Jackpot! (25 page)

At 5:35 a.m., I had my official result of the ovulation test, which was that I, Jamie Jacobson, was in fact in baby-making mode. I was ovulating! According to the doctors who commented on the pamphlet, it was highly unusual for a woman to ovulate on “day 6,” but possible. My heart began to pound. This was it! My egg was ready to be fertilized! Cha-ching! And at the same time, the thought of tricking Drew into having a child was causing extreme guilt, and I don’t just mean the typical Jewish person’s guilt, I’m talking major, major shame and disgust in what my ethical standards had become, and what I was setting out to do. Still, eight million dollars was far outweighing any amount of reason. In fact, it was tipping the scales against morality and integrity as well.

I decided that in any event, I had to look spectacular for work today. I wanted to look my best when Drew saw me for the first time in a week. So, I wore a light pink silk dress with a matching jacket and gold sling-back sandals. I also flat ironed my hair much more than usual, I made sure my nails and toenails were done, and I took lots of extra time putting on my make-up. Just before I headed out, I sprayed two sprays of Chanel Allure on my wrists. I can honestly say, it was the first time I’d ever worn perfume to work.

I got to the station around 8:30 and saw that my boy-friend was already there. He was sitting in the equipment room training a new audio guy named Gerard. He looked so cute! Drew, that is, not Gerard.

Drew was wearing a white Polo and khakis, and I had this strong desire to run in there and squeeze the crap out of him. I couldn’t, though, because I didn’t want anyone to know about Drew and I yet. I’d never been a big fan of the whole inner office romance thing. In fact, I’d always thought it was a little cheesy to date someone in the office. But I was doing it, and was oh-so-happy about it.

As I spied on Drew, watching him teach Gerard, and at the same time crack jokes in an effort to make the guy feel at ease, I thought about his gift of always being able to find something to smile about, even in a serious situation. I thought back to an incident that happened at the station a couple years earlier. One of the reporters, Samantha Banks was being stalked by some weirdo, who would call and e-mail her dozens of times a day. Samantha tried to let the guy know in a nice way that she wasn’t interested, but he was obsessed and wouldn’t let it go. Finally, one day, he showed up at the station, and to this day no one can figure out how he got past security.

When Samantha got back from lunch, the stalker was waiting for her in her office. When she walked in, he closed the door behind her, locked it, pulled down the shades and began to attack her physically. Samantha tried to scream but he covered her mouth and began lifting up her skirt. The whole thing was so bizarre because this was happening in broad daylight with everyone going about their daily business, not knowing a rape was about to occur just a few feet away.

Luckily for Samantha, our news director, Larry, had just returned to the office, as well. Larry was a guy who frequently enjoyed a few cocktails during his lunch hour. He headed to Samantha’s office to talk to her about a piece she did on Vince Vaughn. Actually, rumor has it that Larry was planning on giving her an earful about how bad he thought the story was.

He knocked on the door and when he realized it was locked, he began pounding on it. Had it not been for Larry’s aggressive drunk behavior, God only knows what would have happened. Larry heard noises coming from Samantha’s office and began screaming her name while continuing to bang on the door. This apparently caused the attacker to become nervous and lose his concentration, and Samantha was able to let out a scream for help. Larry now knew for sure something was wrong. A few people had begun to gather around Samantha’s office door, not knowing what to do, until finally, Chuck, one of the editing guys, grabbed a fire extinguisher and started hitting the door until it broke open.

Drew had just walked by and realized what was going on, so when the psycho guy started to run out, he was able to grab him and hold him down. The whole experience was a nightmare for Samantha, and for everyone in a way, but what I remembered so clearly was Drew making jokes about the attacker to ease the tension and make all of us laugh.

After the cops took the stalker away, Drew went over to Samantha and said, “He really did seem like your type. Want me to call the police station and get his number?” Some people thought it was funny. Even Samantha laughed. At the time, I thought his joking around was annoying and inappropriate. Now, however, reflecting back, I saw it as a sweet gesture, and an effort to make things easier by comforting everyone.

As I continued to watch him and think about how many times I’d misjudged him, he looked up, saw me, and happily waved through the glass. My heart skipped a beat. I smiled and waved, and our eyes stayed locked for a few moments until I heard I was being paged and had to go back to my office.

I sat at my desk doing three things. First, I was talking on the phone. The woman who’d had me paged was Marcy Rosenberg, Public Relations director for The East Bank Club. Marcy and her team wanted me to appear in a commercial. I would be working out while speaking. My line was supposed to be something like, “It’s harder to win the lottery than it is to have a good body.” I thought it sounded stupid, and I really didn’t want to do it. Plus, I felt like being in the commercial and saying that line would make people think I was conceited and thought I had a good body. It was really making me uncomfortable, and what I really wanted to do was give Marcy my brother’s name and number. He was the actor, after all. My station manager was insistent, however, that I do the commercial.

