RECKLESS - Part 1

by Alice Ward

  We’d barely even made it outside before she started sputtering, “Andrea! D-don’t you –how could you…? You know you just—”

  “I just what, Becca?” I seethed through my teeth as I continued to drag her down the sidewalk. “Told some self-righteous jerk that he isn’t the God’s gift to women he thinks he is.”

  Becca’s arm fell from my grasp as she planted her feet. I turned to find her head falling forward, shoulders slumped, mouth flapping. “That’s Jace Richardson. H-he-he is a god!”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, my face scrunched in confusion, hands on my hips.

  Becca’s eyes somehow managed to grow wider; I was starting to worry they might pop right out of her head. “Jace Richardson? You know, from Reckless?”

  I shook my head, still confused.

  “The band you’re supposed to interview this weekend?”

  Someone must have turned up the heat outside because my forehead was suddenly covered in beads of sweat. “Oh my… that Jace Richardson? You’re sure?”

  Becca was nodding her head so furiously, she looked like a bobble head on crack. “Yeah, as in, lead singer and guitarist. As in, campus idol.” She let that sit with me for a minute, silently watching my reactions of doubt morph to anger and then to fear as it all sunk in.

  “I—Oh my God, Becca! How could you let me make a complete fool of myself like that?” I asked, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk in front of her as the panic started to settle in, grinding a hole through my gut. “I—how am I supposed to do an interview with him after that fiasco? I could lose my position on the paper if this goes badly. Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Huh,” she huffed. “Like I could have stopped you. You were a woman on a freaking mission in there, chick. What was the problem with him paying for our drinks anyway?”

  “It wasn’t that… it was the way he—oh, what does it matter? I’ve done made a mess.” I stopped pacing to turn and look at Becca, arms falling to my side in defeat. “What am I going to do?”

  “For starters,” she said, lifting a pierced eyebrow at me. “You could go in there and apologize.”

  I shook my head, slowly at first, and then more violently as I started to back away. “Oh, no. I am not apologizing to him. Not after his disgusting display of sexism. Like I can’t pay for my own stuff? Like he can just—”

  An angry growl ripped through my throat as I turned on my heel to storm down the street. I needed to get out of there, clear my head and figure out how I would clean up the mess I’d just made. It was just like me to open my mouth and insert my foot in the worst way humanly possible.

  “Hey, wait up!” Becca called from behind me, her feet pounding away as she jogged after me. “Sheesh, you can move when you’re pissed.”

  “I’m more than pissed,” I seethed through clenched teeth. “That man might have just cost me everything.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “The only thing I can do,” I barked, my pace quickening with raw determination. “I’m going to talk to Marcus and try to see if someone else can cover it.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Andrea, I’m sorry,” Marcus said, folding his hands in his lap as he leaned back in his office chair. “There’s no one else that can cover this.”

  On the other side of the metal office desk, sitting at the edge of my seat, I grasped for straws, trying to find a way out of the ridiculous assignment. “What about Steve? Can’t he do it?”

  Marcus pursed his lips, drew in a heavy breath, and then released it with a heavy sigh. “You know he’s not ready for the most important column in the paper. I know this isn’t what you’re used to, but you’re an exceptional reporter and I need you on this story.”

  “But—”

  Eyes closed and head tilted to the side, he raised a hand, cutting me off. “No buts. You cover the story or you no longer have a position.”

  “All because I won’t cover a rock concert?” The words came out accusatory and high-pitched.

  Marcus gave me a pained, sympathetic smile. “This is more than just a concert, Andrea. It’s about stepping up, fulfilling your duties as a top journalist, taking the stories you’re needed for.”

  I opened my mouth to speak again, but quickly shut it when he narrowed his eyes at me.

  “Look at it this way,” Marcus said, splaying his hands out over his desk. “If we fail to print the entertainment column the week after a major campus event, the paper loses readers. We lose readers, we go under. We go under, no one has a position. I need you to cover this.”

  I wanted to argue, stomp my feet, give him my resignation and walk out. But I didn’t do any of those things. I just listened, a painful lump forming in my throat as he continued, his eyes no longer on me but studying his hands instead.

  “The political column just isn’t as much of a point of interest as it used to be. I’m sorry, Andrea. Just… cover the story.” He stood, making it clear our conversation was over.

  That’s when I knew: my column was being pulled from the publication schedule.

  I probably should have seen it coming; I’d been covering fewer stories the past year, the debate columns I used to do every week had all but ceased, and I’d only been given a small section to cover the campus elections that year. But I’d clung to my little piece of the paper with desperation, and I think Marcus had allowed me to, simply because he really had felt sorry for me.

  But things were changing.

  There was nothing more for either of us to say, nothing more I could do. It was either tolerate a man that made my blood boil and cover the damn story or lose my position at the paper.

  Since there was no way I was going to let some egotistical jerk come between me and my future, I kept my mouth shut and stood and slowly slid my chair in before turning to leave.

