“Look, I’m all set with whatever covert thing you guys have going on. Alastair shows up at my door unannounced, you two follow me everywhere to protect me from some mysterious danger and now I can’t wait in my boyfriend’s hotel room because it’s not safe. I’m done. When you see Alastair tell him I said to have a good flight back to Glasgow.”
Tears pooled in my eyes more out of anger than anything. I practically threw myself into the car and pounded on the steering wheel. As exasperated as I was, I knew deep down this was all happening because I didn’t tell him his uncle hired Rachel to follow me. My own stubbornness had come back and bitten me in the ass.
* * *
Brunch with my parents was torture. They gushed and gushed about how lovely Alastair was, how much of a gentleman he was, blah, blah, blah.
“He’s a good egg, Lia,” my dad proclaimed. “Smart, personable, straightforward. He does play his cards close to his chest, though. Then again, every good businessman should.”
I forced a smile, shoving a piece of Belgian waffle into my mouth. You have no idea how close. No idea at all. I helped the waffle slide down my throat with a big sip of mimosa. The restaurant hummed with conversation as I soaked in the scenery. Or tried to at least. I couldn’t focus on anything. The food was excellent but I didn’t enjoy it as much as I should have.
“Your father and I are driving up to Saint Augustine after we finish here.”
“I hear it’s nice. I’ve never been there.”
“You’ve lived here almost six years and have never gone to Saint Augustine? Why not?”
I shrugged. “Never really thought about it.”
“Amelia,” my mother sighed, “there is more to life than being in a newsroom. Go out and experience things.”
“Seriously, mom? You honestly think I spend all my free time at work? I like my job but not that much. That place drives me nuts most days. I mean, my God, I was in Glasgow last weekend. Where else do you want me to go?” My nerves were so fried the smallest things irritated me.
“Alright, alright.” She put her hands up in retreat. “Both my daughters have demanding jobs. I worry. You’re only young once.”
“I think she’s doing just fine.” My dad patted my hand.
The rest of my time at brunch passed by painlessly. Well, in a manner of speaking. Spending time with my family was always a treat and to some extent it did help get my mind off Alastair’s abrupt departure. When I returned to my apartment I paced the living room. Paxton was on my tail again. I’d noticed the SUV while we were at the restaurant. This surge of overprotectiveness grew tiresome.
Deciding not to dwell on this, I called Stephanie and asked if she’d like to do some clothes shopping for her going away party. Never one to turn down a retail excursion she agreed enthusiastically. I found a sassy, shimmery slate gray cocktail dress that I absolutely loved.
“So, are you going to tell me why Alastair’s driver has been following us all day?” Stephanie asked while I tried on the dress.
“You noticed.”
“It’s hard not to. He sticks out like a sore thumb in that Secret Service outfit. Jesus, it’s Florida in mid-July. Nobody wears that many clothes.”
“I think they call it MI5 in the United Kingdom,” I giggled, walking out of the dressing room. “What do you think?”
“Ooh, so pretty. It makes you look all hour-glassy and hot. I wish I had your figure.”
I stared at myself in the mirror, smoothing down the dress. The sleeveless, fitted bodice was covered in a delicate design of tiled crystals. It did hug my curves in all the right places. Plus, it showed off just enough leg to be sexy without looking like I was trying too hard. “Give me some of your height and you can have some of my hips and boobs.”
“Touché. So, why is the suit and tie following you?”
I sighed. “I’m assuming it’s because of Jameson. I can’t think of any other reason.”
Stephanie looked uncomfortable. “Maybe he’s doing this because he’s jealous and doesn’t want you seeing Nathan behind his back.” She glued her eyes to the floor, fidgeting with her purse.
“You and I both know that story was a fabricated piece of shit. They made it look like I was on a date with him.”
“Did you tell Alastair that was what happened?”
I sighed. “He knows I’m not seeing him. He knows that whole thing is crap. He’s more concerned about Nathan manipulating me.” I turned toward Stephanie. She had a worried look on her face. “What?”
“Well,” she stammered, “no offense but you did ignore his shitty side for so long that maybe you can’t tell when he’s playing you.”
“I know. I was an idiot back then. It’s different now. I can see through his act way easier.”
“Can you?”
I clenched my fists. “Yes. He’s damn good at being a smooth talker but I can handle myself.”
“Why turn to him though? Why didn’t you come to me?”
“It’s complicated.”
“In what way?”
I sat on the plush, velvet-covered bench next to her. The floodgates threatened to open and spill out everything to my best friend. I wanted to tell her. She’ll overreact. “There’s something…off about why Rachel is following me. I don’t have all the facts yet. It could be nothing. Once I know, I’ll tell you. I promise.”
Discouraged, she folded her arms. “I don’t like when you clam up about stuff.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me. Maybe I can do something to help so you don’t have to rely on that ass wipe.”
“I wish there were something you could do,” I said quietly. Silence suffocated the dressing room, reaching into every corner.
“Have you heard from him?”
“Which one?”
She rolled her eyes. “Nathan.”
“Nope. Not since the night we were at dinner. He’s been radio silent all week.”
“That’s a good thing then, right?”
