by Mari Madison
At least not for us.
forty-two
BETH
Thirty minutes on the treadmill, combined with an obscene amount of weight-lifting at the gym and yet I was still tense and miserable. Whoever said exercise was great stress relief should be hanged as a liar. Sure, maybe it helped with your run-of-the-mill tension headache, but the kind of pressure bottled up at this point was practically nuclear powered. And no amount of stepping, spinning, or weight-lifting was going to make it go away.
It’d been only a week since I’d met Mac on the pier. But it already felt like a lifetime. And while I’d tried everything I could think of to help exorcise the pain—from copious amounts of alcohol to retail therapy to even throwing myself back into work—it only seemed to be growing worse each and every day. I tried to tell myself it was just another failed relationship, not the end of the world. And not even a substantial one at that. Hell, I’d dated Ryan for years and had somehow managed to get over him. With Mac, we’d been official for less than twenty-four hours. Which meant I should have had no problem picking myself up, dusting myself off, and moving on.
But not so much.
Part of the problem, perhaps, lay in the fact that the object of my doomed affection was never more than an arm’s distance away, thanks to our continued working situation. In the truck, on the way to shoots, the air became so thick with tension, sometimes it hurt to even breathe. And any casual conversation that might spark between us felt like knives stabbing me in the gut without mercy.
It would have been much easier if I could have hated him. For leading me on, then dumping me flat to get back with his ex. And sometimes I could almost talk myself into feeling like that. But then I’d catch sight of the pain in his eyes—pain that mirrored my own. And I knew he didn’t want this arrangement any more than I did. That if he had his way I’d be in his arms and he would never let me go.
But that was impossible. The risk of losing his baby girl was too great. I understood this. I completely supported it, even. But all the support and understanding in the world could not stanch the open, bleeding wound in my heart.
After a quick shower I contemplated going back to my apartment, then decided against it. It would be empty, I was sure—Piper was always working these days. And I had no interest in collapsing in front of the TV, alone with my misery. I might as well head to work instead, to burn a little midnight oil and try to distract myself from everything. Because of some preemptive sports programming there was no eleven P.M. newscast tonight and so I knew the place would be deserted. A perfect chance to throw myself into work and forget the world for a few blissful hours.
Sure enough, the place was practically empty as I walked in, save for a glowing light under Richard’s office door. Which wasn’t a bad thing, I told myself. Maybe at some point he’d emerge and find me hard at work. That ought to earn me a few brownie points, right?
I sat down at my desk, going through my emails. I was deleting so fast I almost missed the one from Javier. I hadn’t heard from him since he’d promised to try to track down Alvarez for me and had pretty much given up that it was going to happen. But now, as I dug back into my trash folder to retrieve the email, I crossed my fingers I’d been wrong.
Heart pounding, I opened the email, scanning it quickly, my eyes widening as I digested its contents.
He’d talked to his abuela.
His abuela had talked to Alvarez’s mom.
She’d told her son he needed to call me. He needed to tell his side of the story.
And Alvarez had evidently agreed.
“YES!” I cried, jumping from my seat, raising my hand in the air in triumph before sitting back down, a little sheepishly. Still, it was all I could do not to break out into cartwheels across the newsroom floor.
Suddenly my no good, very bad, terrible week was not so awful after all. I could get a new interview. I could have another chance. And this time there was no one to stand in my way.
My personal life might remain a disaster, but I’d be a superstar at work!
I had to tell Richard. He was going to be so excited!
I rose from my seat again, deciding there was no time like the present. But before I could reach out and knock on his door to announce myself and my good news, an angry voice on the other side caused me to pause.
“But why?”
I frowned. Was that Joy Justice? What was she doing here, on a night when there was no newscast to anchor?
“Come on, Joy. We have already discussed this ad nauseam,” Richard’s voice broke in. “If you want to keep rehashing it, I suggest you make an appointment to see me tomorrow. Right now, it’s late. And I, for one, would like to go home.”
Something uneasy prickled inside me. I was pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to be hearing this. But what should I do? Go sit back at my desk? It wasn’t like I wouldn’t be able to hear them from there.
“Screw your appointments. I’m not leaving. Not until you give me a damn good explanation for why you’re turning me out on the streets.”
Wait, what?
Okay, now I couldn’t help but tune in. I’d never heard Joy sound so upset. She was always so poised, so polished, so above all the bullshit. At least that’s what I had always assumed.
“Relax, drama queen. It’s not as if you’re suddenly some homeless waif. The severance package the station’s offering you should be more than enough to keep you in the lifestyle you’re accustomed to.”
My jaw dropped. Severance package? That meant . . . Oh my God.
They were firing Joy Justice?
Joy had worked at News 9 for decades. She’d started as a lowly production assistant, like Piper, and had worked her way up to main anchor. She was practically an institution in this place. Newsroom royalty. I couldn’t imagine the newscast without her leading it.
But then I remembered Richard, after she’d turned down the Alvarez piece. He’d called her dead weight. He’d said the powers that be weren’t happy.
