by Mari Madison
She led me over to my table and started to turn away. Then she paused and I watched as she worried her lower lip, as if she wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure I’d be receptive. Finally, she turned back to me, an open, earnest expression written on her face.
“Look, just so you know—for the record, I mean—I didn’t do those things they said I did.”
I sighed. “Whatever. It’s fine. I really don’t even care anymore.”
“Well, I do,” she shot back, scrunching up her face in frustration. “I mean, I know we’ve had our differences, Beth. But do you really think I would go and do something like that to you? You could have died!”
“You didn’t know I was allergic.”
“Yes, I did. You told me, remember? You were joking that you hoped your sister stepped in an ant colony on her wedding day!”
I froze, my mind flashing back to that day. The day before the night with Mac that had ended up so crazily I’d pretty much forgotten everything else that had happened. But now it was all coming back to me. I’d made the joke, then I’d explained how the two of us were allergic to fire ants. So, yes, she would have totally known.
“But they found—”
“An empty jar of honey in my locker,” Stephanie finished for me. “And blue hair dye. Yes, I know all of that. But that doesn’t mean I did it.” She paused, then added, “I was set up.”
“By who?”
“Isn’t it obvious? The queen mother herself. Joy Justice.”
I stared at her, incredulous. Seriously, if she had told me this three hours before, I would have laughed in her face. Told her she was being ridiculous—that someone at Joy’s level would never bother to acknowledge someone at mine—never mind go out of their way to try to ruin my career.
You’ll be out of here before you know it, just like your little friend Stephanie.
But now, all I could think of was Joy fighting with Richard. Begging for her job. Crying her eyes out in her office alone. Looking at me with sheer hatred when I tried to step in to comfort her.
And in a few months—no one will even remember your name.
“How do you know?” I found myself asking.
Stephanie met my eyes. “Because she did the same thing to me.”
“What?”
Stephanie sat down at the table across from me, propping up her elbows and putting her face in her hands. “Why do you think I missed all of those live shots?”
I dropped my gaze, guilt swimming through my stomach. With everything that had happened, I’d never gotten a chance to ask her about that. Instead, I’d just chalked it up to her party girl lifestyle and believed it all.
But Stephanie had been a party girl since I’d first met her. And yet she’d always had the uncanny ability to crawl out of bed and kick her job’s ass no matter how much alcohol or how little sleep. Because as much as she loved the nightlife, she’d loved her job as a reporter more.
“It started happening right after Richard gave me a promotion,” Stephanie explained. “Just like with you, suddenly all my interviews were cancelling on me. My tapes were getting lost. My live shots were being switched around without me knowing it and I would miss my airtime.” She scowled—the memory obviously still painful. “Next thing I knew, I’d been demoted and you’d been promoted. And Joy was whispering in my ear that it wasn’t an accident. That you were behind it all.”
“She said it was me?”
“I know it sounds crazy now,” she admitted. “But at the time, I don’t know. Joy kept reminding me how ambitious you were, how badly you wanted to get off the morning show. How, as my roommate, you would have had access to my DayTimer on my computer.” She gave me a rueful look. “It wasn’t until later that I found out this kind of thing had happened before. To other young reporters over the years.”
My eyes widened. “She did this before?”
“You can go look at the records if you want. News 9 has had half a dozen young female reporters who started rising through the ranks, only to suddenly quit or get fired.”
“Wow.”
“In any case, I wanted to tell you. But I was afraid after how I’d kicked you out and destroyed all your stuff you weren’t going to believe anything I said. And then the ant thing happened. I tried to tell Richard what was going on, but he refused to listen. He just told me I needed to leave before he decided to call the cops. I couldn’t risk having an arrest on my record—I’d probably never work again.” She looked around the restaurant. “And now, here I am.”
I swallowed hard, not sure what to think, what to say. Should I believe her? While it certainly was a crazy story, at the same time it made a sick sort of sense. Joy must have been feeling threatened about her job for some time now, knowing her days were numbered. And so she decided to take out the competition—any way she could.
“Look, Beth,” Stephanie continued, “I’m not saying I’m totally innocent here. And I know I’ve ruined our chance of ever being friends. I just wanted to . . . set the record straight, I guess. And to tell you to be careful.”
I nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
She rose to her feet. “I’d better get back to work. My manager is giving me the evil eye. And losing two jobs in a month—well, that would be a record, even for me!” She gave a brittle laugh.
“Stephanie . . .” I found myself calling back to her. She turned around, looking at me questioningly.
“Yeah?”
“Do you . . . want me to talk to Richard? Tell him what really happened? Maybe you can get your job back. I mean, if you really didn’t do those things, there’s no reason you should have been fired.”
She gave me a small smile. “Thank you,” she said. “It means a lot that you would offer. But honestly? I’m kind of enjoying this little break. Maybe I’ll want to go back to TV someday. But right now? This feels right. I’m actually, well, happy. For the first time since I can remember.” She laughed. “Who knows? Maybe this was the life I was meant to live. At least for right now.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “But if you change your mind, let me know.”
