by Claire Adams
"Everyone claims they had to go back after one time, but I don't know if I feel the same way."
"You're bullshitting me," he said. The ego on this guy never ceased to amaze me.
"This isn't happening again," I said firmly. "I wanted to know what all the hype was about and now I know."
"Are you going to come back?"
"To what? Work? Here? I told you, Jason, I already have another job, and they’ll have to kick me out on my ass before I reconsider coming back here to work with you."
"You can't be serious, Shel. Don't be like this."
"Like what?" I demanded. "You're the one with the problem if you can't see why a person would walk out of their job just so they didn't have to deal with you anymore. Goodbye, Jason." I smoothed my skirt and started towards the door.
"I don't want you to leave, Shelby," he said behind me. Who was this? Earnest and apologetic Jason? I could think of times when I would have given in to him in the past if he had apologized to me and meant it, but not now. I turned and looked at him.
"Goodbye," I repeated. I opened the door and walked out, smoothing my hands over my dress self-consciously. Someone must have seen me walk out with him; I knew how it would look if we walked back in together. That office gossip would make rounds whether I still worked here or not. I stopped and decided to go to the bathroom first. Standing in front of the mirror, thanking God for transfer-proof makeup, my mind wandered.
Had he really meant what he'd said? If he had, then that meant he was going to miss me. I could see that. It would probably be a pain in the ass getting used to another producer, but even then, if he was going to miss me, then that was his problem. He had had me for a long time, a lot longer than he had deserved. I deserved to work with someone who actually appreciated what I brought to the table. I'd miss a few of the friends that I made here, but I was pretty sure I wouldn't be missing him, not even after tonight. My panties were uncomfortably wet with his and my joined fluids soaking them. That's what I'd take with me from him: the memory of the quickie in the control room. I walked out of the bathroom, back into the party. Once I finished saying bye, I was going back home.
Chapter Five
Jason
My brain woke up before my body did. I lay on my back with my eyes closed, listening to the alarm on my phone ring till it got too annoying and I had to turn it off. My eyes felt like they were glued shut. My arms hurt when I lifted them. I scrubbed my hands over my face, cursing. It was morning, but it felt like I had only been asleep for three hours. I sluggishly pushed myself up so I was sitting. I looked around the room. I had had the presence of mind last night to take my clothes off before getting into bed, but they were strewn all over the floor and bed. What time had I gotten home last night?
My head pounded and I could hardly see straight. My throat felt like I had eaten a pound of sand. All the signs of a night well spent, Bowman, I thought. I was waking up alone though so it couldn't have been that good. Wait a second... it started coming back to me then. In the fog, piecing through fragments of what the hell had happened last night, I remembered. Remembered? How could I forget? Shelby in that red dress, her tight pussy choking the shit out of my cock in the control room.
I closed my eyes again and collapsed back into the pillows as the memory pieced itself back together. I had always known she was hot, hotter than hot, but fuck. When that pussy clenched and she threw her head back, I fucking saw stars. Once we were alone in that room, I knew that I wouldn't be able to let her just walk out on me like that. She had insisted that she was leaving and I don't know; I just had to do something before I never saw her again.
Dammit, was I glad I did. I couldn't believe I had gotten so close to never finding out how good of a lay she was. My cock was twitching just remembering how she had felt. I had fucked that sweet pussy raw and come inside her. I wasn't forgetting that one anytime soon. Fuck, and she still hadn’t stayed after that. She was still leaving. That really had been the last time that I would ever see her. She had walked out, just like that, after letting me rail her on a controller desk. What had I even been asking her to do? Last night, I had just wanted her to stay, forget the last year that we had worked together so we could start fresh if that was what she needed. Thinking back now, I hadn't wanted to watch her walk out of that fucking control room. We would have had to leave eventually, but would it have killed her to stay long enough so we could leave together?
