by Deb Lee
“No one’s dead,” she croaked. “Yet.”
Oh, dear God. In the background Sophie heard someone chanting. Charlie stayed silent.
Sophie gripped her cell phone so hard her fingers tingled. “If you don’t say something, I’m going to freak out.”
“We have a small situation. Emphasis on the small.”
“Okaaaaaay, just how small?”
“Like really small. You know . . . beady-eyed teeny-tiny.”
What was Charlie talking about? Maybe someone else could explain. “Is Tanya with you?”
“Tanya’s a little freaked out right now. She’s on a chair in the corner of your office with a broom and a crucifix reciting the ‘Hail Mary.’”
And that would explain the chanting. “Why is Tanya on a chair with a broom and cross?”
The milliseconds elongated to an interstellar time lapse. “Charlie?”
“Because the small problem might be of a rodent nature.”
“Oh, jeez. Oh, God.”
“Yeah, that’s what Tanya’s saying”
“Charlie. Rip off the Band-Aid. What’s going on?”
The few key words Sophie did catch served as a vise clamping onto her swollen chest. Words like “unintentional” and “health department” and “rats.”
Chapter 23
Ryan closed the door to his cabin and pulled out the collective notes he made on each employee for how they would fit with Jazz. Not that the merge was finalized—though it was just a matter of time, but Phil would want answers.
He tossed the files on the bed. Squeezing his eyes shut, he cracked his neck and sucked in a deep, rigid breath, releasing it slowly. Sophie seemed like she’d seen a ghost when she walked back into the meeting after taking a call. He looked for her, but she and Amy slipped out right after the meeting was over.
He checked the time and grabbed his cell phone, quickly dialing Phil in San Antonio.
“Phil speaking.” The bad connection on the other end of the line shrieked. Ryan jerked the phone from his ear and put it on speaker.
“Just checking in, boss,” Ryan said, slipping on some khaki shorts and grabbing a shirt out of his luggage. He never bothered using the empty drawers when traveling.
“You got anything for me?”
Other than a slight headache from a hangover I don’t remember earning and a touch of unease over my old girlfriend? “Just getting ready to head to shore for a bit. I’m going to visit an old friend.”
“Well, I have news. Great news, actually.”
Ryan stopped moving. “What’s that?”
“The merge is approved. We’ll likely be ready to transition by the end of the month. Next month’s periodical will be Up Front’s last.”
Ryan jerked his head toward the phone. “Say that again.”
“I know. I haven’t seen a merge approved that fast in, well, ever. It was a unanimous decision.”
“But what about the team here. The training we’ve done and their individual lives. I mean we’re talking about health insurance and little league and college tuitions. These people need time to figure out how they’re going to make ends meet.”
Phil’s gravelly voice broke through the sketchy speaker. “It’s not personal, Ryan. We have a bottom line and are required by law to do what’s best for our stockholders. Finish up the training like nothing has changed, we still want to keep our best writers.”
Ryan raked both hands down his face. His stubble scratched his palms. “It’s just so soon.”
“I know. And you’re doing a good job, son. I’m sending you a file with merge info on it. Read it over and get back to me with your thoughts. I’ll be there next week to address the office. We expect to extend a handful of positions over at Jazz. But as you know, most of the work is freelance.”
“But the rest? What about them?”
“That’s why we need you to vet our best. You’re the eyes and ears for Over the Top and I’m relying on you to get the job done. Make good notes. Over the next week, you can review their employee files and make time to meet with our best prospects.”
Next week? Ryan lurched his whole body around and about pulled a calf muscle. There was no way he could make that sort of decision with a few days’ notice. He snatched up the cell phone and clicked off the speaker. “I need more time, Phil. I need to do background checks, look over stats, check records. This isn’t my area of expertise.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“And then what happens?”
“As a board member, I’ll do Red Goldberg’s exit interview Friday morning since he’s retiring anyway. That way this will ensure a smooth transition when I introduce the newest e-mag team members to Sports Now’s next editor in chief. The rest will be handed over to HR. They will handle the severance packages and complete the layoffs. You can start Monday morning as the interim while Up Front finishes their last run.”
“What about the Series? What about my app?”
“You will have people who can handle that.”
People? Ryan didn’t want people to do his job. He shoved a hand through his hair. Damn. He wasn’t even sure he wanted the editor position. Not at the cost of all these jobs. The jobs of people he’d gotten to know. It was all happening too fast. “Just like that. The magazine closes?” He trudged into the bathroom and grabbed a few more ibuprofen, dropped his head back and tossed them in. This quick phone call just turned his slight headache into a pending migraine.
“You sound surprised. It’s okay, son. I was nervous the first time I had to let an entire team go, too. Things are moving fast due to a breach of info. Didn’t you get my email?”
Between the cocktail party and seeing Sophie, he hadn’t thought to check his email again. “Not yet.”
“It’s all outlined there,” Phil continued. “Read it over.”
“Shouldn’t we privy Sports Now to my promotion first?” If he accepted it.
