by Ali Parker
“She’s super sexy. Got a real pretty voice. And she’s a radio DJ.”
The other room erupted in what looked like a great bout of laughter. I glared at Doug and my assistant, Lizzy, who had just walked into the room. She was doubled over, clutching her flat stomach that I’d envied since she was hired two years ago, wheezing with laughter. Doug slapped his knee and rocked back in his chair as he threw his head back with roars of laughter. I’d have to smack them when I got done with the show. Asshats.
“Is she single?” I asked, playing dumb.
“Truth be told, I don’t know much about her, but I know one thing.”
“And that is?”
“This woman is mine. She should be with me.”
“And what would your pick-up line be if you were able to get in front of her?” I forced myself to play along. The listeners were intelligent. They knew this guy was razzing me. No need to skip into the web he was clumsily laying.
“I’d look her in her dark blue eyes—”
“Brown.” I grabbed my drink, twisted the top, and drank deeply, wishing like hell it were whiskey. Family favorite. At least the carbonation was still pleasant.
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “I’d look her in her big brown eyes and say, ‘Baby, if I told you that you were hotter than four hells, could I take you home with me tonight?’”
I spit the drink all over the equipment and my screen as a laugh busted out of me. “That’ll only work on the back of a Greyhound bus, Darrel, but thanks for your call, and good luck.” I pressed the button to let Bubba go and leaned into my mic. “I’d love to hear from you on Twitter. If that line would have won Darrel a night with you, tell me who hurt you. Please. Because Good lord, that’d make for some good quality entertainment. Now please, enjoy a word from our sponsors while I clean my Mountain Dew off my equipment.”
After pressing another button to start the three-minute advertisement, I stood and reached for the paper towels. Lizzy came through the door in a hurry and worked to help me clean up everything with a wad of paper towels and a wet rag that smelled of citrus cleaner.
“Good grief. I have no idea how you do this gig.” Lizzy snorted and took the messy paper towels from my hands. She tucked a short strand of nearly black hair behind her ear and nodded at the timer on my screen. “I’d lose it talking to a bozo like that.”
“I love the idea of love.” I shrugged. My voice—my real voice—was deeper than Nessa Night’s, and a little less flirty. The accent was just for the show. It helped me stay Clark Kent while the world searched high and low for Superman.
Or Wonder Woman, as it were?
“More power to you, sister.” She nodded toward the caller board. “Doug said to try and squeeze in one more call. They have a normal-sounding guy on the line. Your usual dude.”
“Mr. No Name?” I smiled as butterflies danced in my stomach. The guy had been calling since the beginning of my show. His voice was deep and rich like German chocolate. Something about it dragged me in deep. It played with me in my dreams and offered promises of pleasure. The itch to get home to my book and a glass of wine was suddenly gone.
“That’s the one.” She winked and turned, walking back out of the studio. Doug gave me a thumbs-up, which I returned with a little less gusto.
Let’s do this thing.
Chapter 2
Vanessa
After my headphones were securely on my head, I sat down and took a quick, shallow breath. My heart should have been lifting my shirt, as hard as the dang thing was beating. What was it with this guy?
Familiarity. Masculinity. And his desire for love.
I jabbed the blinking red light.
“Hi there, caller. What’s your name, and how can I hope to heal your heart today?” A smile played on the right side of my mouth. I bowed my head in an effort to hide it from Doug, who would never let me hear the end of it if he saw. Anticipation curled inside of me.
“Nessa, it’s me.”
The storm of nerves and guilt and shame quieted as the sadness in his voice stole my heart. “Mr. No Name?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s up? It’s been a while.” I tried hard to keep my voice upbeat, hoping by some miracle he was both okay and heartbroken at the same time. No better way to step in and steal his heart than under the guise of helping to heal it. Terrible.
