by Claire Adams
"The name's familiar," he said.
"Christmas party hookup a year ago?" I said, trying to jog his memory. His face lit up, remembering.
"Oh yeah. The woman who used to write for you. I thought that had just been a one-time thing."
"It ended up being one, but not because I didn't want to keep seeing her. She quit and moved here after that."
"That was because of you?" he asked. "I thought it was because a station here had poached her or something." I started at the beginning, telling him what had happened, from the day that Shelby had quit to that past weekend when I had left flowers for her at her apartment after seeing her and her kid at the park.
"So it's a chick," he said, with a bemused look on his face.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because the last time I saw you this hung up on a girl you were nineteen and we were in sophomore year."
"No, this is different, Lake."
"How?"
"I don't know. It just is. I can't stop thinking about her. I'm here blowing off work so I can try to get her back."
"Is she interested in you?"
"We hooked up just last week."
"Not like that. You said you want her, I'm guessing that means more than just sex."
"Yeah, so?"
"So, since you're still here, whatever you're doing hasn't worked."
"What are you saying?"
"I've seen the way you treat women." I frowned.
"Hey, I don't smack them around."
"I know you don't, but you don't treat them well either." I stared at him.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You don't stick with anyone for longer than a couple months. You approach women like you can't wait to forget them. The only difference between you and a cave man is you don't beat them over the head with a club first. You're not going to get your girl back acting like that."
"What? I'm supposed to date every girl who looks at me for two years and meet her family? A lot of those girls only approach me because they want a hookup. They're not interested in the long term, so I don't make it an option." Lake stared at me from across the table, leaning forward in his seat.
"Jason. You're one of those men who women can't get enough of," he started. "You've been full of yourself since I met you, but it's only gotten worse the bigger you've gotten. It's not your fault that you attract groupies. It is your fault that you're so used to them that you don't know how to act around real women."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"This woman, Shelby? She's rejected you already, multiple times, so I know she doesn't buy into your bullshit. She doesn't think it's attractive. You said she has a kid, right? One you think might be yours? Then you need to man up, my friend. That's what she wants. She's done with the games."
"Man, you haven't even met her."
"I don't need to have met her to know that what a professional woman with a child wants and what a twenty-two-year-old groupie wants are different," he insisted.
"Yeah, and you're the expert at this?" I challenged. His last relationship had ended several months before, and he hadn't started dating again yet. It hadn't been a bad split; they had broken it off because the woman had had to move away and they hadn't wanted to be long distance. Still, who was he to talk? He could tell me how to get Shelby back when he had himself a wife and kids at home. Far as I could remember, both of us were single.
"You don't have to listen to me," he said, shrugging. "I'm just saying. What you've been doing obviously hasn't worked, it makes sense to try something different."
"Something different," I murmured.
"Not just anything. I mean changing your technique completely. If you're serious, then show her that you are. Be considerate; how about that? See what she wants, what she needs from you. Treat her like you want to keep her around, and she'll respond." I thought about that. I didn't want to admit it, but he had a point. I wanted Shelby, and everything I had done so far to get her hadn't worked, why would this? I was getting close to the point where I felt like it didn't matter my approach; any way I came at her, she'd deny.
What did I have to lose though? Not her. I didn't have her... not yet. I was giving up a lot to be here; I didn't want to go back to New York before I had her back. I wasn't going to. Lake seemed to know what he was talking about. If nothing else, he had just suggested I change the way I approached her. Why not? At this point, I was ready to try anything.
Chapter Sixteen
Shelby
"Shelby Aster?"
I looked up from my computer hearing my name. A man in a uniform I didn't recognize was looking at me quizzically.
"I'm Shelby," I said.
"Then these are for you," he said, handing me what he had been holding. A bouquet of red roses. I could feel a few people’s eyes on me as I received them.
"Who are they from?" I asked.
"There's a note," he said shortly. I thanked him and let him go. He was just the messenger; he wouldn't even have the answers that I wanted. I sat down, admiring the stems. They were nice. I found the note hidden inside, even though I didn't have to read it to know who the flowers had come from.
For you, the note said. From Jason.
The ones that I had gotten over the weekend were still in a vase on my dining table; where am I going to put these, I wondered idly. They were pretty. I appreciated the gesture. I didn't know anybody who disliked receiving flowers. We hadn't talked since Sunday when he had shown up at the park, but this was the second bouquet that I had received.
He was... I didn't know what he was doing. Trying. He was trying. At last, he was reaching out in a way that was subtle and surprise, surprise, actually being a bit of a gentleman. I should thank him for them, I thought. That was the least I could do, wasn't it? I still wasn't clear on what he wanted: to apologize, or to do something else. Something else like maybe come onto me. Whatever; both were working if that had been his angle.
There was something there. I was attracted to him, but his enormous ego and narcissism were big enough turn-offs to keep me away. I couldn't get used to receiving things from him. This thing wasn't permanent; it couldn't be. He had to go back to New York, and I wasn't leaving with him. So what then? What was the point of all of this?
