily?"

Crap.

Peter had been trying to tell me to "run."

Audrey was behind her massive mahogany desk, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder. As I put the papers in the pocket on her door, she motioned me forward.

I quietly shuffled across the room, her personal shrine to the company's role in shaping the landscape of country music. The two walls not made of solid glass were plastered with matching vinyl appliqués of the Record Road logo in an eighteen-inch font. Surrounding them were expensively framed album covers, record-sales awards, and autographed photos of country stars.

It was impressive. And gaudy. Nashville, to the core.

"I'll have to call you back later," she said into the phone and hung up without giving whoever was on the other end of the line a moment to protest. She looked up at me and took off her black-rimmed reading glasses. "Good afternoon, Lily."

I gritted my teeth and handed her the papers. "Here are the click-through reports on Jake's new ad campaign."

"Thank you. Please have a seat." She motioned to the chairs in front of her desk.

I looked at the clock on my phone. "I'm sorry, Audrey, but can it wait? I'm on my way to—"

Her glare cut me off, and I obediently sank into a chair.

"Thank you. I'll be brief."

I doubted it.

"I want this." She turned her monitor on its swivel around to face me. Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson stared back at me from a video window.

My lips pressed together, and I scratched my head. I thought about asking her, "You want what The Rock is cooking?" but I thought better of it.

"It's a live video stream from a movie premier's red carpet. Jana Carter did a brilliant live Q and A with her fans last week, and it's had over a half a million views. I want to use live video as part of Jake's launch strategy next month."

I blinked. "You want to do a live video instead of a pre-recorded one?" Visions of wardrobe malfunctions danced through my head.

"Yes. I think he should broadcast live from his launch party the Saturday after the album comes out. You know, make all the fans feel like they can be part of it."

I swallowed hard, forcing away images of my career going up in digital flames. There was a reason television networks added a delay on all live video. We wouldn't have that.

She sat back in her seat. "Can you work out the details? Make sure he has access, figure out how to use it, come up with a plan to advertise, et cetera?"

I nodded and forced a smile through my terror. "I'll do my best. When is the launch party?"

"Saturday, October eighth. You'll need to be there."

Had I not been sitting down, I would've fallen on the floor. "Me? You want me to come to Jake Barrett's launch party?"

"Of course I do. You're our online marketing manager. This will be your responsibility."

I swallowed hard, and with shaky hands, I pulled up the calendar on my phone to add the date. "Sure. I'll be there. Where is it?"

"At Jake's house."

I took a deep breath as I used my thumbs to enter the information into my phone.

"I'll have Peter send you the address and the time."

My pulse beat through my skull. "Sounds good," I forced out. "I'll get to work on it this afternoon."

"Fantastic." She shooed me away with her hand. "You can go now."

"Thank you, Audrey."

As I got up, she reached for her phone. "Close my door on your way out, please."

When I was out in the hallway, I closed her door, then leaned against it for support in case my legs gave out. Breathe, Lucy. It's just a party. At Jake Barrett's house. Jake Barrett, number sixteen on People Magazine's current list of Most Beautiful People. No biggie.

I fanned my face. Thankfully, Peter's office door was now closed, so no one witnessed my fangirlish meltdown. I couldn't wait to tell Olivia. I called her on my walk out of the building but got her voicemail, so I left a message. "Call me the second you get this. I have huge news to tell you. Bye."

The phone rang through the car's speaker system as I pulled out of the parking garage and onto Third Avenue. I clicked the answer button on the steering wheel without taking my eyes off the road. "You are not going to believe this!" I said by way of a greeting.

"Try me." It was West Adler's voice, not my roommate's.

I slammed on my brakes. Thankfully, no one was behind me. "Oh...hi, West."

He laughed. "Expecting someone else?"

"I thought you were Olivia. I just called her."

"Oh, well, just because I'm not her doesn't mean you can deprive me of my not believing," he said. "What are you so excited about?"

My cheeks were hot with embarrassment. I laughed and turned the air-conditioning vent toward my face. "My boss just invited me to a big party at the home of one of our artists."

"Really? Anyone I know?"

"Jake Barrett."

"Sweet! Can you bring a guest?"

I swerved a little getting on the ramp to the interstate and caught the edge of the curb with my right front tire. "Uh..."

"No pressure," he said with a laugh. "But if you need a plus-one, I'd be happy to help you out."

"You have to get past lunch first," I said, proud of my quick wit.

"Touché." He was quiet for a beat. "I was actually calling about lunch."

I smiled.

"I'm going to have to take a raincheck this week, if that's OK."

I frowned.

"I've had some stuff come up, and I won't be able to make it happen."

My wit failed me. "Yeah. OK."

He was quiet for a beat. "I hope you'll take me up on it again soon."

"Maybe if you ask nicely."

He laughed on the other end of the line. "Oh, I talked to my buddy at the shop earlier. He said your car's a goner."

I sighed. "Yep. Such is my luck."

"Well, if you're in the market for another car, try out CarMart in Cool Springs. Tell them you know me and they'll hook you up with a good deal. We just finished their remodel job a few weeks ago."

I took the Brentwood exit off the interstate. "Are you serious?"

"Girl, I know everyone in this town."

"You don't know Jake Barrett."

"Not yet," he said with a laugh. "Let me know how it goes."

"I will. Thank you."

I reached for the "End Call" button on the console.

"Hey, Lucy?"

My hand froze in the air. "Yeah?"

"I really am sorry about lunch. I'll make it up to you, I promise."