by Claire Adams
The room buzzed with activity around us. Eventually, I'd have to let him go get ready for work. I kept my eyes open, watching the various members of the station heading to the studio and control room for work. One woman in a white top and tan skirt holding a clipboard caught my eye from over Davis' shoulder. I glanced over at her. She was standing stock still, staring right back at me. It took a couple seconds to realize it was her. Shelby. Her mouth hung open, and she looked like she had just seen a ghost.
Serves her right, I thought. A mixture of bitterness and suspicion flooded through me looking at her. I had come because I had felt that there was something she was hiding from me; now I was almost certain there was. She looked at the ground, smoothed her hands over her skirt and started walking up to us.
"Davis," she said, getting his attention. He turned, hearing her.
"Oh, hey, Shelby. Is it time already?" he asked.
"No, but almost. What's going on?" she asked, looking at me pointedly before looking back at him.
"Ah, I can see how this could be a little awkward for you," Davis, said laughing lightly. She looked at me.
"No kidding. Who invited him?" she said.
"Good to see you too, Shelby," I said sincerely. She frowned at me.
"Are you lost or is there a real reason why you're here?"
"I can't drop by to say hi?" I asked innocently, a little amused at her territorial reaction.
"No," she said, crossing her arms.
"Too bad. I'm glad I did," I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her. "It's good to see you, Shel."
Chapter Ten
Shelby
The smell of his expensive cologne took me right back to the night in the control room a year ago. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes. The memory wasn't bad. It was hot. The night when all the tension between us had come to a head and we had crossed the boundary between us that our professional relationship and resentment had stopped us from crossing. He had never held me like this before, I realized. We had had sex before, but we hadn't even so much as held hands. It was laughable how distant our relationship was despite the fact that we had been intimate. I pushed against him so he would release me. His arms loosened and he put his hands on my shoulders instead.
"Shelby, I can't tell you how great it is to see you again," he said. I searched his face for the lie, the joke, the something. I couldn't see it. He was being honest. Somehow, I knew that instinctually, but at the same time, it didn't matter. I still didn't trust him.
"You too," I said warily, backing away so his hands left my shoulders.
"No introductions necessary," Davis said with a smile on his face. What a sweet, oblivious man he was.
"Nope. Not sure if I'm happy about that, honestly," he said, looking at me. What had they been talking about before I had gotten there?
"What can I say? She chose the winning team," Davis said, smiling. Jason laughed. I looked at them, shocked. I knew that they didn't actually hate each other, but why were they being so friendly? Was there a chance Jason knew about me and Davis? The thought made my blood run cold. He had just waltzed back into my life and expected a warm welcome, like the eleven months of torture he had put me through hadn't happened. I had thought about what it would be like to see him again. The swirl of emotions had metastasized into shock. "Isn't that right, Shelby?"
"Hm?" I asked, still a little stunned.
"What would Jason have to do to get you to go back to New York?" he asked. I cast a look over at Jason. His green eyes were boring holes into me; his stare was so intense. He looked like he was trying to hold something back. Maybe there was something to that rivalry after all. Davis' tone had been light; they were just fooling around, but he didn't realize how deep the connection between Jason and me ran.
"Honestly," I said, putting a hand on Davis' chest. I pressed my chest into him as I looked up at his face. His brow raised a little, noticing my contact. "The only way I'd go back is if he stayed here." He laughed, sliding an arm across my shoulders. We never touched when other people could see us. The rumors about us were there regardless, but usually, we did our part not to fan the flames. Right then though, peering at Jason and seeing his jaw tick and fists clench, I didn't give a fuck who saw.
"Looks like you came all the way here for nothing, friend," Davis said to Jason.
"The offer won't stay on the table forever, Shel," Jason said to me. The threatening edge in his voice was unmistakable.
"Did Victoria ever let you know why I left?" I asked him, working my hand in a slow circle on Davis' chest. He ate and trained like an athlete and had the body to show for it. Pitting the men against each other in terms of attractiveness would come down to personal preference for blonds or brunettes because they were both hot. I didn't care how thick I was laying it on; seeing Jason's reaction to Davis’ closeness to me gave me a rush of satisfaction.
"Because of me?" he asked.
"I think we all know the answer to that question," I said to him. "Come find me when you're done with your little reunion," I said, leaning up to whisper it in Davis' ear. The hand around my shoulders slid down to my waist. Knowing Jason was watching us was spurring me on. I didn't want to use Davis, but right then, with my shock turning into anger and resentment, I wanted to spite Jason for showing up here and having the audacity to act like we were ever friendly.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
"You’ll find me; I’ll be waiting," I said playfully. He laughed as I walked away, leaving the two of them to their conversation. Jason had looked like he had been about to explode. I wouldn't be happy if a fight broke out because of what I had just done, but if one did, Jason would just be proving to all of us exactly how much of an out of touch, egocentric maniac he was. I had basically just let him know firsthand that Davis and I had a thing, but I didn't care who he told. I walked away, smug. Bet he wished he hadn't come to L.A. now.