“Ideally, but you’re already there and we can’t cut a main artery without immediately clotting the bleed.”
Ryan pressed his thumb and finger in his eyes. “English, please.”
“The board doesn’t want to announce closing Up Front without simultaneously announcing the revamp of Jazz. It would turn into a cluster.”
Ryan racked his brain. The last thing he wanted was to jump the gun and make a wrong decision. “I need more time to weigh pros and cons. I need to fly back to my office before you come to the Bay Area office. Give me a week.”
“We don’t have a week. The breach came from inside Sports Now. I bet it was Johnson, that prick. You have two days.”
“Come on, Phil. You want to lose all moral here? These people are a tightknit group. Give me five days.”
“Three. Hang on, got another call.”
“Fine.” Ryan clenched his teeth. He crouched down, stretching his aching calves. Son of a . . . This was all too soon. He wasn’t sure he wanted this. Well, hell, who doesn’t want to run an entire magazine? It was a huge opportunity.
But not like this. This sort of burn in the industry follows a man. He’d carry a stigma. And he’d worked so hard to ensure he was a respected member of the journalism community.
He had drawn up notes on Up Front’s team in the event of an “unlikely” merge. But now that it was happening, Ryan didn’t know what to think. These notes were entirely for him so he could keep their strengths and weaknesses in mind as he worked through the training. Because that was why he was here.
All the notes lined his bedspread. He picked up Sophie’s, which had her name and nothing more than a large question mark. He turned the page over and thought they didn’t deserve her. He continued his notes and wrote three simple words. Too much passion.
“You there, Pike?”
“I’m here,” Ryan said flatly.
“It’s a good thing. This merge. Remember that.”
“Sure, boss. I’ll be ready,” he lied. Ryan disconnected the call without saying goodbye. He chucked the phone across the room, watching it skid along the synthetic fiber carpet and slam against the wall.
Adrenaline pulsed through every fiber in his body. He needed to burn off some steam before he imploded. Shoving the chair out of his way, he grabbed his running shoes and slipped on a different pair of shorts. He checked the time. He had about an hour before he wanted to leave the ship. He needed to clear his mind to make room for some hard and fast decisions. His breathing evened as he formulated a plan. It was obvious what he had to do. What better place to do that than here and now?
He would regain Sophie’s trust. Today. He had to explain himself before the merge leaked. Because if he didn’t, he’d kill any chance he had with her. Hurting her was not an option. If he let this play out without giving her a heads up, he’d for damn sure hurt her.
He grabbed his phone and scrolled through the employee roster. He typed Donovan’s number.
Donovan answered on the first ring.
“Donovan, it’s Ryan. I need a favor. Call it a professional courtesy.”
Chapter 24
An hour after the training, Sophie and Amy hovered over Sophie’s cell phone in the ship’s main atrium Googling the crap out of rats. The service in her cabin was terrible so they brought the conversation here.
Sophie wanted off this ship. Rats in the café was the ten-thousand-pound straw that broke the camel’s back. As soon as she got the rats under control, she would find a way to leave. Meanwhile Google was all she had.
To make it worse, Donovan was acting like a spaz. He kept wringing his hands like a father about to marry off his only daughter to the crown prince.
His panic put Sophie on edge. “Donovan,” she spat. “Man up. It’s just rats. And from how Charlie described them, they sound domesticated.” She knew Donovan could handle anything except spiders and rats. So his response shouldn’t have surprised her, yet he stuck around torturing himself. Torturing her.
“Bleck. So gross.”
“Either leave or stop pacing,” Sophie said over her shoulder. “I have this under control.” God bless Google.
Donovan pishawed. “Don’t be silly. I mean rats. It’s rats.” He wrung his hands again. “We have to save the girls.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. Men. Even gay men. It was a wonder they ever learned to make fire without a woman at the helm. Of course, Donovan could easily make a love seat and ottoman out of a rock and fig leaves so when the women figured out fire, he’d have a place to roast marshmallows. “Okay, Charlie, you still there?”
“I’m here and I have the peanut butter.”
“Okay, good. Place a heaping spoonful inside the trap.”
“Done.”
Donovan squirmed. “Don’t get too close, Charlie. They carry rabies.”
“Donovan,” Sophie chided. “Simmer. She’s fine.”
“I’m just cautioning her. They’re intelligent creatures that scamper. Charlie, do you have a blow torch?”
“Okay, enough with you.” Sophie pushed his head away from the phone.
Amy scrolled through the instructions on her phone and showed Sophie the next step.
Sophie continued to read. “Now turn off the lights and leave the room. Our homemade trap should work. How many did you see?”
“I can’t be sure. Maybe two or three. They scurried when I flipped on the lights earlier.”
“See, they scamper,” Donovan interjected.
Sophie slid him the side-eye.
Amy took Donovan by the arm and led him to a couch across from them. “Chill. In fact, why don’t you take off? Go find a bar.”
“I can’t,” Donovan said.
“Why not?” Amy said.
