A New York Minute

by Ember Leigh

  Paige being upset with him was one thing, the deception put forth by Bridgette was another, but the sheer distance between him and any chance of rectifying this was what pained him the most. He felt the weight of this distance, from Hawaii to New York, not just in miles but in hopeless wishes that he’d ever get Paige to hear him out. It was oppressive—he didn’t know where to start or how, but going through the doorway started there. Fuck the show, the island, the contract—he didn’t want it. Any of it.

  He burst through the door of the newsroom and headed toward set, finding Bridgette admiring herself in the hand mirror once more. Josh resumed his seat beside her, jaw clenched as he searched for a place to begin. He took a deep breath.

  “Everything okay, Joshi?”

  Her voice made his skin crawl. “Not so much.”

  “Why? It’s a beautiful day, life is perfect.” Her face was as incredulous as that time a year ago he’d suggested high heels didn’t have a functional place within society.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you kicked Paige and Gary off the island?”

  The hand mirror lowered to her lap so slowly he thought life had shifted to slow motion. When she looked at him, there was surprise and hurt there, though just the stock version, the kind people paid a price for. “I didn’t kick them off, Joshi. I just reorganized the crew, because Paige wanted out of her contract. They didn’t really have a place here anymore. Why should we pay for people’s rooms if they aren’t working here?”

  “That wasn’t part of the deal,” he hissed, hands shaking. “That’s my job, Bridgette. You went outside your role in a huge way. I cannot believe—”

  “Go outside my role? What about your role? Part of the deal was that you keep yourself off Paige. Seeing how you’re unable to do that, I took matters into my own hands.” She leveled him with her gaze, eyes blazing and mouth in a thin red line.

  Josh watched her for a moment, his heart pounding. This was a woman with good connections, too much ego, and the perfect dearth of remorse to accomplish anything she attempted.

  A formidable, powerful combination. One that reminded him of himself at the beginning, one that would have attracted him long ago. Except he wasn’t the same Josh who had scampered into the business all those years ago, making his way up rung by rung by any means necessary.

  Now that he was at the top, it was scary looking down—not because he was afraid of the fall itself as he’d deluded himself into thinking, but because all the people following on the ladder were hungry sharks themselves. All he wanted to do was make it to dry land—in this case, the continent.

  “If you want to keep this deal and your money, I suggest you shut up and film.” Her voice had a firm, snotty edge—perfect for getting her way and maneuvering the business, he’d give her that.

  The money. It was millions at this point and it was already earmarked in his budget for a vacation home in Maine, or maybe somewhere down south, like Puerto Vallarta; he hadn’t decided yet. Fuck, the money. The words clanked with triumph and terror inside his head. Fuck. The money.

  “Fuck the money,” he said finally, eyes still steady on the side of her face. She snapped her head to look at him.

  “What did you say?”

  “Fuck the money. I don’t want it. You can keep it. Take whatever you want, but I’m out.”

  His heart rate had picked up, and he was dizzy again, unable to breathe as his brain scrambled to understand the words coming out of his mouth and make connections between where this Josh had come from and why he was actively breaking the contract. These were words that had never come out of his mouth, not once in his life—so taboo he’d never even written them down. His hands went clammy.

  “You’re insane,” she hissed at him, leaning close. “I don’t believe you for a second. Just try to break this contract.”

  “I’m done.” He stood. His legs were weak, and by now the crew had caught on to the shift in energy. All eyes were on them.

  “Joshi.” Her voice was strained and he caught an edge of desperation. “Sit the hell down and shut up. We are about to film.”

  His knees bent to sit down but he righted himself. This train was in motion, there was no hopping off half-way. “I’m done. I want out of it.” The words echoed, foreign to his ears, and for a split second, he was completely buoyed by the blankness of the path before him. He’d tossed the script and was left with the scary thrill of improv that swung wildly between uplifting and crippling from one moment to the next.