“I will.” She paused, then added, “And I will pay you back, too. For all the stuff I destroyed. It may take me a while to save up. But I can start giving you installments every payday. Until I’m caught up.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate that. And no rush, really.”
“And . . . if you’re ever in the neighborhood? Well, you know where I live. And how much wine I keep stocked in my fridge. Anytime News 9 gets you down, feel free to stop by and I’ll get you plastered. It’s the least I can do.”
I nodded. “I will absolutely do that.” And I absolutely meant it.
forty-five
MAC
Got a minute?”
I looked up from cleaning my camera to see Beth hovering in the doorway of the photographer’s lounge and my heart flipped on its ass. Not surprising, of course. It had been wrenching so painfully every time I laid eyes on her these days that I was half-convinced I was going to give myself a coronary by week’s end.
“For you, I have all the minutes,” I said, putting down my camera. I forced a smile to my lips and beckoned for her to sit down.
“Actually . . .” She shifted from foot to foot. “Do you know of anywhere more private? It’s kind of . . . personal.”
I swallowed hard. Now my heart was pumping furiously. And I was pretty sure my hands were shaking, too. Forcing them behind me, I rose to my feet. “I have the key to the live truck.”
She nodded. “That’ll work.”
She turned and started toward the back exit. I followed, warning sirens going off in my head. Not that I had any doubts her intentions were anything but innocent. I just wasn’t sure I could handle being in such close proximity to her, all alone, and not do something I was going to regret.
My eyes involuntarily raked over her body. She was dressed casually today, in a pair of dark rinse skinny jeans and boots paired with a simple white tun
ic sleeveless shirt. It wasn’t a tight shirt—in fact, if anything it was loose and flowy. The kind of shirt she might have chosen if we were having dinner at an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean before taking a moonlit walk on the beach.
Not that we would ever be doing that. Or anything else for that matter.
I closed my eyes for a minute, sucking in a breath, which nearly caused me to walk into a wall. I saved myself last second and she didn’t seem to notice, thankfully.
God, this was torture. Pure, unadulterated torture. To be in the same room, to breathe the same air, to look at her and not be able to touch her. It’d been a week since I’d run my fingers through her silky hair. Since I’d kissed the hollow spot at her throat that she always found so ticklish. A week since I’d held her in my arms, looked her in the eyes, told her I loved her and that I was never going to let her go.
But I had let her go.
And now, even though she was still here, she was gone.
While I remained in a living hell. Sisyphus rolling his immense boulder uphill, only to watch it roll back down so I could start all over again. Day in and day out. Rinse and repeat. My life stretched out before me, stark, bleak, joyless.
And yet, how it had to be.
We reached the live truck and climbed inside. There were two chairs in the back and she took one, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap. Summoning up all my drained willpower, I took the other, then looked at her questioningly.
“So,” she said. “Some interesting developments since I’ve seen you last.”
I listened as she told me. About what she’d overheard with Richard and Joy. About her encounter with Stephanie later that night. I listened to it all, not interrupting once, though by the end my hands had curled into fists, the skin of my knuckles straining white over bone.
“Sorry to burden you with this,” she said after finishing. “I didn’t know . . . who else to tell.”
“I’m glad you told me,” I said earnestly. “You should never be afraid to tell me anything.”
She dropped her gaze, her eyelashes curtaining her beautiful eyes. “Thanks,” she said. “I appreciate that. More than I probably should.”
“So are you going to go to Richard?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” She looked up. “I mean, Joy’s done. Her contract hasn’t been renewed.” She paused, then added, “Is it weird that I feel kind of bad for her? I mean, she tried to get me fired. She almost killed me. And yet . . . somehow . . . I don’t know. Just seeing her crying in her office, knowing everything she’s worked so hard for will now be stripped away?” She shrugged helplessly. “I just feel bad.”
“That’s because you’re a good person,” I told her. Then I sighed. “God, every day I realize a bit more just how toxic this business can be. It’s depressing.”
“And scary as hell,” Beth confessed. “I mean, I’m on the same path, right? I’m going down the same road? Trying to get the best stories, the most airtime. But what’s my end game here? In thirty years, what will I have to show for all of this?”
“You will have whatever you want to show,” I told her firmly. “Joy made a choice to define herself by her on-air persona. But you’re under no obligation to do the same. You can be more than your job. You can have a life outside of work, you can do amazing things. And, at the same time, you can still be a good reporter. In fact, my guess is you’ll be a better one, if there’s more to you than just being on air.”
“I know you’re right,” she said with a small smile. “It’s just hard to remember, sometimes.”
“Then I will have to keep reminding you.”
She sighed, for a moment looking very sad. Then she shook her head and looked up at me. “I’m sorry. Here I am, going on and on about my own stupid life. But how are things going with you? I know we’ve spent a lot of time together. But we haven’t really . . . talked, you know? I mean, not that we have to,” she added quickly. “If you don’t want to talk, I understand, of course. I mean, I just thought, I’m just wondering . . .” She looked up at me. “How are you? Are you okay?”