I opened my eyes again, sighing. I was hard, hung over, and if I stayed in bed any longer, I was going to be late. I sat up again, waited for the room to stop spinning, and dragged myself out of bed. Aspirin: I needed aspirin and coffee. I went to my bathroom and dry swallowed a couple pills, then stood under a cold shower to wake me up and kill my hard-on. I walked back out into my room hoping I was going to have the cleaning service here today. The morning had already started on the wrong foot; I did not want to come back home and find this goddamn mess still on the floor.
The clothes I had worn last night were all over the ground, with some of my pillows off the bed and other clothes that I didn't even remember ever having put on recently. Last night had been worse than I had thought. I wasn't a small guy; it usually took a lot of liquor to take me out. I must have ended up drinking something harder than whiskey if I was out like this, I thought, trying to remember what had happened the night before. Shelby had been the whole point of even going to that stupid party; did it matter what else happened? I dressed robotically, going through the motions of getting ready, my headache only slightly dulled. After two cups of coffee, I felt human enough to leave the house.
Walking into work, I was glad to notice that I hadn't been the only one who had taken advantage of the open bar. More than a couple people looked like they had woken up this morning feeling like death. I was too old to still be doing this shit. I wouldn't have gotten so trashed if it wasn't for what had happened with Shelby. Technically, this was her fault. I had lost her after she had left the control room. When I had come back out to the party, I had gone straight for the bar and stayed there long enough to drink too much. What was the bad decision count for last night? Besides drinking enough to knock out a grizzly, letting Shelby leave was going to hurt more than this hangover. The headache would fade at some point; Shelby had made it crystal fucking clear that she wasn't coming back and there was nothing I could do to convince her.
Water. I needed water. With a hangover this bad I knew I hadn't been pacing myself last night. I went to the break room and helped myself to a bottle of water from the refrigerator. I wouldn't start to feel better for a while, but at least I was doing something. Another cup of coffee probably wouldn't hurt either. I heard someone walk in.
"Jason, good to see you survived to see another day," she said.
"What?" I snapped.
"Last night? You were pretty trashed. A couple of us were worried you wouldn't get home safe." Louise was the executive producer at the station; I shouldn't have been talking to her like that, but she had been at the party the night before. She had said it herself; I was trashed.
"Lucky me," I said, annoyed. I wanted her to shut up. I was too fucking hung over for this.
"Lucky us," she said. "You're looking a little worse for wear. You feeling okay?"
"Did you want to say something to me, Louise?" I asked.
"Don't blame me because you overshot your limit," she shot back. "I came to tell you we have a new writer, or should I say, another new writer." Writer? What did I need a new... oh, right. Shelby was gone, because of me.
"About time. What's her name?"
"Clark Marlowe," she said pointedly.
"Interesting name for a woman," I said.
"That's because he isn't one. Every single woman we hire to write for you ends up quitting soon after."
I shrugged. "Are you trying to say that's my fault?"
"Maybe with a male writer you'll behave yourself," she said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes.
"If he's no good, he'll
end up like all the rest."
"If you get pissy with him, he'll just punch you in the face," she said. "It would serve you right."
"Oh yeah, because every time one of them leaves, it's my fault."
"So far, yes," she said. "It has been your fault, Jason. You better pray the day doesn't come when you're the expendable one. I would have dropped you in a second if it meant keeping Shelby."
"Wait, what?"
"I really thought that you had met your match with her, but nope. You did it in the end. You wore her down and ran her off like the rest."
"She got to that decision on her own. She was the one who had a hissy fit and stormed out."
"Stormed out, yeah, all the fucking way to Los Angeles. She moved all the way across the country to get away from you." I had had too much to drink the night before but what, was I hearing things now? Los Angeles?
"Wait, wait, wait, what?"
"She got another job for a station in L.A. Zero points for guessing where." I closed my eyes, wishing I was asleep because then that would mean that I was dreaming and none of this shit was real.
“KJLA?"
"The one and only. I hope you're proud of yourself," she sniped, walking away.