I heard my name behind me and looked over my shoulder expecting Davis. It was Jason. His jaw was clenched and his face set in rage. There he was; there was the Jason I had had to deal with for eleven months. Constantly angry and looking for a fight. I kept walking. It was too bad if he wanted to talk because this was actually my place of work. I had somewhere to be. I heard him call out to me again, then I felt his hand on my upper arm, stopping me. I turned around to look at him.
"What is it, Jason? I have to get to work."
"Is there something going on between you and Davis?" he asked through gritted teeth. The last year had been kind to him. He looked the same. Handsome, polished, not a hair on that head dared to fall out of place. I actually weighed a few pounds less than I had before having Damien but the pregnancy had definitely left its mark. If I stayed away from my baby for too long, my breasts would start to leak; my hips were wider and I had light white stretch marks along my lower stomach. Davis worshiped my body when we were together. I had my moments when I felt sexy, but since Damien was still milk-dependent, it was easy to feel like my body wasn't mine again yet.
"A lot changes in a year, but I'm glad you stayed the same, Jason," I said, pulling my arm back from him. "Even moving across the country couldn't save me from you." I turned and started walking again.
"I never thought you were the game-playing type, Shel," he said. I stopped myself that time and turned to face him again.
"Game?"
"Going after Davis after we were together. I can see why you would do it; I guess I just expected better."
I laughed in disbelief. Was he jealous? Was trying to make me feel bad for moving on how he needed to make himself feel better?
"If you want to hang onto that, be my guest. It's been a year. How about you stay out of my business and I stay out of yours?" I didn't wait to hear his answer. I stalked away towards the control room. He wouldn't be able to come in after me. I took my seat and tried to focus; we were going on air soon.
Wasn't it you who was sure that everything would go great today, I thought. Yesterday with Damien’s moodines
s and the rushed, disorganized day I had had, I had been sure today was going to be better. Hadn't you played this out in your head a million times already? What you were going to say and do? I had never imagined the meeting with Jason after a year of not seeing him going the way that it had ended up going. Jason was not supposed to have shown up at the studio today. Davis, for that matter, was not supposed to have been there when the two of us met again. Cozying up to Davis that way hadn't been right. I was never that way with him in the office. Jason and my anger in the moment had brought out the worst in me. I couldn't resist reacting to him. I couldn't help it. His presence, the way he spoke to me just got me fired up. I didn't want that. How was I supposed to ignore him when he had gotten around the steps I had taken to stay away from him?
He was still out there too. The control room door had a large window and I could see him pacing the hallway outside. My attention suffered during the broadcast. Now that he was there and would be when I walked out of the control room, I couldn't concentrate. When we finished, I stayed in my seat as the control room emptied. I wasn't in a hurry to leave and deal with Jason. Getting up, I hoped that I would enter the hallway and he'd be gone. I wasn't going to be that lucky. The last time, it had taken moving across the country to get away from him. I didn't have that option now. If I ran, he would chase me, and not in the romantic way.
I took a deep breath before walking out into the hallway. He stopped moving as I went up to him.
"Waiting for Davis?" I asked.
"Nope. Try again," he snarled.
"This sure was a long way to travel just to harass me."
"Harass you?" he scoffed.
"Clearly. That's all you've done since you got here, or was there an actual reason why you came?"
"Would you have met with me if I had asked to see you?"
"No," I said swiftly.
"Then can you blame me for taking matters into my own hands?"
"What do you want? To ask me to come back? The answer is still no."
"Wrong question," he said. "Did something happen the night of the party?"
"The Christmas party last year? You were there, Jason. You know what happened."
"After that," he said.
"After that, I left; what are you talking about?"
"We had sex, Shelby. And then you disappeared. That was a year ago now. Tell you what, you look great for having just had a baby." I blanched.
"What did you say?"
"You do have a baby, right?" he asked. He knew the answer was yes; he just wanted to hear me admit it. My heart hammered in my chest. "I had to hear about it from Trisha. Congratulations."
"Thank you," I said stiffly.
“I didn’t realize it was that serious with Davis,” he said.
“It isn’t.”
“So he’s mine?”
“Who?”
“The baby. Did you get pregnant after the party and not tell me?” he demanded. My jaw dropped. There were people around; I didn’t need anything getting out about Damien.
“Y-you have to be the most conceited man on this earth to think you’re the only person I have had sex with since we hooked up.”
“Then tell me,” he said. “Yes or no, Shel. Is he mine?”
“You’re impossible,” I said, walking away. I heard him follow me. All that time I had to think about telling Jason was gone. He was here now, and if I knew anything about him, he wouldn’t let me go without a fight.
Chapter Eleven
Jason
I looked out the window, down at the traffic clogging the streets. It was only seven in the morning, and everyone in L.A. was already on the road. My room didn't have a balcony but the large windows opened. It was a good day, so nice I forgot for a second that it was almost Christmas. I had ordered room service and was catching up with the news on the TV. Well, I had wanted to catch up with the news when I had turned the TV on, but hadn't made much progress.
Shelby. Shelby and Davis Jacks; the shady article had been right. I grimaced at the thought of the two of them together, the way Davis had had his hands all over her. I could respect the guy as far as our shared profession went but come on: me versus him in every other way? We weren't fighting in the same weight class.