“Because I’m supposed to wait here.”
Sophie looked up from her phone. “Wait for what? Are you meeting someone? Did you meet a guy?”
“No,” Donovan said, crossing one leg over the other. “You didn’t hear it from me, but I’m supposed to babysit you until your prince arrives.”
Sophie stiffened. Wait? What? “Charlie.” She returned her attention to the phone. “You okay now?”
“Yes, I have four plastic tubs with peanut butter under each one. They will collapse when the rats go for the bait.”
“I still say call an exterminator,” Donovan said.
“Exterminators lead to paperwork and health departments, which lead to expenses we don’t have. Plus, we’ve never had rats. Never had more than the occasional ant. If this doesn’t work, we’ll call someone, okay?”
Donovan rolled his eyes.
“Good.” Sophie subconsciously pat herself on the back. “Charlie, after you catch them, don’t touch them. I have an old friend coming to dispose of them. His name is Bob Jamison.”
“Aw,” Charlie squeaked. “Don’t kill them. They don’t seem mean.”
“Well, they don’t get to stay. I’ll be sure to tell Bob to take them to a rat sanctuary where they will get proper care and housing.”
“Really?”
“No. Now turn off the lights and wait outside until he gets there.”
“Whatever. I gotta run. Deidra’s eating all the peanut butter.”
Sophie dropped her phone in her lap and glared at Donovan. “What’s this prince business?”
Donovan looked at her and feigned zipping his lips closed.
“Talk.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Your lips are about to bleed if you don’t talk,” Amy threatened.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Hair. I had a great conversation with my man Ryan this morning, and you will wait for him because I still believe in the magic of true love.”
Sophie threw her head back. One crisis at a time. She didn’t have it in her to deal with rats and Ryan. The parallel of the two shocked her. Both were cute, intelligent species. But both had terrible timing—and showed up in the wrong place at the wrong time. She could dispose of the rats with peanut butter, but Ryan was another story. As much as she longed for him to make her heart flutter, she couldn’t do this to herself. It logically didn’t make sense.
“Ooh, Ryan.” Amy’s eyes lit. “Okay, I’m switching to team Donovan. Sorry, Soph. We’ll strong arm you to keep you here.”
Sophie narrowed her eyes at Amy before shooting darts at Donovan. “What do you mean I will wait for him?”
“You’re not getting anything else from me. You didn’t listen to me about Asher, so you owe me this. Just wait here.”
Sophie’s insides stood at attention. How very chauvinistic of him. Ryan had sent Donovan to wait with her? Why? So she didn’t escape? How far could she get? She was on a ship!
As if rats and Ryan didn’t produce enough turmoil for the morning, Terri and Lori walked up. Terri was dressed in something Sophie was certain would qualify as a nighty, and Lori was dressed in half that.
“Good morning, my fabulous coworkers. How is everyone?” Lori chirped.
Amy shot Sophie a careful look. Sophie rolled her eyes, but since the girls addressed her specifically, she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a cold shoulder. “We’re good. And you?”
Terri fluttered her lashes. “Ah-mazing.”
Sophie turned her back to them. “That’s nice. Have a nice day.”
“Don’t you want to know about our night?”
“Not really,” Amy said. “We’re busy working. You should try it,” she said on a smirk.
Donovan, forever the gentleman, chimed in. “What can we do for you ladies?”
Lori was the first to throw fuel on
the fire. “I just wanted to ask if Sophie and Ryan were a thing.”
Sophie tsked and then looked up. She wanted to give Lori the stink-eye, but settled on a snarl. “No. That’s in the past, not that it’s any of your business.”
“No, it’s not,” Terri added, “but we wanted to check because we are all on the same feminist team, even you, Donovan.”
“Um, thanks?” he said with a raised brow.
“We don’t want to go after a man spoken for. We’re not Trixie,” she said, kicking some salt on an old wound. “But if you’re saying there’s nothing between you . . . well then . . .” Terri slid Lori a vexatious glare.
Heat swelled in Sophie’s chest. She wanted to set a few rabid rats loose in someone’s cabin right about now. Instead, she forced a smile. After what Asher had said about last night, what if his lying mouth had a hint of truth attached? It wouldn’t be the first time Ryan couldn’t wait for her during a crises and decided to look elsewhere. “Whatever. We’re not together. He’s leaving in a few days anyway, so why bother.”
“That’s exactly why we bother,” Lori exclaimed.
Donovan stood. “Hush, child,” he said to Sophie. “As for you two. Trust me when I say Ryan is not a good match for you. He’s looking for a different sort of relationship.”
Terri giggled. “Not after last night.”
Sophie shot the girls a death by eye gouging glare while a sinking feeling pooled in the pit of her stomach. Why did it bother her so much? It didn’t matter what Ryan did. She’d pushed him away last night. He had every right to do as he pleased. But still, a part of her wanted him to do as he pleased with her. Not a couple floozies from Parties R Us.
The masochist in Sophie wanted—or rather needed—to know. “What exactly does that mean?”