  Her chest rose and fell quickly. “Why? Why do you…what are you talking about? Joshi, I—”

  “I don’t want to do this.” Something dislodged inside his chest and swung wide open. The relief this provided was unexpected, and the feeling in his legs and arms came back. He could breathe a bit easier. Holy shit, Josh, you’re doing it. It’s happening. “I don’t want to do this. That’s all.”

  Bridgette’s eyes were wide, churning with disbelief. Then her mouth snapped shut, and she shouted at the director, “We’ll be back. Five minutes, please.”

  She led him off set into a grove of palms toward the hotel. She shoved him onto a bench and stood over him, arms crossed over her red, cleavage-heavy top.

  “Explain to me what the heck is going on, Joshi. You’re not acting like yourself. You’re acting like a crazy person.”

  “There’s nothing to explain.” The gears that had ground to a halt in his brain earlier were working again, thoughts appearing with ease as his understanding grew clearer with each passing moment. “I don’t want to be a part of this show anymore. I don’t want to be a part of this deal anymore. That’s all.”

  “You can’t just leave,” she spat. “That’s what deals are for. I mean, this is what we’ve built. Together. You can’t just walk away from this. From us!”

  “I can, though.” He felt like this moment was unfolding in slow-motion, the final steps toward a precipice he’d been avoiding for years. With one foot dangling over the edge, about to shift his weight into the unknowable expanse beyond, he wasn’t even scared or clinging to the side. He didn’t want to go back—he could only move forward. This show, this deal, and this life were keeping him back.

  “You can’t,” Bridgette said shakily.

  “I can. We might have started this together, but you’ve taken the reins now. It’s yours—isn’t that what you wanted anyway? Full control? Like kicking Gary and Paige off the island.”

  “Oh don’t even bring that up again. I need you here, don’t you get that? It doesn’t work without you.”

  “You know what? It didn’t work with me in the first place. I’m over this shit.” Pleasure sparked under his skin, pushing more of the tumult out through his mouth. “If you fuck people, expect to get fucked. I’ve done it enough myself to know this is the only truth in the business. And I’m over it—done.”

  He stood to leave but she blocked the path. Her glare hardened into steel. “You’re not leaving. You’ll get over this. Just shut up and come back to set.”

  “I’m leaving. Right now.”

  “No, you’re not. There’s a no-back-out clause in the contract. You can’t leave.”

  “It comes with a price tag, honey. One I’m willing to pay.” He searched for his wallet. “What do you want, a blank check? I’ll write one for you right now.”

  “No, Joshi.” Bridgette dropped her arms to her side with a huff and sounded like she might cry. “That’s not what I want. I want you! I want you to stay here and do the job you promised you’d do!”

  He let a sarcastic snort of laughter. “Really? The job I promised you flew out the window the minute you went behind my back and fired two of our employees. You’re fucked, Bridgette. I have no sympathy. You lied to my face when you said you had no idea where they were this morning. You orchestrated the whole damn thing.”

  “Just like you lied to me when you said there was nothing between you and Paige.” Her voice came out strained and shrill, lip trembling. When he walked away she didn’t
stop him. As he neared the door, she shouted,

  “Joshi, turn around right now. I mean it! It’s now or never!”

  He paused, then swiveled on his heels. Bridgette stood her ground, eyes watery and hands balled into fists.

  “If you walk through that door I’ll make sure your career is ruined. You know I can do that.”

  “My name is Josh, for fuck’s sake. Do whatever you want. I’m leaving.”

  He walked into the hotel, a smile on his face, chest feeling more open and freer than it had in almost a decade.

  Chapter Twelve

  Paige had been Josh clean for two weeks and counting. Hawaii already felt like a distant nightmare. She and Gary were back on track, elbow-deep with project ideas and networking.

  She worked part-time at the WBLQ radio station, hosting her own show dealing with all things single, modern, and working female. Her daily spot aired from one to two p.m., which allowed her ample time to continue full-steam ahead on other projects and dreaming up the next big thing.

