“Now this is what I’m talking about!”

Rubbing the palm of her hands together, Laurel marches into the kitchen and, closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath. “The smell of sushi. Glorious,” she whispers, opening her eyes and looking at the large tray of sushi I’ve set up on the granite counter of our new kitchen.

“I still can’t believe we went from microwave pizza to having sushi delivered at our door,” I tell her, running my hand over the counter and looking around. Compared to the old kitchen in our old apartment, this one feels like something out of a Manhattan Reign set. Better than it, actually, since we don’t have to use CGI to have a view.

“Not just any sushi. This is quality sushi,” Laurel corrects me, walking toward the counter and gazing at the sashimi slices lined up around the tray.

“And expensive as hell,” I whisper, looking at the bill tucked under the tray. Moving fast, she snags the bill and crumples it in her hand.

“Dinner’s on me, girl. Don’t you worry about bills today,” she tells me, and I just smile at her. Even though she doesn’t earn as much as I do (well, she doesn’t even earn a quarter of what I do, now that I’m part of the Manhattan Reign cast), she still wants to pitch in and help pay the bills.

When I told her I had my eyes set on a new apartment, her first reaction was a simple (and sad) “oh.” You see, she thought I was moving out and leaving her behind. Of course, I’d be crazy to do something like that; Laurel has been my best friend for ages, and living the single life without her is the last thing on my mind.

When I invited her to live with me, she then got pretty excited about it. But when I showed her the apartment I had in mind, her expression turned sad pretty fast. “I can’t afford this,” she only whispered, and I just squeezed her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “Where one goes, the other follows,” I told her. I also told her that she’d have to sign a contract with her own blood and sell me her soul, and that definitely helped to brighten up her mood.

So that’s us now, living in a three-bedroom apartment in downtown Manhattan. Top floor, great view over the city, and not a single creaky floorboard in the whole apartment. Sure, we’re not living at One57 or anything as crazy as that, but this is definitely a nice improvement from our ratty old apartment.

“You could've invited Kane over, you know?” She says out of the blue, looking at me with a devious expression. “You still haven’t showed him how great your new bedroom is? I think he’d definitely love that big, comfy mattress you got in there…”

“Oh, come on,” I laugh, feeling the burn of boiling blood on my cheeks. “I can’t bring him here. It’d be too much of a risk.”

“Well, the whole thing is kinda risky, isn't it? But you're having fun, I guess...I can see it by the look on your face. I guess Kane really knows how to use his big —”

“Ah, Laurel! Stop!” I laugh, taking our chopsticks out of their wrappers. Snagging a slice of sashimi out of the tray, I put it into my mouth and close my eyes, savoring it. Yeah, this definitely is an improvement over microwave pizza.

“No, I won't stop. You're a soon-to-be world famous actress, dating one of the most eligible bachelors in the word...At least allow me the courtesy of living through you,” she sighs.

“Oh, cheer up! You'll find a hot producer and —”

“Even if I do, I doubt he'll be as hot as Kane. He has that whole daddy thing going on, you know?” She continues to say, going trough the sushi tray so fast I can barely keep up. “And you definitely like that, don't you? You slut!”

“That’s really mature of you,” I frown, even though I know exactly what she means. Kane’s old enough to be my father, but he still appears as if he’s in his thirties...More than that, he’s charming enough to make any woman’s panties melt off. ‘Daddy’ might be a silly dirty word, but it definitely describes how I feel toward him. He’s my daddy, and I love him for it.

“See? You don’t even deny it!” she says, using one hand to play with her phone while, with the other, she keeps on devouring everything on the tray. “Oh, well. At least one of us is happy and successful,” she shrugs, her eyes focused on the screen on her phone.

“You’ll be successful too. It’s just a matter of time; you’ll find a producer soon enough. Who knows? Kane might even be interested in one of your scripts, and that would definitely help you out.”

“I don’t know. Every single producer I meet tells me my ideas aren’t commercial enough. Like, hello? Does anyone even care about art anymore?” She sighs, but then she looks up at me and smiles. “But, yeah...Maybe you could show Kane one of my scripts. That wouldn’t hurt.”

“I can try to —”

“Oh,” she cuts me short, shoving her phone under my nose. “Check this one. This blog is ripping Alberta a new one.” I read the headline on the screen and, completely unable to control myself, I grin.

Is it time for Manhattan Reign to let go of Alberta? the article reads, but Laurel pulls back her phone before I can keep on reading.

“C’mon, these gossip blogs are always so full of bullshit,” I laugh, even though I feel pretty satisfied about what she just showed me. I don’t consider Alberta as my enemy, but she definitely considers me hers, as such, I guess I don’t have to feel guilty about enjoying the article Laurel just showed me.

“But they’re fun,” she shrugs, distractedly scrolling through her Facebook feed and binging on the latest gossip. “Did you know some blogs think Stefan and Jasmine are actually a couple?”

“But they’re not...It might seem like it, but —”

“Oh, shit!” Laurel suddenly breathes out, her eyes widening as her thumb hovers over the screen. She swallows hard and then, slowly, she raises her gaze.

“What is it?” I ask her, my heart skipping a beat as I see the worried expression on her face. Without saying a word, she simply turns her phone to me.

On the screen, there’s a photo of Kane having dinner with Alberta.