Just This Night

by Mari Madison

  “Okay, okay! Easy, girl. Look, here’s the deal. Turns out Dante has decided to turn himself in.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack, baby. Evidently he’s sick of being on the run and his mother harassing him. He’s ready to face the music. But before he does, he’s agreed to do one single interview to give his side of the story.”

  My heart was now slamming against my ribcage. “And that interview will be with . . . ?”

  “His favorite News 9 reporter,” Javier proclaimed. “Miss Elizabeth White.”

  “Oh my God. Oh my GOD! Javier you are my hero!” I jumped up from my desk and threw my arms around him. “You are the absolute best!”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. Try to restrain yourself,” he teased. “And listen—there is one little complication.”

  “What is it?”

  “He needs to do the interview tonight. ’Cause starting tomorrow morning his schedule is bound to be a bit full, hanging with the Feds and all.”

  I drew in a breath. “Okay. That’s fine.” I’d make it work. Hell, I would have made any complication work to get this story.

  “You’re going to need a photographer,” Javier reminded me. “Bruce is still out with the flu. I’d volunteer, but Tammy got tickets to Imagine Dragons tonight. They’re her favorite band. She would have my balls in a vise if I ditched her for work.”

  “I understand. It’s cool. I’m sure I can get someone. I mean, if I tell Richard what it’s for, I’m sure he’d rearrange half the newscast to make sure it happened.”

  Then again, did I really want to tell Richard beforehand? I mean, what if Dante got cold feet or the interview fell through? I wanted to be sure this time, so as not to disappoint.

  “You know, you might want to give Mac first dibs,” Javier suggested. “I mean, he shot the original interview, right? Which means he’s kind of owed the job. Trust me, we photogs hate being switched up mid-story. It makes it tougher for us to win our Emmys if it’s a collaboration deal.”

  I sighed. I knew he was right. Mac had been a part of this story from the start and it would be completely unfair to leave him out of the action now.

  Not to mention, I wasn’t horribly opposed to working with him one more time.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll give him a call. See if he’s willing to work tonight.”

  See if he’s willing to work with me.

  forty-seven

  MAC

  After yet another miserable day at work with a reporter who talked my ear off and was so vain she was practically late for her own live shot thanks to her primping in the mirror, I decided to swing by the florist on my way home to pick up half a dozen long-stem yellow roses, Victoria’s favorite.

  I’d gone to great lengths, all week long, to be the model husband, hoping that if I played the part, someday it would start feeling real. That the way I used to feel about our family would come raging back to me somehow and I would no longer have to only pretend that this was the life I wanted to live.

  That I didn’t wish I were coming home to Beth, instead.

  And so I’d gone through all the motions—doing everything I could possibly think of in the family man’s playbook. We’d made dinner together. We’d popped popcorn and watched old favorite movies. We’d gone to Target and spent way too much money on household goods we hadn’t realized we needed until we got there. I’d even moved back into the master bedroom.

  Not that anything had happened between the sheets, mind you. But we were in the same bed. Which was something I guess. Maybe someday I’d even stop getting nauseous every time she turned over and accidentally brushed her leg against mine.

  I stepped through the front door, roses in hand, trying a “Honey, I’m home!” on for size. But my voice fell flat and the words rang fake in my ears—I’d need to keep working on that one.

  Turned out it didn’t matter anyway; Victoria and Ashley weren’t even home. Sighing, I walked mechanically over to the sink and reached under it for a vase. Then I set the flowers in water and walked back over to the couch. I flipped on the television and searched for some mindless sports commentary to get sucked into.

  Before I could settle on a station, however, the door burst open and Ashley came rushing in, followed by a shopping bag–laden Victoria, who looked drained and stressed.

  I rose from the couch as any dutiful husband would and took her bags. “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “It was,” she said with a frown. “Until your credit card was declined.”

  “What?”