Maybe he would want to meet up, I thought. Maybe, even though he was going back, there was a way I'd be able to tell him that Damien was his son. He still didn't know, and it had been weighing on me since he had cornered us at the park on Sunday. Was what I felt really more important than Damien knowing who his father was? As much as I wanted to protect him from the toxic person I knew Jason could be, was I making a mistake? If Damien grew up and found out that I had willfully kept him from his dad, would he be upset with me?
I had more questions than I had answers and more fears than I had either of those combined. I got up and went to the break room for a quick coffee before the pre-broadcast meeting. I sipped it gratefully at my desk, getting back to work. The days right before a break always seemed to drag by the slowest for some cruel reason. It was Christmas Eve. I was getting a week off until the New Year, thank God. It couldn't start soon enough. I loved my job, but I loved vacations too.
I didn't even have any fancy plans to fly out anywhere or anything like that. I was staying at home with my baby, celebrating his first Christmas. I had already apologized to my parents for not being able to make it, but they had had Damien and me for Thanksgiving already. It was the combination of me not really wanting to make the road trip again so soon and just wanting to stay home. We could talk on Skype.
Frank, my stepdad, would understand, and he'd convince Mom. He was very much like my father had been: laid back and understanding; I guess that was my mom's type. When my dad had died, I had been graduating from college. I had wanted to move back to North Carolina to be with my mom, but she had basically chased me back to New York after the funeral, saying she'd be fine. A few years later, she had met Fr
ank. He had entered my life when I was already an adult, so he had never really raised me. We were more like friends, I guess. He had been there when Damien had been born, and I guessed if I ever got married, he'd be the one who would walk me down the aisle. He and my mother finding each other in their fifties gave me hope, in a way. I wasn't looking for anything at the moment, but it was nice to know that it was always out there, that never giving up could pay off.
I was exhausted by the time work was up, but happy. I was always happy to see my little man after work. I rode the elevator down and walked out, starting for the daycare. The sight of Jason and Davis stopped me in my tracks. Really, Jason? I was just starting to get sweet on you again. You had to go ruin it like this?
I slowed down, walking towards them. He was impossible, and he drove me crazy, but damn if he didn't look even better in real life than he did on TV. He was in a t-shirt and jeans, which nobody had any right to look as sexy as he did in them. His arms were crossed, and his muscular biceps strained against the fabric of his shirt. He was kind of showing up Davis a little, who was in a slate gray full suit.
God, the other day in his hotel room. I had not forgotten that. It was more than a little aggravating, the way he made me feel. I wanted him to leave me alone so I could get my life back, but then I also wanted him to lay me down and pound me again. I couldn't have him do those two things at the same time, unfortunately. He looked over and noticed me first, saying something to Davis who looked over his shoulder and noticed me too.
"Merry Christmas if I don't see you again, all right?" I heard Davis say to him.
"You too," Jason said, grinning at him. Davis addressed me politely before walking back towards the elevators, the way I had come. Coward, I thought. For the guy who seemed to be having no problem relating to me in the office now that our thing was over, he couldn't face Jason when I was around?
"You're back," I said, looking at Jason.
"It's good to see you too," he said wryly.
"I didn't realize you and Davis were so close."
"We aren't. Colleagues at best."
"Then why are you here?" I asked.
"I wanted to catch you before you left."
"Well, congratulations. You did it."
"I need to talk to you."
"I have to pick my baby up and go home. You're out of luck today."
"I see you got the flowers," he said, looking at the bouquet in my hand.
"I did. Thanks, by the way," I said, sighing. We were awkward when we weren't fighting. I didn't really know why he wasn't already yelling or why I wasn't already irritated with him.
"I sent them because I want to start over. I know I messed up. The truth is, I want another chance... with you."
"If this has anything to do with work—”
"It doesn't. I know your place is here now and you're happy. I meant me. I want another chance." I swallowed. The thing with Jason had always just been a thing. We had never named it, and it had been so sporadic that I wanted to say it hardly counted. I could have said that if I was going to ignore the enormous attraction I felt towards him. I wasn't a child; I knew that the red roses were more than just a peace offering.
"Don't you think it's too late?"
"If it was, you wouldn't be talking to me right now," he said. He was right.
"Why would this time even be different?" I asked.
"Because I know I was wrong. This time, I don't want to take my chances. Tell me what I need to do." My eyes widened.
"What?"
"How can I prove to you that I'm serious? I know you have no reason to trust me. I want to give you one." I looked at Jason, half expecting his face to melt off, revealing an android face underneath. The last time he had looked or sounded like this had been... had been the night that Damien had been conceived. I didn't know this Jason, the one who was earnest and wanted to listen to me instead of yell. I searched his face, looking for a sign that I shouldn't trust what he was telling me.
"There is nothing you can do."
"There has to be something, Shel. I'll do anything."
"Then quit your job," I said, only realizing what I had told him when it was already out. He blanched.
"What?"
"You heard me," I said, straightening up. "Your job gives you a power trip. It feeds your ego; it's part of the reason you're like this."
"Shelby, I can't just quit." I shrugged.
