by J. M. Maurer
My stomach off, I push my dinner to the edge of my desk, let it fall to the wastebasket below, and stare at several blobs of weather moving counterclockwise on my screens. It’s hard to focus with my thoughts scattered all over the place. How will I even begin to explain to Eli what happened with Ed today?
Like a robot set on slow motion, I eventually finish a few graphics for the weather segment coming up at eleven. Having not heard from Eli lately, I decide to shoot him a text to let him know he’s on my mind. I’ll open up to him about Ed later tonight, or tomorrow, after I’ve had plenty of time to think the whole thing over. For now, I twist to grab my mobile phone but jump in my seat instead, my hand hovering in midair, my heartbeat racing, the ringing of my work phone completely catching me off guard.
My brain gives me a dozen reasons I should not answer the call. But I know better than to make my boss wait, and decide to lift the handset from its base.
“Makayla!”
I close my eyes and slouch in my seat.
“Are you listening?” Ed continues without giving me a chance to speak. “The Cavs are playing a big game tonight. As a lead-in to the sports segment, I’d like you to report the weather from the arena. Don’t forget you already have one strike against you. I don’t have to remind you of the consequences of a second one, do I?”
“No, Mr. Richardson,” I say as demurely as I can.
“And you haven’t forgotten our little chat, have you?”
“No, Mr. Richardson,” I mutter on repeat, his words and his hands feeling up my chest once again pouring into my thoughts. I’d give anything to halt the visions and merely see black behind my closed lids. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to stop them from entering my mind.
“Good girl, Makayla,” Ed quips, his sleazy tone intruding on my memory from hell. “I knew you’d come around. This will be good for you. Now go make me proud. And don’t be late.”
Dial tone.
About to be sick, I bolt out the door, slip into an empty restroom, and splash cold water across my forehead. Looking up, I stare at the reflection of a pale redheaded woman in the mirror. She looks like me, breathes in and out like me, and has water dripping down her skin. Also like me, I know deep down she’s feisty, like her momma has always said.
I pat myself dry and peer back at the reflection in the mirror as the woman straightens her spine. “You know,” I tell her as she clenches her fists, “you don’t have to stay here and take Ed’s shit. March yourself down to HR and report his sorry ass.”
But without substantial proof, who’s gonna believe a nobody like you?
Point taken, and I resolve to give that some additional thought. “Well, one thing is certain, that standing job offer back home at the university just keeps sounding better and better.”
It is my one-way ticket right out of Cleveland and far away from my boss. And taking the job is as easy as firing off an email saying, “When shall I start?” But then again, is anything worth having in life really ever that simple?
A big part of me still wants to know I can make it on my own, and do so away from any influence my parents might have on my job. On top of that, I haven’t mentioned the job to Eli. I’m not sure what will happen between us when I do.
For the time being, I decide to put it all aside, return to my desk, and send the graphics I’ve been working on for Mr. Tagarelli to the shared file. Once I’m finished, I grab my coat and my bag, and then traipse down to the garage, lacking a morsel of motivation.
The instant I see Eli waiting at the van, I perk up like a fresh pot of coffee, and fly across the concrete into his open arms. “You have no idea how you just made my day. Please tell me how it’s possible that I get to have you tonight.”
“You know I’ve been covering sports. Basketball is a sport. I take it something happened to your phone and selfie stick?”
I manage to laugh softly and settle into his hug, completely forgetting we’re at work until Sam speaks up from the front of the van.
“Hey, M.”
“Hey, Sam,” I say cheerfully and reluctantly scoot out of Eli’s embrace.
“You ready for this?” Eli asks, his tone uncertain, his gaze scanning the hat on my head. “Hey, so you buy me an OU hat to wear and now you go and get yourself a new one. What’s up with that?”
I shake my head. “Not new. I just turned it inside out.” I point to a seam. “See?”
He furrows his brows. “You could have just turned it around.”
“And then have to listen to you complain about it every time you’re chasing after me? No way.”
“Good point.” He chuckles softly. “Not that I think your hat really matters anymore.”
I scoot to my seat. “What do you mean?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Sam huffs in disbelief.
“Heard what?” I turn to Eli, concerned.
“The news is about you. The network loves you. Viewers love you. You’re all over social media. For the first time ever, our ratings are obliterating the big channels in town.”
Puzzled, I shift my focus to the floor. Judging by what Ed said, I’m confused beyond belief. Because if what Eli is saying is true, shouldn’t my boss be happy?
Warm fingers lift my chin as Eli aligns my sight with his. It takes me a moment to register the way his hair sticks out at the bottom of his hat, the way his smile curls over his lips, and the warm glint in his eyes. Taking it all in, I draw in a breath and sink back into my seat.
“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” I gently shove his shoulder and accept their little joke. “Thanks. I’m relaxed now. That was a good one.”
“We’re not joking,” Sam says, his large eyes peering back at me through the rearview mirror.
As he steers the van out onto the street, I turn back to Eli. He’s looking at me with affection, seemingly unaware I’m struggling inside. Heading out to location is not the time to mention my concerns. But like an army of fire ants crawling under my skin, Ed’s tactics have become a constant source of irritation I simply can’t ignore.