  “Oh, Andrea?” Marcus said softly as I placed my hand on the door knob. I paused but didn’t turn back around; if I had, he would have seen the tears welling in my eyes, the ones that threatened to spill at any second. “Try to have fun out there. You can’t write an entertainment feature when you’re miserable.”

  A slow, deep breath lifted my shoulders, giving me at least a look of dignity as I left the office. But the truth was, I was biting at the inside of my cheek, holding back a sob and a stream of angry words that just begged to be let loose. Since my mouth had gotten me into enough trouble already, I held onto those words like my life depended on it; in all reality, it probably did.

  But I couldn’t put all the blame on myself. Jace Richardson definitely had a part to play in my current circumstances, and I was going to let him know exactly what I thought of his celebrity complex once this was all over. He was going to regret ever laying eyes on me.

  I’d make certain of it.

  ***

  “So?” Becca asked as I stormed through the front door.

  “So, nothing,” I groaned, flopping down on my bed and throwing an arm over my bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked face.

  “He’s going to make you cover it?”

  “More than that,” I paused to take a deep breath, hoping to stuff the anguish, but a sob came anyway. “If I don’t do it, I lose my position.”

  Becca was on my bed, lying next to me, in milliseconds. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Andrea.”

  “I just—I thought maybe I could hold onto my column until I left. After that, they could do whatever they wanted with it,” I confessed, the tears starting to roll down my cheeks again.

  I’d managed to hold onto my hysterics until making it a safe distance from the main building, but once the tears had started, they wouldn’t stop. I was a wreck.

  “Hey, it’s only for a few months, right?”

  I nodded from underneath my arm.

  “And you only have to cover the band this weekend, right? What happens after that?”

  That was the thing; I didn’t know. Marcus hadn’t said whether or not I’d be taking over the entertainment column for
good. I couldn’t imagine that happening, not when Stacey, our regular entertainment reporter, did such a phenomenal job.

  But then where would I go? What would I cover?

  My sobs came harder. Just months left of school and I was going to lose the one thing that mattered to me the most—my ticket into a top news column. Sure, I could use my almost four years of experience to land a journalism position, but what would I say when they asked why I hadn’t finished out my last year at the paper? That my column sucked and just wasn’t what everyone on campus wanted to read?

  That’d go over real well.

  Becca curled up to me on my bed, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “Oh, sweetie. It’s going to be okay,” she said, rubbing her hand over my arm. “We’ll sort this all out.”

  I wanted to say that we wouldn’t, that it was all over, that my whole life was finished… but I was crying too hard to speak.

  “Hey, how about we go grab a drink? Or some cake?”

  I just shook my head at her, the tears still streaming in thick rivers under my arm and down my cheeks.

  “Shopping?” she offered, not ready just yet to leave me wallowing in my pit of despair. “You’ll need something to wear this weekend.”

  I sniffled and shook my head. The last thing I wanted to think about was the concert. I was going to have to play nice with Mr. God Complex when I wanted nothing more than to punch him in the mouth, knock out a few of those perfect teeth and see how much the girls chased after him then. Of course, my luck, he’d find some way to use his semi-toothless state to his advantage.

  “Okay.” I felt the bed shift as she got up. “You stay here. I’m going to grab some essentials.”

  I heard the door shut quietly a few seconds later. I knew what the essentials meant—a sappy romance movie, ice cream, and wine; the only three things that could ever make a gal feel better in a time such as this. Maybe that’s why, when my phone rang a few minutes later, I hit the silence button.

  I wasn’t ready to tell Sean. Not yet.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Andrea!” Becca squealed at me from a few racks over. “Come look at this!”

  We were at the mall, scouting for an outfit for me to wear to the concert. I wasn’t thrilled about it, but after twenty-four hours of Becca trying to talk me into wearing something of hers, I’d relented. She always knew how to get me out of bed, even when I was at my worst.

  “What?” I asked, making my way in her direction, praying it wasn’t something with ripped tulle. It wasn’t. It was worse. Much, much worse.

  “Oh no. Nuh-uh,” I said, backing away as soon as I caught sight of the leather strap in her hand. “You’re crazy if you think I’m wearing that.”

  “Oh, come on! It’s a rock concert.”

  I shook my head furiously and planted my arms over my chest. “I don’t care. I’m not wearing that—that—what the hell is it?”

  Becca gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “It’s a top, you goof. See?” She arranged the top—if you could call it that—as if she were wearing it over her clothing. I’m not sure it would have covered her nipples if she’d actually gone in the dressing room to put it on.

  “All I see is a strap of red fabric stretched over half of your breasts, Becca.” I turned back to another rack and started sifting through some more clothes, completely dismissing the absurd outfit.

  “But don’t you want to make Jace drool during the interview?”

  Face scrunched, my head shot back around to look at her. “Now, why would I want to go and do that?”

  Her lips twisted into an almost maniacal smirk. “Show off what he can’t have.”

  I stood there, staring at the top for a moment, trying to see things from her angle. I hated to admit it, but it really was a brilliant idea.

  “Give me that,” I said, snapping the top from her grasp. Without so much as a second thought, I marched toward the dressing rooms to try it on.

  It only took about five minutes to regret falling victim to Becca’s ploy.