“Of course it’s a good thing,” I hissed, exasperated. “Do you think I like having to lean on him for help? It makes me sick but I have no choice.”
Silence again. I caught a glimpse of our reflections in the mirror. We both looked agitated.
“You know what we haven’t done in awhile?” Stephanie asked, brightening the room.
“What?”
“Gone to a theme park to ride the roller coasters. What do you say? I have nothing to do the rest of the day.”
“You are a genius. Let’s go.”
I changed and bought the dress, then drove off to spend the afternoon acting like a kid. Something about roller coasters helped relieve stress in the best way. All the yelling and screaming and high speeds were a great catharsis. We must have gone on the rides a dozen times before deciding to have dinner and drinks at one of the many countries in EPCOT. After spending a substantial amount of time in France drinking slushy, candy-flavored concoctions at the Pavilion, we made our way to the Rose and Crown pub in Great Britain. Drinking around the world seemed to be the perfect way to spend the night.
There were a good number of guests milling about the traditionally decorated British pub. The park was open late thanks to "extra magic hours" and people kept coming in. I sipped on some strong apple cider and people-watched. Sitting alone at a table in the corner keeping a watchful eye on us was Paxton. I grinned, raising my glass to him. He nodded slightly and came very close to smiling.
“We should send him a drink,” Stephanie suggested.
“I’m willing to bet my paycheck for a year he’s not allowed to drink while,” I pulled a serious face, “on assignment.”
Clinking our glasses together we both giggled.
“I wonder if Alastair has a code name for you. You know, like how they call the president Blitzen or Hawk Eye or whatever.”
I snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“I’ve heard him call you kitten before. Maybe they use Duchess, like the white fluffy cat
in Aristocats.”
“Nah. It’s probably something boring like Rosebud.”
“He knows you like to run. Maybe, Roadrunner? Or something totally British, like scone or haggis.”
I nearly fell off the barstool from laughing. “Scone or haggis? So he sees me as a quickbread or sheep organs? Oh my God. I can’t.”
We hadn’t laughed this hard together in a long, long time. It felt good. A twinge of sadness crept through me as the realization dawned that I didn’t have many more of these silly girls’ nights left with her. She’d be in Glasgow soon, ready to start her new life. Next weekend at this time I’ll be helping her pack.
“Oh no. Why the sad face?”
I swallowed my drink. “No sad face, my friend. Cheers.” We clinked glasses again and ordered another round along with a small pizza. Once we finished our food, we strolled through the park back to my car. Paxton stayed a good ten paces behind us. I felt bad for the guy, having to follow me wherever I went. My normal daily routines were so boring. I stopped short and turned around.
“Hey, Paxton,” I called out when he was closer. “Have you ever been here before?”
“To this park? No.” He stood in front of us, scanning the crowd.
“Walk with us,” Stephanie offered. “We promise not to do anything too embarrassing.”
Oh my goodness. He smiled. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile since the night we all went to the benefit in Glasgow.
“Very well.” He fell into step with us, listening to our conversation while keeping a watchful eye on our surroundings.
“How long have you worked for Alastair’s family?” I asked.
“Fifteen years.”
“Do you like working for them?”
“I have no complaints.”
“Does he ever give you a day off?” Stephanie chimed in. I elbowed her in the side and gave her a look. “Ow. Hey, it’s a valid question.”
Paxton seemed amused. “I get to enjoy a holiday now and then when I’m not scheduled to be in the States.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Was that sarcasm, Paxton?”
“Yes it was, Miss Meyers. Any more questions from the press corps?”
“Ooh,” Stephanie’s eyes glittered with enthusiasm. “Someone’s snarky. I like it.”
We stopped next to my car as he chuckled to himself.
“I do have one more question,” I said.
“Fire away.”
“Will you please stop calling me Miss Meyers? I think we’ve reached a point in our relationship where you can call me Lia.”
Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, he thought about my request for a few seconds. “I suppose that will be alright. Drive safely, Lia. I’ll be watching.” He gave me a stern look before walking to the SUV. I came very close to mock saluting him. Stephanie got in the car and laughed most of the way back to her condominium.
“That man is a hoot. You just know there’s a big personality hidden beneath that damn suit.” She paused and laughed again. “I’m a poet and didn’t even know it!”
I groaned. “Stop it. See what happens when you have too much wine? You think you’re Tina Fey.”
“Then you must be my Amy Poehler. Although I always thought we were more Rachel and Monica. You know, from Friends?” She launched into the show’s theme song. By the time I pulled up to the curb in front of her condo she’d sung the song half a dozen times.
“Alright TV Tunes, get out,” I teased.
“You’ll miss me when I’m gone,” she chirped, climbing out of the car. “Good night, my fair Lia. May your news days be filled with riveting stories.” She did a little dance up the walkway while singing another song. I shook my head, filled with adoration and love for the greatest friend a person could ever want.
CHAPTER TEN
“And this is where we do the weather.” Vance Winters spread his arms in a grand gesture. The evening anchor was giving my parents a tour of the newsroom during some down time on Tuesday afternoon. My dad walked over to the back wall where a long desk held several computer monitors. Weather graphics, maps, projections and all types of forecasting information flashed on the screens.