  She turned to me, her eyes flashing disdain. “Do you know how humiliating that is? To be in the middle of Neiman Marcus and have them turn you away? God, I thought I would die of embarrassment.”

  “How much did you spend before that?” I demanded, my voice rising, despite my best efforts. I caught Ashley’s surprised look out of the corner of my eye and lowered it again. “I mean, we talked about this. I don’t make a lot of money here. And we only have one salary to live on right now.”

  “Oh, that’s real nice,” she snapped back. “Just make me feel bad ’cause I gave up my job to be with my family. Sorry I’m such a financial drain on you.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” I raked a hand through my hair, frustrated. “It’s just, we can’t be making unnecessary purchases right now. You know, until things get settled.”

  “Well, I needed a new suit, didn’t I? I mean, if you want me to go to one of those interviews you set up for me.” She spit out the word interviews as if expelling poison.

  “Wait,” I said, “you were supposed to go to an interview today, right? The one I set up for you over at the FOX station?”

  She turned away, not meeting my eyes. “Come on, Jake. That was a news writer position.”

  “So?”

  “So I’m a reporter. A fucking Emmy-winning international correspondent!” she cried. “Do you think I’m going to go sit at some desk all day and write crappy copy for someone else to read?”

  “But you’d be back in the business. And it would only be until a real job opened up.”

  “What ‘real job’?” she demanded. “Jake, get your head out of your ass! San Diego is a shitty small news market. There’s never going to be a ‘real job’ for me here.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to reset my sanity. “Well, what do you suggest we do?”

  “I think it’s obvious. We need to go where the jobs are. I mean, Boston’s out, of course, thanks to the little scene you pulled there. But we could go to L.A. Or New York City.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Ashley is finally comfortable here. She has family here and she’s making friends. I’m not going to go and uproot her again.”

  “And I’m not going to sit here and rot in this pathetic, sand-infested small town just to appease some fucking four-year-old!”

  “Mommy? Are you okay?”

  I froze at the sound of Ashley’s voice. Lost in the argument, I’d almost forgotten she was still in the room. Now she looked up at us, from one to the other, her eyes wide and frightened.

  “Mommy, are you mad at Daddy?”

  “Your father is just being a little pigheaded right now, sweetie,” Victoria replied, glaring at me.

  Ashley broke out into giggles. “You’re a pig head, Daddy! Oink, oink! Pig head!”

  I couldn’t help a small smile. “Thank you, Ashley. That’s really sweet. Now, why don’t you go play in your room for a bit, okay? Mommy and Daddy need to talk.”

  “I don’t want to play by myself!”

  “I know. But just give us five minutes, okay? Then I’ll come in and play with you.”

  She stuck out her lower lip in a pout. “I want Beth to come play with me.”

  Oh God. Not now. I’d been trying and trying to get her to not mention the B name in front of Mommy. But Ashley just couldn’t take the hint. And now I could feel Victoria’s stare burning into me. One more thing that was all my fault.

  “Sorr
y, sweetie,” I said, trying to keep my tone neutral. “Beth can’t come over right now.”

  “But I want her to!”

  “I know, baby. But she can’t. Now please, just go to your room and play ponies. I’ll be there in one second.”

  Ashley gave me a defiant look, but eventually did as I requested, though not without attitude. She stomped to her room and slammed the door behind her. I watched her go, sighed, then turned back to Victoria, who was fixing herself a drink.

  “That girl needs some discipline, Jake,” she said. “She just walks all over everyone.”

  “She’s four, Victoria. That’s what four-year-olds do.”

  “She won’t be four forever. It’s time for her to know she’s not the boss in this family. She doesn’t get to have a say.”

  I opened my mouth, probably to say something I was going to regret later. Or be made to regret, at the very least. But before I could speak, I was saved by my cell phone. I pulled it from my pocket and glanced down at the caller ID, then froze.

  “Who is it?” Victoria demanded, trying to peer over my shoulder. I stepped forward.

  “It’s just work,” I told her. “Give me a minute, okay?”