  Paige was surprisingly content—she hadn’t envisioned actually liking what came after the cancellation. The freedom of leaving the island and deciding to cut Josh out completely had been an unexpected boost in her life. She was still just as fierce and viable as ever, and what’s more, with new challenges to shred and conquer before her.

  Gary popped his head into her office. “Sushi for late lunch?”

  “Yeah, let’s do that.” She rifled through some stacks of papers on her desk. Organization had been postponed due to the unexpected workload surge. She had her laptop to one side of the desk, two work cell phones in front of her, papers and folders splayed haphazardly, and an oversized mug within arm’s reach with too-cold coffee inside.

  “Great. Hey, you ever gonna clean this place up? It still looks like a war zone—you should have all this organized by now.”

  She cleared her throat, sending Gary a pointed glance. “I’ve been busy. We’ve been busy. I think I’m stuck in the too many projects boat again. I’ll clean it up by the weekend, I promise.”

  “Put a little personality in here, too, for God’s sake.” Gary gestured to the walls, which were a sterile white with one generic flower photo by the door. “It feels like a doctor’s office in here. A very messy doctor’s office with a notable lack of nurses.”

  Paige laughed. “Fine, fine. But don’t you think I need to concentrate on projects and not interior design? This is my part-time office, after all.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to exercise a little tenderness with your surroundings. Besides, you’re not the only one using this office. I come in here too, ya know.”

  “You have a point. I’ll make it nicer, I promise. But by the weekend. Today I want to get the programming planned for the next week, and then work on researching new show upstarts.”

  Gary nodded. “Okay. Good show today, by the way. You killed it, as usual.”

  “Did you like the whole ‘celibacy’ part? I didn’t go too far?”

  “I think it’s classic Paige. You marry the job, you’re getting laid by your spouse, technically…it’s not a man. And doesn’t involve sex.”

  Paige snickered. “Exactly. I suppose we’ll see what sort of feedback I get. I don’t want women to think I’m saying they shouldn’t have partners or find spouses…”

  “Except, you really are saying that.”

  Paige shot him a look. “No, I’m not recommending it, per se…I’m sharing it’s been my personal choice. Other women can choose it as an option. If they want.”

  “That’s why I liked it. You’ve always done a good job of being faithful to your spouse…your job, that is.” He paused, a grin creeping to his lips. “Except, of course, for your brief stint of infidelity in Hawaii…”

  “I told you to never bring that up,” she said tersely. “We act like it never happened.”

  “Fine, fine. Except…” Gary paused, lifting his index finger to his lips. “You’ve got a mighty pile of voicemails from that guy.”

  “What do you mean? He hasn’t called once.”

  “Yeah, to your new number, which he doesn’t have.” He rolled his eyes. “Figures. I try to get a deal by buying your old smart phone and Paige Alexander’s spurned lovers leave voicemails day and night.”

  Something flopped in her gut and she rejected the idea before it wriggled deeper and rooted. She cleared her throat. “Just delete them.”

  “Aren’t you at all curious to know what he says?”

  She hesitated. “No. That’s why I got rid of the phone.”

  Gary shrugged. “Have it your way. Call me when you’re done and we’ll Noori roll on out of here.” He shut the door behind him.

  Paige returned to work, but the voice mails nagged at her. What had he said? It was for the best to not indulge at all—just ignore the problem and it will die out—but even after a couple weeks, her mind wandered back to Josh more often than she liked to admit.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she muttered, resuming her organization. What could he possibly say that would make anything better? He was who he was. People like that never changed. He was probably back to banging Bridgette and rolling around in dollar bills.

  Paige wasn’t certain whether he’d ever done either of those things, but it seemed typical for him. Better to imagine him that way than anything involving a conscience or change. Made it easier for her to patch up the brick wall he’d somehow broken through.

  She turned to her laptop and opened a search engine in secret browsing mode, curious to see how their show was doing over the past few weeks.