“It has been a while. Things had been good, but now my shit is all messed up. My girlfriend was sleeping with her ex.” He let out a soft growl that did things to me I wouldn’t want anyone to know about. “I thought she was the one, but nope. She was just stringing me along and spending my money on shoes and fancy hotel stays for her and the asshole she promised me she was over. I’m so pissed at myself for trying again. I need to quit looking for a stranger and find someone that knows me. You know? Someone that I know well. Someone who knows what trust means.”
“Someone from your past?” I leaned in and pressed my elbows against the desk. No doubt Doug and the crew were rolling their eyes, but I couldn’t care less. I gave the man on the line my full attention as I fell into the suspended reality that enveloped me every time I heard his voice.
“I guess, but that seems stupid too.”
“Don’t you live close to where you grew up?” The more I knew of this man, the more I wanted him.
“Yeah.” A long sigh left him. “Why can’t women just tell you what the hell they want? I’d have given this girl anything she asked for.”
“Sometimes, it’s hard to voice something when you don’t know what you’re after. Most of us can’t choose a value meal at McDonald's. If that’s difficult, think about how much harder voicing relationship desires might be.” I paused. He was silent on the other end. Did he hang on to every word I said as desperately as I did when he was speaking? “I suppose this probably isn’t much help. Regardless of the difficulty, she never should have treated you like that. I’m sorry this happened.”
“Thank you.” He sounded surprised, like my empathy was a curveball he hadn’t anticipated. “I guess I’m just disappointed. I wanted it to work. I mean, I’m glad the shit fell apart earlier rather than later, but it would have been nice to have it work for once.”
“It’s going to work out soon. Don’t stop trying. Love is worth the effort, the disappointments, the denials, the trials it puts all of us through. It’s the best part about being alive.” My words were as empty as my heart. What did I know about the trials of love?
Desire whispered my name, and I closed my eyes, imagining Mr. No Name behind me, his strong arms around my shoulders, his thick chest pressed to my back. I knew lust. Sure. I knew desire and wanting something out of your reach. But I did not know anything deeper than that.
“Nessa? Nessa? You still there?” His chuckle was beyond cute.
I came to. “Oh yeah. Sorry. Just thinking about how much I love love.”
“And you’re taken, right?” I could feel his smirk through the earphones. How could a thing I couldn’t see be so sexy?
“I am,” I mumbled begrudgingly. The best way to keep up my facade was to not let anyone know who I was. Unfortunately, if the city of Nashville knew that its favorite at-night love doctor was single and always had been, it would be the death of my career.
Without this gig, my Pinterest dream home would officially be out of my reach for good.
Not happening. Not even for Mr. No Name.
“Too bad.” He chuckled. “I’m going to go drown my sorrows in whiskey and Mountain Dew. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should just look at this as it being my ex’s true love. That helps a little.”
“Liar.” I glanced up when Doug tapped on the glass and pointed to the watch on his wrist. My time was up and running over.
“You know it. Enjoy your evening, and if you find a single girl who’s looking for love in all the wrong places, turn her my direction?”
“That, I’ll do. Goodnight, my friend.” I clicked the call off, pressed my girlie longing for the
caller back down, and stood. “That’s all tonight, folks. Remember that love is around every corner. Whether we choose to acknowledge it is up to us. It’s the one thing that offers the greatest highs and lowest lows, but nothing else compares. Find it. Foster it. Keep it. Until next time, this is Nessa Night. Signing off.”
I pulled off my headphones and then my glasses. The room around me became a blur of people cleaning up for the night-show host.
“Great job as always.” Doug appeared out of nowhere and walked me toward the door, his arm around my shoulders. “Hey, I want you to meet Ryan. He’s the new intern that’ll be helping us out from time to time.”
A handsome frat-boy type with blond hair and blue eyes stepped into the studio. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. I didn’t like him from his looks alone, but I forced myself to smile and extended my hand. “Welcome. Glad to have you.”