  I walked out the front door, closing it behind me, then put the phone to my ear. “Hello?” I said.

  “Mac. Hi.”

  I gripped the phone, my heart beating a mile a minute as my ears registered the sweet ring of her voice, speaking my name. God I’d missed her so much. At that moment, if I could have climbed through the phone and kissed her, I probably would have.

  “Hi,” I said instead, trying to keep my voice steady. “How are you?”

  “Actually?” she replied. “I’m pretty great.”

  My heart skipped a beat and worry gnawed in my gut. Great? How could she possibly be great? Why wasn’t she miserable like me? Seriously, if she was about to tell me she’d met some new guy and that she was in love I was going to have a heart attack, right there on my front porch.

  “And why are you so . . . great?” I somehow managed to spit out.

  “Dante Alvarez!” she practically squealed. “He’s finally agreed to another interview.”

  Relief flooded me. “Oh,” I said. “That is great. Really great. I’m so happy for you.”

  “Happy for us, you mean,” she corrected.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Come on, Mac. This is our story! You were robbed the first time around as much as I was. And now we have another chance.”

  “But we’re not partners anymore, remember?”

  “Yeah, I know. But it’s not during our regular shift, so it doesn’t really matter, right? I’m not even going to tell Richard we’re doing it until it’s done. Then I’m going to surprise him with it.”

  I bit my lower lip, trying to justify it to myself, ignoring the warning bells going off in my head. She was right, of course. This was our story. We could do one more story together, right?

  “That sounds great,” I said. “When is this happening?”

  She paused for a moment. “Well, pretty soon, actually. Like . . . now-ish?”

  “Now-ish?”

  “I mean, as soon as you can get here. Tonight. You see, he’s supposed to turn himself in tomorrow to the Feds. So it pretty much has to be tonight.”

  “Okay . . .” My mind raced with possibilities. Sadie and Joe were down in Cabo for a wedding so they wouldn’t be able to watch Ashley. But maybe Victoria could . . . I mean, she had been watching her quite a bit over the last week or so. And she was her mother.

  “Hang on a second.” I pushed back open the door and stepped into the living room. Victoria was standing there, arms crossed over her chest, watching me. I felt my face heat, though there was no reason for it to. I was just trying to do my job. I wasn’t trying anything sneaky.

  “There’s breaking news,” I told her. “They need me to come in and work tonight.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “Would you mind watching Ashley while I’m gone? I shouldn’t be late or anything.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me, as if suspicious. Then, at last, she shrugged. “Sure,” she said. “It’s not like I have any earth-shattering plans tonight. Or ever, for that matter. And hey, we could definitely use the overtime.”

  I sighed, choosing to ignore that last little dig. “Great. Thank you.” I put the phone back to my ear. “Okay, I can do it,” I told Beth. “I’ll get in the car now and I’ll meet you at the station in about forty-five minutes. Does that work?”

  “That’s perfect,” she replied. She paused, then added, “Thank you, Mac. I really appreciate it. This story—well, you know better than anyone how much it means to me. How much it means to my career.”

  I could feel Victoria watching me, waiting. So I just smiled amicably. “No problem,” I said. “Whatever I can do to help.”

  forty-eight

  BETH

  No leather pants this time?”

  I looked up from my computer to see Mac walking over to my desk. My cheeks flushed and my heart started beating a little faster in my chest. God, he looked good. I hadn’t realized how much I truly missed seeing him until he stepped back into my line of sight. Those broad shoulders, those tight abs. Those beautiful blue eyes, that strong jaw, that hint of stubble whispering across his cheeks.

  “Nope,” I declared. “He’s going to have to deal with the real me this time.”

  “I’m pretty sure he’ll be okay with that,” Mac said, a small smile flashing across his face. “I mean, if he’s truly a red-blooded male, that is.”

  I rolled my eyes, trying to force back the smile that crept to my lips. I wanted to tell him he shouldn’t be saying things like that anymore. But at the same time I didn’t really want him to stop.