"Okay. Then don't. You asked me what it would take, and that's it. Find something that doesn't play into your narcissism and maybe I'll believe that you're serious." I walked away having said my piece. I went to the daycare and got Damien, looking forward to the week off I'd get to spend with him. During that time, Jason would fly his ass back to New York, and I'd see him back on TV in no time, doing the only thing he knew how to do. He wasn't serious. His track record had given me no reason to believe him. I'd trust him when he gave me a reason to.
Chapter Seventeen
Jason
"As you can see behind me, the Hollywood Christmas Parade is in full swing. It might not snow here in the City of Angels, but who says you need snow for Christmas spirit?"
Davis had this scar on his face; I had noticed it years ago back in school, and he had mentioned that he had gotten it as a kid, on his forehead that disappeared into his hairline. Whenever I watched him on TV, I couldn't stop looking at where I knew it was, even when it was covered with makeup. He was on now, reporting on the Hollywood Christmas Parade that was holding up the already bad traffic on Hollywood Boulevard.
It was Christmas day. I was at a hotel in front of the television in Los Angeles, drinking eggnog, alone. The only difference from any other year was I wasn't in New York. Oh, and I could walk outside in a t-shirt and not get hypothermia. I didn't buy into the whole Christmas thing, not for myself. I mailed gifts to my nieces and nephews, but the decorating and stuff didn't make sense for me since I was alone. That was the other thing: Christmas day was usually just another work day for me. It was a little weird being in front of the TV for a change instead of on it.
The coverage was good; Davis was a good reporter too, but the broadcast was doing nothing to get me into the Christmas spirit. I had spent more time thinking about Shelby than I had actually been with her and that was a problem. Maybe I would have had a reason to celebrate if we had gotten together today. Maybe she could have brought the baby and, I don't know, we could have even gone to watch that fucking parade.
I wasn't narcissistic. She must have just been angry and thrown the first insult she could think of at me yesterday when we had talked. At least she had stopped and actually spoken to me. What she had said though wasn't the best thing in the world that I could have heard. I drank down some more eggnog, clearing the glass; it had been a special for Christmas day, so I had ordered some through room service. I was getting a little sick of hotel food. I was getting sick of living in a hotel room too.
Shit, if it's like that, what are you still doing here, I asked myself. Just leave. Get a red-eye, and you'll be back at your place tomorrow morning. I had underestimated Shelby. I had felt that she'd be easier to get to. I don't know why; we had butted heads enough while we had worked together, so it made sense that we did now. She had told me what I had to do to get her to talk to me though. Yesterday, I hadn't been sure that she hadn't been trying to mess with me. I still wasn't all the way sure that she wasn't, but she had asked me what she had for a reason.
I never thought I'd see the day when I was thinking about walking away, especially for a reason like this one. I mean, what did I want more? My job, or Shelby? Which one would I feel worse about losing?
How many more women would I meet who were like Shelby? That didn't matter because none of them would actually be her. She was the reason I had come here, the reason I was still here. Our relationship wasn't good, it wasn't easy or simple, but no woman had ever been as memorable as she had been to me. She was stubborn, so stubborn I thought sometimes she just did it to spite me. She w
as beautiful. When we were together, it was intense; it was real. She was giving me a chance, and all she wanted was for me to walk away from WRTC.
One had to go, and it wasn't going to be Shelby.
It was bad form to do this over the phone. It was Christmas day, and I hadn't given Victoria notice, but shit, she'd just have to make it work. I would too. I couldn't wait anymore. There was no good enough reason why I was still holding out on her. I knew that I wanted things to keep going with Shelby. I also knew that I didn't want to be in New York when she was here. That was enough. I put the phone to my ear and waited.
"Jason?"
"Victoria, hey. I hope this isn't a bad time. I had to speak to you," I said, glancing at the wall clock to check the time difference.
"In fact, it isn't a good time for me to talk right now. Get back to me in about two hours."
"It'll only take a minute," I insisted.
"A couple days ago you were calling me to discuss taking a leave of absence. What now?"
"I'm not coming back, Victoria. I quit." The line went silent, and I thought that she had hung up on me.
"Is this some sort of joke?" she spat
"What? No."
"Is this your way of trying to get yourself a raise? Because if it is, you're not getting one. This is unprofessional, and you know that."
"No, Victoria. I'm serious. The head anchor position at WRTC is officially open. I'm done."
"Stop that," she said dismissively.
"I don't even plan on coming back to New York. I'm done, Victoria."
"Did you get a better offer there? With who?" she demanded. Even if I had, I wouldn't have taken it. Getting another anchor job would defeat the purpose of quitting this one.
"That's all I called you to say," I said.
"Bullshit," she said. She was mad now. She was usually levelheaded, so much that she came off cold sometimes but she was off now.
"I know it's inconvenient."
"Inconvenient? You couldn't have chosen a worse time to back out of your contract." I nodded, looking at the ground. She didn't need to spell it out for me. It had all come down to what I wanted and what I was willing to give up to have it. I wanted Shelby, and this was the price I had to pay to be, to even start being a part of her life again. I probably would have given up a lot more too if she had asked me to do it.