“It looks so involved,” my mom marveled. “All this just to say it’s going to be sunny and hot?”
“Don’t let Charlie hear you say that,” Vance laughed. “It’s an exact science with not so exact results at times. Mother Nature is a fickle beast.”
They strolled through the set, mindful not trip over the camera cables.
“This is pretty much it,” I said. “You’ve seen the newsroom, green room, control room and weather center. Hours of excitement, isn’t it?”
“Sure is,” my dad said, putting an arm around my shoulders. “And you’re in charge of all this?”
I laughed. “Not quite. I just try to keep these yahoos on time when we’re on the air.” I looked pointedly at Vance. “Easier said than done.”
“You don’t like my banter with Cynthia?”
“I love it. I just need you two to wrap it up and toss to the break the first time you hear me in your ears.”
“And that’s why this little spitfire is my favorite producer.” Cynthia chimed in, walking towards us. “You must be Lia’s parents. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Cynthia had the ability to talk without ever coming up for air. She shared about six stories in the two minutes it took all of us to walk back to my desk. Sydney popped up off her chair to say a quick hello before dashing to the edit suites. Tyler waved from the assignment desk, cradling a phone at his ear. And Wesley? Well, he stared at his monitor a bit too intently for anyone to risk interrupting him.
“Everyone seems so busy. We’re not keeping you from anything important, are we Lia?”
“No, mom. We just like to make it look like we have more work than we actually do,” I smiled. “Especially when there are visitors.”
“Thanks for showing us around, kiddo. Get back to work.” My dad hugged me and thanked Vance and Cynthia for taking time out of their day to give them a tour. I escorted them to the main lobby and said my goodbyes. They were off to Miami for a couple days before flying back to Connecticut.
I wasn’t settled at my desk for more than five minutes when the phone rang.
“Lia Meyers.”
“Lia, it’s Bruce. Can you come to my office real quick?”
“Sure.”
Tyler fell into step with me as I walked across the set. “Where are you off to?”
“Popping into Bruce’s office for a second.”
“Good times. Hey, what time is your friend’s party on Friday?”
“It starts at eight but you can show up whenever. We have the VIP lounge reserved for the entire night so we’ll just be hanging out there.”
“Cool.”
We went our separate ways at the end of the hallway. When I walked into Bruce’s office the atmosphere felt amiss, almost as though a dark cloud hovered just below the harsh fluorescent lights. He tapped a pen on the desk, staring into the computer monitor.
“Sorry to drag you in here like this, Lia.” He gestured for me to have a seat. “There’s a problem with one of the stories we aired last week. The one about the murder investigation in Lakeland?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“The way it was worded. The script referred to the suspect as the murderer, not the alleged murderer. His attorney called and was not pleased that we apparently tried and convicted his client already. He’s threatening to sue for slander. I’ve already said we’ll do an on-air apology but he’s not having any of it.” The tapping of the pen increased. “What makes it worse is the story aired that way during your show and then again on the morning show.”
I broke into a cold sweat. “I don’t usually miss something that important.”
“I know you don’t. Neither does Jeanie. Unfortunately, this isn’t going away. Do you remember who wrote it?”
“It was either Rene or Gwen.”
“Ok
ay.” He wrote something down in a notebook. “I’ll talk to them. Our legal team is being briefed on the situation. You may be called in again to give your side to the story. Don’t worry. You didn’t do anything malicious or intend for this to happen. Neither did the writers. In the meantime, I need you to have clean, tight shows with no errors in the writing. I’ll give final approval on all packages and scripts of this nature until further notice. Thanks, Lia.”
For the rest of my shift I was hyperaware of everything I read. It got to the point where I second-guessed every word that was written. I had a feeling I’d missed that mistake in the story because I’d been so distracted with my own personal crap. It made me angry. I wasn’t willing to risk my career or the integrity of the station because I was wrapped up in ridiculous drama.
Cynthia and Vance were in rare form as well. They harped on anything in the scripts that felt abnormal. For a fleeting moment I pitied Jeanie. She looked frazzled and stressed trying to make sure all the stories were factually correct and worded properly. Then again, if she didn’t spend so much time online shopping, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place.
“Lia,” she huffed, making a beeline to my desk. “You really need to make sure this doesn’t happen again. It’s bad enough we were late with a breaking story because of you last month. This pattern of irresponsibility won’t go unnoticed.”
Indignation boiled through my veins. How dare she throw something back in my face that wasn’t even my fault?
“If you’d like to have this conversation, there’s an empty conference room,” I seethed.
“No, we don’t need to have this conversation. Get your act together.”
“Or what? You’ll throw me under the bus for something else?”
Her face turned red as a tomato. “Your blasé attitude needs adjusting. I’m not going to look bad because you can’t do your job.”
The shrill tone of her voice echoed through the newsroom. Everyone carried on with their work but sat up a little straighter and perked their ears so as not miss anything. These theatrics didn’t intimidate me at all. If anything, they made her look petty and small in front of the staff. We all had at least one knife in our backs thanks to Jeanie’s own incompetence and penchant for blaming anyone but herself.
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