  This was going to be a long night.

  “Thanks for coming in,” I said, forcing myself to change the subject. “I feel bad that you got all the way home and had to come back to the station.”

  “It’s all good,” he said. “I was able to tuck Ashley into bed and Victoria’s staying with her while we do this.” He gave me a fond look. “I know this is important to you. And I’m glad I get to be a part of it.”

  I started to reply, but his phone rang, cutting me off. He reached into his pocket, checked the caller ID, then frowned, putting the phone to his ear.

  “What’s up?” he asked. “Is there a problem?”

  I watched as his brow furrowed. “Yes. Yes, it is. . . . What do you want me to say? We work together . . . It’s just for an interview and I’ll be right back home.” His grip tightened on the phone. “You told me you had nothing going on tonight, remember? That you were fine staying home?” He paused, listening. “Look, I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay? Yes . . . Yes . . . Okay . . . Thank you. I promise to make it up to you.”

  He stuffed the phone in his pocket, looking miserable. I swallowed hard. “Do you need to go?”

  “No.” He shook his head angrily. “It’s fine. Victoria just doesn’t trust me around you. Which I guess I deserve. But it’s fine. I’ll deal with it later.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

  “You’re my coworker. We’re on assignment. We’re not doing anything wrong.”

  “Right.” I sighed. “God, now I feel terrible.”

  “Don’t,” he scolded. “Let me deal with her. You need to concentrate on your interview. After all, this is it. Your big break. I’m not going to let her ruin it and neither should you.”

  “Okay,” I said, giving him my best fake smile. “It’s a deal.”

  We headed out to the truck and started the drive down to Chula Vista, back to the same warehouse we’d met Dante the first time around. There was a ton of late rush hour traffic this time, so it took a while to get there. And neither of us spoke much the entire trip. But still, it felt good, somehow, just to be sitting in the same car as him. Breathing the same air. Sharing the same space. I could smell him—that warm manly
scent that I’d originally been so attracted to back at the club on our very first night. And every so often I would glance over and take a peek at his face. It wasn’t all I wanted—but it was something. And right now it would have to be enough.

  Finally we pulled into the warehouse lot and Mac parked the truck on the side of the road. I peered out the windshield—this place looked even creepier now than it did during the daytime—and that was saying something. I sucked in a breath, firming my resolve.

  This was it. The next hour was going to change my life forever.

  Mac shot me a look. “Are you ready to do this?”

  I grinned, despite myself. “So ready!”

  He smiled back at me, flashing those perfect white teeth and a warmth rolled through my stomach. It was funny—it felt almost intimate, the two of us being here, in the dark, alone together. But not in a sexual way this time. More of a shared camaraderie. An us-against-the-world type of thing. And it served to give me a small spark of hope. Maybe we could never be together the way I wanted us to be. But we also cared too much about one another to let our friendship die.

  Mac exited the vehicle, walking around to the back of the truck to grab his gear while I touched up my makeup in the passenger side mirror. This interview would likely be played around the world on various stations and over the Internet. I wanted to look my best.

  But just as I had finished applying lipstick, a flash of light reflected in my mirror. A pair of headlights, I realized, swinging into the dark parking lot. I froze, a little nervous. Who could that be? Was it Alvarez, late for our meeting? But no . . . I furrowed my brows as the vehicle came into focus.

  It was a News 9 van.

  What the hell?

  I pushed my door open and stepped out of the truck, confusion worming its way through me. What was a News 9 van doing here, now? I hadn’t told anyone I was coming out here tonight to do the interview—not wanting to jinx the story if it didn’t end up happening. So who could this be?

  “Is that Javier?” Mac asked, also looking confused as we watched a man getting out of the driver’s seat.

  “Yeah,” I said, squinting at him. What was he doing here? “He was supposed to go to a concert tonight.” I frowned. “This is really strange. Hang on a second.”