“I’ll sue you. I’ll tell the world you let me go because of age discrimination.”
“Go right ahead. It’ll never hold up in court. I’ve got stacks of documentation showing your habitual lateness, your on-air errors, your fights with the staff. I have viewer surveys showing they don’t like anything about you.” He sighed. “Look, Joy. You were the only decent fish in my pond for many years. But now we’ve got a lot of talent coming through the ranks and I’m not going to apologize for that. My job is to put on the best damn newscast I can every night. And that’s it. So I’m sorry. We’ve decided to go a different direction and that’s final. Your last newscast is Friday.”
Joy burst from the office without warning. I tried to duck, but there was no time and the anchor’s fiery eyes zeroed in on my own. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but found I couldn’t utter even a single intelligible word. Not that it mattered; Joy was already halfway across the newsroom, taking great strides to reach her office in record time.
I watched her go, pity worming through my stomach. What must she be feeling like right now? To have her career suddenly stripped away without warning. Sure, to some, a job was just a job, but to Joy—it was her whole life. She’d been on TV for thirty-something years. She’d never gotten married and had raised her only daughter on her own. In short, her viewers were her family. Her station was her home.
And now she was being dumped like so much garbage.
It wasn’t surprising, I supposed. All over the country, experienced journalists, who were older and drew more expensive salaries, were being replaced by younger, hipper—and cheaper—counterparts. But the fact that her experience was not unique didn’t make it any less devastating.
Forcing myself to my feet, I headed down the newsroom, until I reached the anchor’s office. I stood in the doorway, clearing my throat uneasily. Joy looked up, her eyes red and blotchy. Tears had streaked her makeup, giving her the look of a rabid raccoon.
“What do you want?” she demanded,
her face twisting in ugly rage.
I bit my lower lip, shuffling from foot to foot. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overhear. I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise.”
“What does it matter?” Joy asked, waving me off. “Everyone’s going to know soon enough anyway.”
“I guess.” I drew in a breath. “But for the record? I think they’re insane to let you go. You’re so amazing and talented. Ever since I got here, I’ve looked up to you. I’ve wanted to be you.”
“Yeah, well, congratulations. Looks like you’ll soon get your chance.”
I winced at the pain I heard in her voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted you to know that I think you’re great. An inspiration, even.” I paused, then added, “I promise you now, if I ever do get the honor of trying to fill your shoes, I will do my best to live up to the standards you’ve set.”
I’d meant it as a compliment. I really did admire her—and had since I’d first started at News 9. Her dedication to her craft, her commitment to ethical journalism, her empathy for those in need—I respected the hell out of this woman’s career. So I was quite taken aback when Joy narrowed her eyes on me, giving me a death look.
“You little shit,” she growled. “You dare come into my office and try to patronize me?”
I took a step back, startled. “That wasn’t what I meant—”
“You girls all think you’re such superstars. But you’re nothing. You’re no one. Just the bimbo of the week. Utterly replaceable.” She shook her head. “You’ll be out of here before you know it, just like your little friend Stephanie. And in a few months—no one will even remember your name.”
I swallowed hard, feeling the tears sting at the corners of my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone,” I stammered, backing out of the office. “I didn’t mean to . . . I’m sorry.”
I turned to flee the newsroom, I couldn’t stay there anymore. I’d have to tell Richard my good news about Alvarez another day. Good news that suddenly didn’t seem quite as exciting and important as it had moments before.
After all, at the end of the day, it was just another news story. Even if it did allow me to rise to fame and recognition—what would it matter in the end?
Joy had once risen, too. And now she’d crashed back down to earth. And every story she’d covered, every interview she’d done, all her life’s work—did it really mean anything in the end?
You’ll be out of here before you know it. And no one will even remember your name.
forty-three
MAC
And . . . a thousand and one stories later . . .”
I looked up from the couch to see Victoria emerging from Ashley’s bedroom, a weary smile on her face. She walked over to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine.
“That girl is a master when it comes to bedtime negotiations,” she added after taking a sip. “I’m surprised you don’t have major law firms recruiting her.”
“Well, she still has to take the bar.” I snorted. “And, you know, learn to read.”
“Which I’m sure will be any day now.” Victoria laughed. “She’s got all her books memorized at this point. Such a smart kid. Not to mention ridiculously adorable. Not that I’m biased or anything.”
She walked over to the couch and sat down beside me, causing my entire body to stiffen. I forced myself to take a deep breath and grab my own drink. I was pretty sure I’d been single-handedly keeping Jack Daniels in business over the last week and this evening was already looking to be the start of another bender.
I could feel Victoria staring at me and I turned to look at her, hating the fondness I saw on her face. “You’ve done a great job with her, Mac,” she said. “Really great.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve done what I could.”
“You’ve done more than that. I mean, seriously, you’re like father of the year.” She sighed. “While I’m Mommie Dearest.”
“Ashley loves you,” I replied automatically. “And I know she’s happy you’re back.”