I nodded stiffly, the concern in her voice almost doing me in. I sucked in a breath, my mind racing with what I could tell her. But at last, it was the naked truth that spilled from my lips.
“I’m not good,” I told her. “In fact, I’m pretty awful.”
Her eyes moistened. “Oh, Mac . . .”
I shook my head. “It’s just like . . . I don’t know . . . too much. Too soon. You know? Like, she wants to just jump right back in right where we left off, as if nothing ever happened. But I can’t do it. I have all these conflicted feelings still. About what she did. About how she left. About . . . well, how I still feel about you. I mean, all we shared, all we’ve done—I can’t just turn that off like a switch. Even if it would be for the best.”
I caught her trying to hide a wince. Then she squared her shoulders and set her chin. “You have to,” she told me. “You have to find a way. You can’t keep living like this. This kind of half life. It’s not fair to anyone. To her. To Ashley. To you. If you want to make your family work, you have to put in your full effort.”
“How can I? When all I can think about is you?”
She drew in a breath. “Look, Mac. Maybe we need . . . some time apart. Working together, side by side. It’s not making any of this any easier.”
I stared at her, her words sending icy fear sliding down my back. My mind snapping to a vision of a world without her in it. Yes, it would be easier not to see her every day, to be tortured by her nearness. But at the same time, it was such an exquisite torture—and I didn’t know how I would live without it.
Her expression softened. “Believe me, it’s not what I want, either. But at the same, it kind of is. I have to move on, too, you know. Find that life you were talking about, outside of work. And I don’t know how I can manage something like that when I’m still in such close contact with you.”
I hung my head. “You’re right,” I said. “I know you’re right. I mean, not forever. But just . . . for a time, maybe.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice taking on an eagerness that matched mine. “Just a time. A time to cool off. To reassess. To give your marriage a real, true chance to work. I mean, you loved this woman once, Mac. You gave her a ring. You fathered a child with her. Maybe you can find that again, deep down. If you really give it a chance.”
Her voice broke and, along with it, my heart. I knew how much it must have hurt her to say those words—to step aside and take herself out of the running. I knew she loved me. As much as I loved her. But she also respected me enough—and respected my promise to my daughter enough—to let me go.
“I love you,” I blurted out, unable to stop myself. “I will always love you.”
She nodded and I caught the tears leaking from the sides of her eyes. “No more than I love you,” she said. “Which is why it has to be like this.”
forty-six
BETH
And so it was done. I went to Richard and confessed everything. About my ill-fated relationship with Mac and why it would be better for everyone involved if they assigned me someone new. The whole time I was telling the story, I was blushing furiously. I didn’t want to be the problem reporter. And I’d already caused so much drama in my short time at News 9. I was half-afraid he’d fire me on the spot.
But, as I’d learned over the past days, some things were more important than career. And to me, Mac’s happiness was one of them.
Richard wasn’t pleased. But he wasn’t all that shocked either. It wasn’t as if I was the first reporter at News 9 to fall for her photographer. If these walls could talk, he said, they’d have a lot more scandalous stories than mine to tell. Still, he added, he would prefer I keep my love life off the clock from this point forward. After all, it was technically against company policy, not that it was usually enforced. Moreover, it was a pain in the ass to switch around peoples’ schedules when the romance died.
; Which was fine with me. After two failed relationships in so many months, the last thing I wanted was to go on the hunt for round three.
So I got a new photographer, with Richard hedging his bets by assigning me a gay guy named Bruce who was old enough to be my grandfather. No chance of a hot hook-up there, despite how dapper Bruce usually looked in his polka-dotted bow ties!
And life went on.
I had considered telling Richard about Joy as well, but in the end, decided against it. Her last day was Friday and the station was planning a big send-off party for her. There was going to be a special broadcast even, featuring a montage of all the big stories she’d covered over the years. The newspapers had all run articles about her legacy and the mayor was giving her a lifetime good service award for all she’d done for the town. If I spoke up now, her entire legacy would be tarnished forever. Even after all she’d done, I couldn’t bring myself to do that to her. She’d be gone soon enough and it would all be over.
I was at my desk the Thursday before the big Joy send-off, putting together the day’s story assignment when Javier came sauntering up.
“So,” he said, his face stretched into a wide smile, “how much do you love me?”
I looked up, my pulse skipping a beat. “Depends,” I said. “Are you about to tell me what I want you to tell me?”
It’d been so long now since his original email about Alvarez agreeing to be interviewed, I’d pretty much given up on the whole thing. Instead, I’d been working on finding other big stories that would be just as compelling. But now . . .
“Depends. If you want me to tell you that Peeps are the best candy ever or that The Matrix was more than one movie—you are sadly still in delusional land. But if it’s about our favorite hacker . . .” He grinned again, then lifted his first. I bumped it with my own and he grabbed a chair and pulled it up to my desk.
“Come on!” I cried. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”