“How much do you know about The General?”
Eli frowns. “Who?”
“Ed.”
“Ed?” He laughs. “He’s an ass. With everyone. Why?”
“Just curious.”
“From what I’ve heard, it’s his boss you don’t want to piss off. I suspect Ed’s head has been on the chopping block for quite some time. Why else would he hang out at the office as much as he does?”
If Ed’s pressuring others like he’s attempting to manipulate me, I know exactly why he stays late at the office as much as he does. Since I don’t want to tip off Eli to the battle going on inside my head, I decide to focus on my time with him instead.
Eli moves a hand to my shoulder and skates his fingers across my coat. “I’m really not sure why Ed does anything he does. I thought someone would have already warned you about him.”
He frowns, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s irritated at himself for not having been the one to warn me about Ed or something else is bothering him.
“We’re almost there,” Sam informs us, leaning into a final turn.
This close to the arena, I’m reminded of the set of orders I received from Ed. Mulling them over, I smear gloss across my lips, smack them together in a fit of hidden contempt, and inadvertently make quite a loud POP.
Eli clears his throat and swallows, all without blinking. I know this look. He’s thinking.
I shove the gloss back into my pocket and lightly caress his cheek. “Hey. You still with me? I can’t do this without you, remember?”
He blinks and directs his focus onto my hair, then tugs on a curl before coiling it around his finger. “Always.” He looks up and gives me a feeble smile. “I’m always with you.”
“Good.” I move in for a hug and steal a moment to run my fingers through his hair. It’s as soft as the fur on a kitten. I love the way it feels. And more than anything, I wish I could stay right here
—safe in Eli’s arms—forever. “Umm, tonight after work, I’d like to talk to you about something, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay.” He leans back, his eyes finding mine. “You sound… troubled. Everything all right?”
I’d love to tell him just how far from all right I am, that our boss is a piece of shit, and that he violated me in a way no boss should ever do. Then something hits me. What will Eli do when I tell him how Ed touched me? He’ll bust a ball or two, that’s exactly what he’ll do. It would surely get him fired and the thought of Eli losing his job because of me makes me take pause. Should I rethink what I plan to tell him, or should I not tell him anything at all?
Right now, we both have a job to do. And given today’s events, I don’t want either of us getting fired. But I also don’t want Ed thinking he can continue to manipulate me or anyone else.
“I’m sure it will be,” I finally answer as Sam inches the van against a curb.
He cuts the engine as Eli grabs his camera and I open the door. Together we hop over a snow bank along the sidewalk before heading out and crossing a busy street.
“Stick close.” Eli grabs my hand. “There’s an open area between the arena and the baseball stadium. We’ll set up over there.”
I turn to him with a smile. “Let’s do this. In front of this jam-packed arena, let’s impress our fans.”
Eli nods and I suddenly recall a comment Ed made.
Now go and make me proud.
Ha! Forget that. There’s not a cell in my body that would ever make me want to do anything to impress him.
Bile lurches up my throat as I recall Ed’s orders to alter my appearance. I can’t help but wonder if it’s for ratings, or if all this is merely meant to help get my boss off.
Suspecting it’s the latter, I pull my scarf up and over my nose, feeling one part dirty, the other ninety-nine parts apoplectically stormy. If I weren’t bent on paving my own way, I’d go off on him out in public like an incensed baboon. Because as far as I’m concerned, Ed can take the makeup and the dresses and shove them where the weather stays a balmy ninety-eight point six.
Paint on some color.
Show off those plump and perky tits.
And start dressing like the hot twenty-five-year-old woman we both know you are.
I grow more incensed the longer Ed’s commands permeate my thoughts. Showcasing my physical assets in that manner is just not who I am.
Pffft. I’ll show him.
Eli attaches himself to me like a fly on sticky paper.
I’m not sure why he’s brooding, but as we wait, a strange aura of reluctance is evident in his expression. It’s like an oppressive deluge of black and gray floating around him, a sharp contrast to the mesmerizing colors his expressions usually light up with. On top of that, his gaze is all over the place, searching our surroundings as if he’s on watch for an evil intruder. As we get closer to going live he moves away from me and starts his usual prep.
“I’m right here, Eli.” I wave, then point a finger toward my head, seeing what normally would have been a smile turn wistfully into a frown. “What? Bad lighting? Terrible angle? My red hat not turning you on?”
I try making a joke of it, but quickly realize I’ve hit a nerve. He turns his back to me, holds his camera in front of him, and works at adjusting something I assume is causing the problem.
Waiting for him to return, I clear away a dusting of snow on the ground with my foot, check out my coat and scarf, and awkwardly fiddle with my hat. However, time is ticking and Eli needs to quickly wrap up whatever he’s doing.
“Eli, is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I’m almost done. Just a sec.” He lifts his shoulders, turns around, and moves the camera back into position. “You look great. We’re on in thirty. Time to break a leg.” He winks.
My Eli is back. As are the pleasing prickles that, solely because of him, feel like hundreds of tiny ballerinas dancing across my skin.