  “Come on, it can’t be that bad,” Becca called from the other side of the dressing room door. “Let me see.”

  I didn’t respond. I just stood there, staring at myself in the mirror.

  The tight red leather cups of the top gave my smaller sized breasts a bit of a lift and a lot of volume. The tie, threaded through the middle of the top to hold the two sides of it together, revealed the line between both breasts and a slight swell on each side. My stomach, which I’d always been rather proud of, was fully revealed under the bottom hem of the top, which didn’t even clear the bottom of my rib cage. I looked amazing in it.

  But I also looked like a slut.

  “Andrea!” Becca pounded on the door. “I’m serious, come out or I’m climbing under this door and coming in.”

  I swallowed my pride and modesty and opened the door but refused to leave the privacy of the dressing stall. There was no way in hell I was venturing out into the store half naked.

  As soon as she stepped into the small room, Becca’s mouth flopped open and shut a few times. Finally the words came out. “Wow, you look… ”

  “Slutty? Trashy? Like a tramp?”

  “Shut up,” she said, smacking my arm. “I was going to say hot. Very, very hot. You’re going to have what’s-his-name creaming his pants at the site of you.”

  I could feel the blush rising in my cheeks. “You think?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely! Get it.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, turning to examine myself in the full-length mirror again. “I feel so… naked.”

  “It’s a rock concert, woman. Everyone’s going to be naked.”

  I hesitated a moment longer, trying to decide if giving up my dignity for one night—if for no other reason than to drive Jace wild so I could turn around and shoot him down—would be worth it. He did need to be taught a lesson, to see that women were more than just silent little sheep, flocking behind him, conceding to his every whim.

  If there was anyone on the planet that could teach him that, it was me. I was immune to the smooth talk behind his sexy smile. I wasn’t superficial enough to be swayed by his come hither chocolate eyes or silky-looking hair. Still, the idea of being seen in public like that mortified me.

  “Well, if you’re not going to buy it, I will,” Becca said after I didn’t respond.

  “No, no. You’re right. I’ll get it.” I turned back around, grabbed her arm and pulled her in for a hug. “Thanks.”

  “You’re the one with the hot bod,” she said, pulling back and giving me a quick smooch on the cheek before releasing me. “Now, come on. I’m starving.”

  “Aren’t you always,” I said, chuckling as she stepped out of the dressing room.

  When she closed the door behind her, I gave myself my reflection one last good look. I really did look pretty killer in my soon-to-be new top. I could only hope that Jace Richardson felt the same way.

  Sean called as Becca and I made our way out of the store, two bags hanging from each of our arms. Just as I had the day before, I silenced my phone as we weaved through the crowd toward the food court.

  Becca shot me a sideways glance, one pierced eyebrow slightly lifted. “You’re not going to answer him?” she asked.

  I shook my head slightly, lips pulled into a tight frown. “I haven’t figured out how to tell him about the paper,” I admitted.

  “You still have a position though, right?”

  I chewed away at the inside of my cheek nervously. “That’s the thing. Marcus didn’t say what would happen when Stacey came back.”

  “Maybe he’s considering you for some kind of promotion or something?”

  I shot her a sideways glance. “Three months before graduation?”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said as we stepped in line to order our pretzels.

  We put our conversation on hold, placed our orders, paid for our food, and found a place to sit.

  “So, what are you going to do?�
�� Becca asked, dipping her salty pretzel into one of the five cheese cups we’d ordered.

  “Mmmm…I don’t know,” I said, mid-chew. “I know I have to talk to him about it. I just don’t know what’s going on myself right now. I guess I just don’t want him to worry.”

  “He will though, you know. Worry, I mean,” she said, brows raised. “Especially since you’re not answering your phone.”

  I released a heavy sigh and tore off another bite of my pretzel before dipping into the cheese. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll talk to him later tonight.”

  “I hope so, chick,” Becca said, pointing a finger at me. “Otherwise I might steal him from you. Sean’s one of the few good ones out there.”

  “Oh, you wanna throw down over my man?” I joked, giving her shin a small kick underneath the table.

  “You know I’d win in a heartbeat.” Becca said, throwing her black and purple hair over her shoulder in a very uncharacteristic Valley Girl impression.

  “Pffft,” I said, rolling my eyes. “As if.”

  We both fell into a fit of laughter over the prospect of her and Sean actually getting together. They were about as far from compatible as peanut butter and sardines. But she was right about one thing; Sean really was one of the good ones. Maybe it was about time I started treating him like it.

  ***

  “You’re really coming next weekend?” Sean asked for the third time, obviously still in shock over my sudden change in plans.

  “Yes, really,” I replied, laughing as I snuggled into my pillow, already excited about seeing him. “I’m really coming. I miss you, and it’s been too long.”

  “And you’re sure it won’t mess with the exam you have next week?”

  “Nah, I’m sure I’ll do fine,” I said. “It’s not like I’m struggling or anything. Just, you know me.”

  “Of course I do! You’re intelligent. Goal-oriented. Hard-working. And sexy as hell.”