  Multiple headlines resulted. Lover Boy Lambert ditches latest creation. IBC versus Lambert heats up in court. Wakin’ Up Gets Put to Bed. Paige couldn’t believe her eyes. Every headline had a date from within the past several days. What the hell had happened while she’d been holed up in New York?

  Paige clicked over to the images tab guiltily, frustrated by her desire to look at his face, even in pixel form. God, she’d admit it—she’d been avoiding this search on him since setting foot on the mainland. The images showcased the full gamut of his involvement in the entertainment business. Professional headshots from when he hosted and acted featured a much younger Josh Lambert, still chiseled yet somehow baby faced. Other photos highlighted his professional life, shots with producers and executives in every setting from red-carpet events to board meetings.

  Josh had a pronounced following. Links to fan groups and forum discussions debated whether or not he was really with such-and-such actress, speculation regarding his sexual orientation, and more than enough comments about how hot he was.

  It wasn’t all glowing. There were discussions started by people who had worked with him in the past, lambasting him for being a prick, a hoity-toity asshole, pretty boy, the list went on. The public loved him, and loved to hate him.

  A few pages deep, a link appeared to a popular celebrity-scandal publication named Celebs Being Bad that mentioned him in connection to a famous actress several years back, tagging Josh as the behind-the-scenes heart throb unwilling to commit, which led to a nasty breakup and a brief public backlash in support of the spurned actress.

  So he had a history of breaking women’s heart. Paige bristled. Though her heart hadn’t been broken—just momentarily confused. At any rate, Josh was a free-range bachelor and drifted from woman to woman without much regard for morals or sensitivity. End of story.

  Paige clicked back to a picture most resembling the Josh she’d known on the island, saved it to her computer, and then slammed her laptop shut. It was the only form of pornography she’d allow on her hard drive, and it would be used only sparingly, to be looked at when she needed to indulge a few moments of dreamy-eyed recollection

  This compromise satisfied her, but as she resumed her work, thoughts of Josh refused to dissolve. What really decorated her I-hate-Josh cake, as Gary had lovingly phrased it once, was the fact that she was secretly desperate to see him. To be near him, even if all she did was
glare at him. What sense is that? You’re acting insane.

  Insane or not, it was clear to her that despite her best efforts, Josh Lambert was yet again the infuriating exception to the rule for how Paige preferred to manage her life.

  She snatched up her phone and called Gary. “I’m ready for sushi. Let’s Noori roll out of here, Gare.”

  An hour later, she and Gary munched happily on dumplings, deep in speculation about Josh and the recent events with IBC.

  “I can’t say a part of me isn’t feeling terribly vindicated.” She swirled a dumpling in soy sauce. “Didn’t expect him to jump out of bed with IBC, though.”

  “That’s the part I don’t understand. From the sounds of it, he took a hit leaving. They’re suing him; not the other way around. He knew that would happen. He had to know it would happen.”

  Paige remained quiet, eyes on the food.

  “Maybe when he calls your phone again, I’ll pick up and have a little chat with him,” Gary said.

  “I’d be interested to hear. I mean, not because…I… It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Is it too far-fetched to think maybe he woke up and realized what he was messed up in?” He grinned. “Ah, who knows? I liked Josh, really. I thought he had a lot of potential. You know, to be a normal human being.”

  Paige sighed, biting her tongue.

  “I know you did too—you don’t have to say it.”

  “Very briefly,” she said. “And I regret it.”

  “No regrets. Come on. We all make mistakes.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing away the sudden, piercing memory of when Josh had taken her aside in the newsroom that day and told her maybe it would be better if you left…I can pretend this never happened. The way he’d looked at her then was so raw. She might never be able to erase the memory of his eyes.

  “You’re right. It’s part of life. I just don’t know what I was thinking…that island made us go a little crazy, don’t you think?”

  “It was an intriguing combination of island air and those people,” Gary said. “But hey, I don’t think anybody can blame you for being seduced by Josh Lambert. I almost was myself.”