Did it even matter though? Shelby sure hadn't had a problem moving on with him from me. She hadn't had a problem rubbing up on him like a cat in heat in the middle of the damn newsroom. She had had one owning up about the baby. She hadn't given me any clues, but what if her kid was mine? Let's say that he was. That would mean that her secret wasn't just that; it was a lie too since I had asked her straight up whether the kid was mine and she hadn't confirmed that he was. Shit, that would have meant that I'd be missing time with my son. That was fucked up. If I had a kid then I wanted to know; I deserved to know; fuck, so did the kid too. Why would she deprive the kid of two parents just because she and the dad weren't on the same page?
I finished my coffee and got up, walking to the closet. Shelby and I had worked together for a year, but I had never pegged her as a liar. I was pissed, but there was this thing about secrets: they always had a way of coming out in the end. This was one that I was getting out of her, one way or another. I hadn't come here just to go back without closure. I took the towel I had tied around my waist off and started getting dressed. I'll wear her down, I thought. If it turned out that I was wrong, the kid wasn't mine, then fine, whatever, it wouldn’t be my problem anymore.
We could talk paternity over lunch today. She had been flustered after I told her that I knew about her kid yesterday when I had been at her station. She had tried to use the excuse that she was at work and couldn't be talking to me, so I had rescheduled to today. She had probably just said yes so she could get rid of me, but it didn't matter why she had agreed; it mattered that I'd get her alone. Hopefully, without any distractions, I'd be able to get the truth out of her.
I was actually looking forward to seeing her again. She had been under my skin for the year that we'd been apart, and it was actually great seeing her. She wanted almost nothing to do with me, but that was right on brand with the Shelby. All of that was happening later though. I wasn't on vacation. I was still working, and there was news everywhere, all the time. The only way I would have been allowed to travel would have been if I had wanted to chase a story, so I had found one.
I had heard about it back in New York. There was trouble with the port workers at San Pedro again. In my eight years reporting, there had been strikes at the Long Beach and L.A. ports at least twenty times, probably more. It had always been something: from union trouble to demands for lower emission cargo trucks because the pollution was getting bad. I was hoping that I'd be able to talk to the picketers, maybe get someone who had been around long enough to see what changes had or hadn't happened over the years for a human-interest piece. I had already communicated with a union spokesperson, and I was meeting my cameraman at the site.
I worked mainly from the studio, but sometimes I would still go out and report from different scenes. It was all part of the job, especially since I had traveled, but it was different from being in the studio. There was this automatic authority that the person sitting at the news desk got. I preferred the more controlled environment that the studio was. Nobody got in your shot when they weren't supposed to be there; you didn't have to worry about sun, wind, rain, anything like that. And the interviews? Let's just say it isn't everyone who has had years of on-camera training and knows what to do when one is pointed at them.
At the same time though, the interviews were valuable. I was the anchor, so everyone sort of just believed me when I said things, but a story just hit harder when you heard it from whoever it belonged to. I hadn't heard about the story on the news this morning or last night; maybe Davis and his people hadn't picked it up yet. Good. I mean, I was coming in from New York; what excuse did he have not to know what was happening right in his backyard?
The morning went by pretty fast after we got to the scene. People were p
icketing and chanting, backing up movement in and out of the port. After getting shots of the picketers, we got to work filming interviews. The complaints were generally that the guys who drove the cargo trucks were missing out on thousands of dollars a year because of misclassification and subcontracting from trucking companies. One man we talked to, fifty-year-old father of four, had been trucking for almost seventeen years and had nothing but complaints.
I couldn't really empathize since I had very little to complain about in my job, but hey, if they were being dogged, they had a right to shut it down till their demands were met. The city would actually suffer if they didn't come to work, even if people didn't give a second thought to their job day to day. It took the whole morning to film and shoot the segment, dialing into the studio. I felt pretty smug by the time I was going back to the hotel. It hadn't been that bad. More than the human-interest angle of reporting, I got off on the status, being the one with the knowledge. We could sway the public any way we wanted with our reporting, and it was a good thing there were so many people in a newsroom so that didn't happen.
It was after one when I got back to the hotel. I had asked Shelby to come by during her lunch break. It was already twenty minutes past one. I entered the lobby and scanned it for her, smirking when I saw her stand and walk towards me. She was in her usual work gear: blouse and fitted skirt, hair up. Her arms were crossed, and she could have turned me to stone with the look on her face. I was late.
Chapter Twelve
Shelby
I looked down at my phone, watching the time go from one fifteen to one sixteen. Ten more minutes, I decided. He had ten more minutes to show up. If he didn't, then I was out of there. His loss. He was the one who had asked me to come here, and he had the gall to be late?
Why was I surprised? This was Jason Bowman we were talking about. Had I already forgotten what kind of guy he was? He was so used to the world revolving around him that the fact that it didn't was news. And here my ass is, I thought bitterly. I had been waiting in the lobby of his hotel for him to show up for ten minutes now. He had asked me to meet him for lunch, and you know what? Maybe it was me who had made the mistake by saying yes.