“You too, Nessa. I’m looking forward to working with you. The show was exceptional, as always.” He moved back and turned toward Doug. “You want to walk through a recap on the show?”
That was my cue to get the hell out of Dodge before someone stopped me to ask me questions. Exhaustion settled in my bones as I gathered my jacket from the back of my studio chair and shrugged into it. I patted my pockets, checking for my phone and car keys, and then swept out of the studio and into the hallway. I paused after a few steps, realizing I was missing something.
My purse. Damn.
Turning on my heel, I walked quickly back toward Doug’s office, where I kept my purse tucked under his desk. I dropped into a crouch and fetched it from the floor. I was about to get to my feet when Ryan’s voice washed over me from where he and Doug still stood in my studio.
“Nessa is a little surprising,” Ryan said.
“How so?” Doug asked innocently.
“She’s talking to people about being romantic, but she’s not in a relationship, right?”
“No clue, but that’s none of our business. Your confidentiality agreement says the same. Got it?”
Ryan gave a frat-boy chuckle. “I know. Just saying, it seems a little off. A little… misleading.”
“That’s your opinion. The listeners love her.”
“Agreed. She’s a pretty girl. In the face. If she could lose a little bit of weight, she’d be a bombshell.”
“Hey!” Doug’s voice hardened. I’d never heard him take such a sharp tone before, especially not with an employee. “No more about Nessa. She’s like a daughter to me. If you can’t act professionally, leave. Got it, kid? We don’t need this kind of judgmental negativity around here.”
I yanked my purse out from under the desk and slung it over my shoulder. Feeling like a damn fool, I crab crawled to the door so the men in the studio couldn’t see me. Once I was in the hallway, I straightened and power-walked down the fluorescent-light-lined hallway to the parking lot out back.
Ryan’s words rang in my ears like a foghorn.
If she could lose a little bit of weight, she’d be a bombshell.
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard such things spoken behind my back. Hell, some people had said them to my face, too. People from high school who would most definitely be at the dreaded reunion. They weren’t telling me anything I didn’t already know or think about every day.
Especially when I looked into the mirror.
Chapter 3
Rhys
“Rhys, stop committing. It’s that simple. If you don’t commit, then you don’t end up holding the bag of used condoms like an idiot when shit doesn’t pan out. Plain and simple.” Chris wielded his steak knife mercilessly as he sliced through his juicy top sirloin. I could smell the peppercorn sauce from where I sat across the table from him. “Get me?”
It was easy for my friend to say. He wasn’t the one who’d just had his heart ripped out and stomped on by his cheating ex-girlfriend. The back of my neck still started to sweat with anger when I thought about coming home two weeks ago to find my girl straddling her ex on my fucking kitchen floor.
I popped a piece of steak into my mouth. My tongue tingled with the flavor as salt and pepper and butter and fat teased my taste buds. “I’m not interested in the love ‘em and leave ‘em game anymore, Chris. I’ve done that shit for twelve years. I’m ready to find her.”
“And if her doesn’t exist? Then what?” Chris had no issue talking with his mouth full in the middle of the steakhouse. Seeing as how he was a professional football player for the Seattle Seahawks, he got away with this kind of shit all the time. Good manners were sometimes lost on him.
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Really? You’re going to throw that noise my way? That the woman of my dreams doesn’t exist? Well, you’re wrong.”
“Prove it to me.” He leaned back and smirked. “Where is she, brother?”
Chris wasn’t my brother, but we had grown up together, and we might as well have been. His family was better to me than my own and I’d spent many a Sunday night at their dinner table with Chris, his parents, and his little sister.
“She’s on the radio.” I shrugged and challenged him to come after me with his toxic view of love. It was nothing I hadn’t heard before. “She’s got a nighttime show.”
“You are not talking about Nashville Nights with Nessa.” He ran his hand down the front of his face. “You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not. She’s the one, dude.” I picked up my shot glass and threw it back. The whiskey was a lip-puckering disappointment. My line of work and my family history made it impossible to enjoy a good drink anymore.
