NOVA
Sienna Park had the instincts of a bloodhound and the patience of a woman who had once waited fourteen hours outside a courthouse in January for a source who never showed.
She was also my best friend. Which meant that when she called me at 9:47 PM on a Tuesday, I couldn’t screen it. I’d been screening calls from everyone else for three days. Diane. Toby. Two producers from a morning show I’d never heard of who somehow already had my personal number. But not Sienna. Never Sienna.
I picked up on the second ring, tucking the phone between my shoulder and my ear while I poured a glass of wine I absolutely deserved.
“You have exactly thirty seconds to explain yourself before I show up at your apartment with a bottle of Malbec and a list of questions,” Sienna said by way of greeting.
“