Confident my cheeks are now as red as my hat, I spread some more clear gloss across my lips, working to make good on my one passive-aggressive maneuver against my boss’s commands. After smearing the gloss around I lift my chin with confidence and smile. I’m done. Got nothing left. And I don’t give a shit that my insubordination is going to piss Ed off.
When Eli counts down and lifts a silent finger that we’re live, I lock in on the camera and broaden my smile. “Helloo, Cleveland—” I say, just as something hard hits my right flank.
A sudden burst of pain surprises me the instant my left hip wrenches my spine out of alignment. Seriously? A snowball? Who in their right mind would throw a snowball at a reporter? Needing to move on, I know I can’t confront them. Plus I don’t want to alert the viewers to the cause of the alarmingly loud THWACK.
I straighten my posture and focus on the camera. “We are live outside the arena where cheers of excitement are loud and clear. But let me tell you, it’s not because of this cold snap we got going on out here.”
We had beautiful blue skies throughout the day, but the forecast I’m about to deliver isn’t one I’d be even remotely happy about.
BAM.
A second snowball hits me, this time punishing the cold muscles of my thigh. I push beyond my frustration and manage a quick glance to my right where several kids are off to the side, their shoulders moving up and down in laughter. Certain their incoming fire is an invitation to enter their game, I bend down and scoop up some snow between my free hand and the one holding the mic. It’s a bit of a challenge at first, but as I go about explaining the different types of winter precipitation to everyone listening in Cleveland, a perfect ball of white begins to form.
My mini-dissertation includes everything from squally sleet to graupel and even includes the simple steps involved in packing the perfect ball of snow. Once finished, I waste no time in demonstrating just how a redheaded meteorologist from Oklahoma can throw.
Eli shakes his head as if silently voicing opposition. He doesn’t seem too excited about my unprofessional departure from reporting. I ignore his bright, wide eyes and snatch up more snow, then get to work, pummeling each of the kids one by one.
My cheeks hurt from smiling. My elation is unlike anything I’ve ever known. Who knew a snowball fight could turn out to be this much fun?
Unfortunately, the echoes of our laughter make it nearly impossible for me to continue. I remind myself I have a job to do and bring my excitement down a few notches.
While talking to the camera, I hear a voice holler from somewhere beside me. I don’t comprehend any of what’s said, so I move to wrap up the segment, but have to swallow my words the instant a snowball explodes against the back of my head.
With four sets of eyes in front of me, I know the latest attack isn’t from any of the kids. With Eli filming, my next logical thought goes to Sam. I turn to greet him but Sam isn’t there. Shocked by what I’m seeing, I nearly plummet to the ground, just as I feel my smile slide clean off my face, moving swiftly into a frown.
As I stare back at the one man I’m certain I loathe, I move toward him, my body rigid with anger, my stomach threatening to push the acids up and out of my throat. “You,” I seethe through gritted teeth. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Red,” Caleb says with a smirk that royally ticks me off. “Darling, I’ve been following you on TV. How have you been?”
Red! Darling! How have I been?
I draw my hands to my head, then, in a fit of indignation, throw them both into the air. “How have I been? Oh, don’t even go there, Caleb.”
“Makayla,” Caleb warns, tilting his head, and then tosses me the look that always preceded, Calm down, Red. You’re being so irrational.
Irrational or not, I sense a large dose of unresolved anger seeping into every muscle of my body. I’m in extra-rare form. Talk about things going from bad to worse.
“You’re such an ass, Caleb. How about you take off again without another word? Heck, it worked for you last time. And d
amn, you’re pretty freaking good at it.”
“Look.” Caleb smirks. “I’m sorry I hurt you. Yes, I was an ass. But listen and give me a second chance.”
“Why?” I seethe. “Because I’m once again somebody important? Well let me tell you, I have nothing. You took everything the day you left me that damn letter and never returned.”
“Have you forgotten what all I have done for you? Heck, I gave you the biggest excuse to get out from under the claws of your mom. And you seem to have done pretty well for yourself.” His gaze scans my body. “You look as beautiful as ever. How about I take you out when you’re done? I know a place that’s nice and warm.”
I look as beautiful as ever. Are you kidding me? Have I forgotten?
I haven’t forgotten anything, and I know exactly what he means by “a place that’s nice and warm.” There’s no way I’ll ever go anywhere with him. Not now. Not ever.
Using a move out of Ed’s handbook, I jump Caleb and take him down to the ground, adrenaline coursing through my veins, anger fueling my actions. “Screw you. Screw you, Caleb!”
Straddling his body, I draw my hand back and prepare to make contact with his face. A desperate need to fill him in on just how much I hate him turns me into a mad woman. But to my surprise, my coat closes in against my throat, and before I know what’s happening, I find myself off Caleb and once again standing on the ground.
“Makayla.” The soft voice echoes near my ear. “Not here.”
Eli.
His firm grip slips into place over my shoulder, but my rage shouldn’t be any of his concern. It’s not his circus. This outdoor show at the arena is solely between Caleb and me.