“She’s in a relationship,” Chris said flatly, arching a thick dark eyebrow at me.
“Or so she says.” I put my glass down and smiled. “She’s lying, Chris. Every time I call, her voice gets dreamy. She likes me. Knows me. She wants me. I’m one-hundred-percent sure of it.”
“You’re one-hundred-percent delusional. She doesn’t know you.” Chris scoffed and shook his head as he set his cutlery down. The restaurant was loud with the hum of other conversations. The music was lyric-less rock and the lights were dim. “Tell me. Where is this woman from? What is her real name? Hell, what the fuck does she look like?” He picked up his silverware and went back to eating his steak like a starving man.
“I’m guessing she’s from England. She’s got a soft English accent, right? I can hear it in her voice sometimes.” I followed suit, eating my steak with vigor.
“You’re guessing because you don’t know. You’re going to find yourself catfished.” He snorted. “Her name? Her looks?”
“No clue.” I ignored his jabs. Nothing could change my interest in this woman. She and I had shared countless phone conversations, and her guidance had always been a reprieve from whatever holy Hell I was living through. “Who cares what her name is or what she looks like?”
“She’s probably a ninety-year-old Asian man with false teeth and a peg leg.”
“You should be writing books. You’re not W. Parker, are you?” I laughed as he choked on his next bite.
“No. I don’t know a thing about romance. Sex? Yeah, I know a shit ton about sex, but romance is out. That’s much more your style, though I remember a time when you didn’t want anything but a good old-fashioned fuck, too.”
“It wasn’t that long ago.” I leaned back and wished for a drunken haze. I’d always been the playboy, the hurt them before they can hurt me kind of guy, but something changed a few years back when Nessa came on the radio. She had a different view of the world.
And I fell in love.
“I think you should go back to that. It’s easy, man. I promise. Look at you.” He lifted his hands, palms up, as if I was something on display. “You look like hell.”
“I was going to propose to Trish, Chris. We’d been together for two years. It wasn’t like I found her at the bar a week ago. We were trying to build a life together.”
“She liked shitty music, man.”
“So?”
“And she only drank sugar-free ciders.”
“I don’t see the point you’re trying to make.”
Chris let out a tired sigh. “She wasn’t the one for you, man. Never was. Come on. You knew that too. You just wanted her to be so you didn’t have to start back at square one. All I’m saying is don’t start at all. Take a break from the love shit. Try swimming in some new pussy and see what happens.”
I tossed my napkin on the table. “I’m out. I’ll check you tomorrow at your parents’ thing.”
“You’re leaving me here?” He sounded incredulous. “With the bill?”
“Looks that way. Find some piece of meat you can chew on. Hmm?” I walked around him, clapped him hard on the back, and stalked out of the restaurant into the dark night. I got the keys to my Porsche from the valet, paid him, and peeled away, leaving the bitterness of my conversation with Chris behind.
Chris had never held back when it came to sharing his opinions with me. And to be fair, sometimes he was right. Other times, not so much. But he loved me like a brother.
And like a brother, I was happy to love him back and leave his unhappy ass at the steakhouse with my last name plastered across the entranceway.
Without thinking about it, I reached up and hit redial on the dash of my car. The sound of ringing filled the space around me.
My muscles tightened just thinking about Nessa picking up. Back in the day, her staff screened her calls, but as of the last six months, they’d stopped that shit. I was grateful for it.
Some part of me knew it was wrong to want someone I didn’t know, but I couldn’t help it. I was drawn to her. Like a moth to a flame. Hell, most of the men and women in Nashville were. It was no secret that the city was head over heels for a woman that wore a mask.
I ended the call. The show was over. My optimism that she might answer the phone had been woefully misplaced. Still, I thought of her as I drove. Her words from the call we shared before I met Chris for dinner rang in my ears.