It was true—Ashley had been over the moon since the morning her mother had returned. And I had to grudgingly admit Victoria did seem to be making an effort to make up for lost time. She’d taken Ashley on after-school trips to the park, the beach, even the zoo. And when I’d get home from work, Ashley would be full of stories about all the fun she’d had with Mommy.
My girl had her mother back. She was in heaven.
While I remained languishing in a living hell.
Victoria let out a heavy sigh. “I just wish I could make you happy, too,” she said sadly.
“I’m fine.”
“I think we should go to counseling.”
“If you’d like.”
“Come on, Mac!” she cried. “Talk to me! Scream at me! Tell me I’m a horrible person and you hate my guts. Just don’t sit there, quietly, looking as if you want me to leave.”
I bit my lower lip. “I don’t want you to leave. But, Vic, this is going to take some time. What you did to us . . . How you left us . . .” I shook my head. “Do you understand what it’s been like? Being a single dad? Trying to provide for her? Not just materially–but emotionally, too. Do you know how many nights she woke up screaming for you? And I had to make excuses as to why you weren’t there?”
She hung her head. “What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing. I don’t want you to say anything. Just . . . understand how difficult this is for me. And you coming back does not suddenly make everything instantly okay!”
“This is about that girl, isn’t it?” Victoria broke in, narrowing her eyes at me. “That’s why you’re holding back—you’re still thinking about her.”
I closed my eyes, my heart panging at the mention of Beth. “This has nothing to do with her.”
“Don’t lie to me. I can see the look in your eyes. You thought you were so high and mighty, judging me for my affair. And then you turn around and have one of your own.”
I stared at her. “How is that even remotely the same? You left us. I thought you were gone forever. What did you want me to do? Stay celibate for the rest of life until you decided to waltz back in?”
“No. I didn’t. Which is why I’m not judging you for breaking our vows of marriage. But now I’m back. And I want us to be a family again. For Ashley’s sake . . . and our own.”
She laid a hand on my forearm. It felt like ice. “Mac, you loved me, once upon a time. And I know I didn’t prove worthy of that love. But now I’m back. And I’m asking for a second chance. We made vows, you and I. To be together in good times and bad. And I know it’s been bad. But now it has the chance to be good. If you can just let it. If not for me, do it for Ashley. Doesn’t she deserve to have a family?”
“Yes,” I said, abruptly rising to my feet. “She does. Which is why you’re still here. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to bed.”
Victoria rose. She reached out, placing a hand on my groin. “Can I join you?” she asked with a small smile. “I bet I could make you forget all about what’s-her-name.”
I grabbed her hand and jerked it away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I started toward the spare bedroom, where I’d been crashing since she’d returned. I could feel her stare, burning into my back.
“Come on, Mac,” she called after me. “Just give me a chance!”
I closed the door behind me, not bothering to respond. Then I collapsed onto the bed, sticking my head in the pillow, which still smelled like Beth’s hair. It was, at the end of the day, all I had left of her.
And it didn’t seem nearly enough.
forty-four
BETH
Lost in my troubled thoughts, I found myself taking the exit to the beach, still not wanting to go home. The ocean had always been soothing to me, calming my nerves, and making my problems seem less important in the grand scheme of things.
Not to mention a big plate of fish and chips wouldn’t go amiss right about now. Since seeing Mac
on the pier, I hadn’t had much appetite. But suddenly I found myself ravenous.
Thankfully my favorite seafood place was nearly empty, save for a sweet old couple sitting by the window. I watched them for a moment while waiting to be brought to my table, my heart aching a little at how comfortable they looked together. How long had they been with one another? And how did they manage to make it work? Could I ever hope for this kind of long-term loving relationship with another person? Or was I doomed to forever be choosing the wrong guy? The guy who always ended up choosing someone else in the end.
“Inside or out?”
I looked up at the hostess addressing me, my eyes widening in surprised recognition.
“Stephanie?” I cried, before I could stop myself. “What are you doing here?”
My former roommate’s face flushed. “I work here now,” she informed me, sounding a little defensive. “Got the job about a week ago.”
“Wow . . . I had no idea.” I wasn’t sure what to say.
She shrugged. “It’s not that bad, really. Tips are good. The bartenders are cute. We all go out after work sometimes. And you can’t beat the view,” she added, gesturing to the ocean stretching out into the distance. “Not to mention I’m finally free of the News 9 drama machine. That, in and of itself, is worth everything.”
“That’s cool,” I said, not sure what else to say. I tried to remind myself that this girl was not my friend. She’d destroyed my stuff, had tried to get me fired from work, hell, she’d almost accidentally killed me. For all I knew, even now, she was staring at me, contemplating poisoning my dinner. I should have been running from the restaurant as fast as my legs could take me.
Yet something inside me told me to stay. She had been my friend once. And looking at her now, it was hard to see the vindictive monster she’d been. Just a sad, defeated girl who’d let her jealousy cause her to lose every dream.
You girls all think you’re such superstars. But you’re nothing. You’re no one. Just a flavor of the week. Utterly replaceable.