I was still asleep: that had to be it because this wasn't real life. This was a fucking nightmare. KJLA was the Lyft to our Uber, the Pepsi to our Coke. Shelby hadn't just left; she had gone and joined up with our biggest competition. We were consistently neck and neck when it came to ratings. She could have gone anywhere, and that was there she chose? As much as I hated to admit it, as a career move, it made sense. If you weren't going up, you weren't moving.
I swear, she knew that I'd find out, that was why she did it. I didn't know why she hadn't just told me herself. It probably would have gotten her off just to see my reaction. I was seething. Here I was, hung over after some of the hottest sex I had ever had in my life, and she was packing up to move to fucking Los Angeles. Why hadn't she fucking said anything? Didn't I get that much? We had worked together for almost a year, spent hours and hours together, and I had to hear that she was moving across the country from a co-worker?
I hadn't thought that the day could get worse but it just had.
It had been a long time since I had gotten this job, long enough that the hangover from hell wouldn't be enough to really knock me off my game. It was all about poise anyway, this whole job. We delivered the news every day come rain or shine. It never stopped and neither did we. If I looked bad, one of the makeup girls could take care of that. As the hours ticked by and the worst of my hangover lifted, I got to really think about the night before and I wished I was still drunk.
Louise hadn't been kidding about the number of people who had had Shelby's job before her. Some of them I had had a hard time figuring out how they had even gotten hired. They had been a waste of time. Before Shelby, it had been this girl, I couldn't even remember her name; just as well because she hadn't even made it to three months. She had been young, attractive, but hadn't delivered any of the skills that she had claimed to have. She had cried in a meeting once when I had pointed out that she hadn't updated a script with a breaking story. She might have gotten a degree in it, but broadcast journalism clearly hadn't been her lane.
Shelby was so quick on her feet, I didn't know why she had chosen to work behind the scenes instead of reporting herself. She had the skill for it, definitely, and she'd look good on TV. Who the fuck was I going to get stuck with next? What was the guy's name? Clark? We'd see how long he could last.
“Jason, you made it back today,” Lila chirped, coming up next to me as I left the break room.
“So did you,” I sighed. She was part of the hair and makeup team. I saw her often and had slept with her once or twice too, but her cheery little voice wasn’t working for me right then.
“Rough night last night,” she said. “If you come with me I have something that’ll work better on that hangover than that water,” she said. I glanced down at her, then sighed, rolling my eyes.
“I’ll pass,” I said. I was heading out to various homeless shelters around the city with a cameraman later to get interviews. I didn’t feel like dealing with her.
“Are you sure? I can—” She grabbed my arm, and I pulled it back from her. She scoffed, offended, and walked away. No, I wasn’t interested, not even a little. After Shelby last night, there was no way she could measure up anyway.
Chapter Six
Shelby
One Year Later
I parked my car, looking in the rearview as I reached for my purse in the passenger seat.
"You okay back there, big guy?" I asked. He was fine; I could see his little face in the mirror. I turned in my seat to get a better look. I had a mirror that attached to the headrest of the back seat so I could look back and see him in his rear-facing car seat. He was awake; the car ride between the apartment and work was too short for him to doze off during.
I got out of the car and went around to the back to take him out. He made a little babbling noise and wriggled in his seat. I couldn't help smiling down at him, my perfect little prince. He was perfectly fine with getting strapped in, thank god. Getting to work every day already involved getting more than just myself ready so I was happy whenever he was. If he hadn't been good with the seat, I didn't know what I would have done. I still didn't know how I had kept my job when I had had to go on maternity leave just months after I had been hired.
I lifted him out of the seat and held him against my hip as I shut the door. My mornings had gotten considerably busier since I had to get us both ready in the morning but the alternative would have been paying someone to take him while I was at work. That was nine, ten hours a day when my only contact with him would be through a stranger who I would be leaving alone with my baby in my apartment. I loved having him close. If push came to shove, then I'd obviously do what it took to make sure he had care when I was at work, but it was almost unthinkable to me to be so far away from him.
A lot changed when you had a child. No, scratch that: everything had changed when I had had Damien. Everything had changed when I found out that I was pregnant. Shelby from a year ago wouldn't recognize the person I was now. For one thing, I lived in L.A. Who knew Christmas didn't have to mean sub-zero temperatures? I walked into the building and made my way to the daycare.
"Are you going to be good today?" I asked, kissing my baby's cheek. He was just downstairs if he needed anything or I wanted to see him. A lot of parents weren't as lucky as I was and I appreciated that. I couldn't help feeling greedy though. It was cliché, but they really did grow fast. The past three months had zoomed by. He had been a pink little nugget coming home with me from the hospital one day, and now he had more than doubled his birth weight and was holding his own head up. I cuddled him one last time before handing him off to Karla, the carer.
It wasn't ideal, but it worked. People made it work under much harder circumstances than I was in; I tried to remember that whenever I started feeling sorry for myself. I walked to the elevator and rode up to my floor. I changed gears, shifting into work mode. I had a meeting to get to, as much as I wanted to spend a little more time with Damien. Before having him, I had been one of those people who thought that it was possible for women to have it all: a career and a family. What they didn't say was that it really meant having a little bit of a lot of things and not really all of anything.
I got to my desk and sunk into my chair, relieved. Damien was only getting up about once a night now but that one time a night every night caught up with you. I hadn't had time that morning for coffee. I checked the time; I'd need at least one cup before the meeting if I was planning on getting anything accomplished.
"Morning, Shel," I heard someone say. I looked up from my phone and smiled.
"Davis, if one of those cups is for me, I just might have to marry you." Davis laughed a little, coming up to my desk and handing me a cup of coffee.
"Slow down, let me at least propose first," he joked. I t
hanked him and took a long, grateful sip of the steaming coffee. Non-dairy creamer and no sugar, just the way I liked it. Delivered to me by the sexy senior anchor of KJLA, even better.
"Not a moment too soon. You looked like you needed it today," he said lightly. I scowled at him but knew he was kidding. I might not have gotten up early enough to have had coffee, but I had at least concealed the bags under my eyes before leaving the house. He, of course, looked great and he hadn't even been to makeup yet. His hair was black, naturally curly but gelled and slicked back for work. He had eyes the color of dark liquor and a voice rich and smooth as aged whiskey.
"Watch out. I haven't had enough coffee to put up with that mouth yet," I warned playfully.
"Whenever you're ready," he said affably. The meeting was with him. We were going to go over the script together before the broadcast. There wasn't much to go over; it wouldn't take us longer than twenty minutes. We used an empty meeting room, going over the latest additions to the script and making sure he wasn't going into the broadcast unprepared. He was professional, sharp, and never made my job harder than it needed to be. We were finished in under fifteen minutes with plenty of time before he had to go into makeup before taping.
"Do you have plans tonight?" he asked, as I downed the last of my coffee.
"Not really. Why?"
"I wanted to come over if you weren't busy."
"I don't know."
"Did you want to come over instead? I know it's more convenient with the baby for you to be home but whatever works."
"It's not that. It's going to be Christmas soon, Damien's first, and I don't know. We don't have any family here. I just want to make it a little special somehow." He nodded.
"I get it."
"Sorry."
"Don't be," he said, smiling. "I'll call you." I watched him leave, relieved that he had taken it so well. We were one hundred percent casual. Between work and Damien, I didn't know whether I wanted to try and tackle having a relationship and he was an attractive, available bachelor. We had agreed to keep things loose and so far, it was working out. Not wanting to be the subject of office gossip, we weren't any friendlier at work than we had to be. If I was busy or he was busy, we just rescheduled, no hard feelings. He didn't have kids but understood that Damien was my first priority. He knew about him but mostly kept his distance and didn't ask that many questions since we weren't together like that. Davis Jacks was... he was great. He was charming and handsome and a dream to work with. He felt like my reward after the unfortunate year I had had to endure working with Jason Bowman.