The second thing I was doing was browsing through my e-mails to see who was rejecting my screenplay today. As always, it was frustrating and depressing, but the good news was I was almost finished with my new script (the truth-based one) and it was turning out outrageously funny. I actually couldn’t wait until it was done so I could start sending it out. I truly believed I could sell it.

The third thing I was doing was thinking about my cutie in the equipment room.

“Can I call you back, Marcy?”

“Sure,” she said, “But I really need to know when you’re available for the shoot.”

“I’ll let you know by tomorrow, okay? The thing is, I just got called into an emergency meeting.” I crossed my fingers, as if that would make the lie acceptable.

“No problem.”

“Thanks,” I said, “And just so you know, I’m really excited to be a part of your ad campaign.”

“We appreciate that.”

When I hung up, I grabbed my purse and headed toward the elevator, pretending to be on my way to the
Starbucks
, which was in the lobby of the building. I had to pass the equipment room on the way. The door was halfway open, and for some reason I sensed Drew was still in there and that he was by himself. I walked in. Sure enough, there he was, on his knees, cleaning the lens of a camera with a piece of cloth.

“Hi!” I exclaimed.

He looked up and smiled. “Look at you…” he flirted.

“What about me?”

“You’re hot,” he said, “And you’re wearing perfume. What’s the occasion?”

I grinned and said, “You.”

He stood up and slowly walked toward me. Watching him, I couldn’t move. Or talk. Or breathe, for that matter. I was frozen with fear, excitement and desire. Drew reached behind me, closed the door and locked it, and that’s when my heart started to pound furiously. He kissed me hard on the mouth, and I felt as if I might actually melt in his arms. I was truly lost in his embrace, and all I wanted to do was touch him. I lifted off his shirt. He already had his hands under my dress and was taking off my panty hose.

What we were about to do was so hot and so sexy, and would be a memory that would surely never leave me. I’d never been more attracted to someone in all my life. This was purely erotic and heart pounding. At the same time, though, it was so much more than just random sex in a semi-public place. This was Drew, and this meant something.
He
meant something. And he loved me. It had been a long week without him and I’d missed him terribly. So I guessed I was making up for lost time. In fact, I felt like, perhaps, I was making up for a whole lifetime of lost time, an entire life of never having this kind of closeness and comfort with anyone.

“Who the hell locked this damn door?” I heard next, along with pounding on the door.

Drew and I both burst out laughing, and in less than ten seconds, I was fully dressed again and trying to act normal while opening the door. “Oh, sorry, Larry,” I said, “I have no idea why this is locked.”

“Larry, buddy,” Drew called out, “Come in, dude, I’m just cleaning this lens for that promo we’re shooting this afternoon.” I had to hide my giggle when I looked at Drew and noticed sweat dripping down his forehead. He had practically jumped back into the position he was in prior to our little escapade.

Larry looked at the two of us for a second, trying to figure out what was going on. Then he shot us each a dirty look and grabbed a tri-pod. He motioned to the door on his way out. “This stays open!” he shouted. Then he stormed off.

With a giggle I asked, “I’m going to Starbucks. Interested in a latte?”

“I’m interested in a latte more than what just happened,” Drew joked.

“Bye,” I said with a smile.

“It was fun,” he said with a wink.

And as I waited in line at Starbucks with a stupid, silly grin on my face, I kept thinking about Drew, sitting there happily cleaning the camera lens with his shirt on inside out. I thought about what we’d just done, and how desperately I needed more.

Not long after returning to my desk I got another rejection e-mail. I couldn’t have cared less, though, because the next e-mail was the best e-mail. It read, “To be continued… tonight at your place?”

I giggled and hit reply. “Come over at 8:00.”

A few hours later it was time for the lottery. I walked into the studio, my mood the same as it had been all day: cheery, happy and giddy. I gave Drew a little smile and a wave, and he smiled at me, practically sending me into cardiac arrest. There he sat behind the camera, shooting me. It was so hard to focus and I felt like everyone in the room could see my heart bursting out of me.

When we went on air I tried to act professional, but as I pulled the balls out of their bins and announced the numbers, I knew I was being a bit flighty. But I was also peppy and enthusiastic, and for the first time, I wasn’t acting. My demeanor was genuine.

I pulled out the last ball and saw it was a seven. “Seven,” I exclaimed, “Lucky number seven!” I was so pumped up, I felt like I could fly. It was as if I’d been in a deep sleep for so long and I’d just woken up. And my alarm clock was the guy behind the camera, shooting me.

I was smiling so wide my cheeks were hurting. “There you have it,” I continued, “Four nine nine seven for the pick four, and six three eight for the pick three.” Ordinarily, I would have gone with one of my usual phony sign-offs like, “Thanks so much for watching WGB, the official station for the Illinois Lottery. Have a wonderful afternoon and remember, somebody’s got to win. Why shouldn’t it be you?” or “Thanks so much for watching WGB, the official station for the Illinois Lottery. Have a great day and keep taking chances.” Today, though, nothing was fake or phony. I wasn’t going through the motions anymore. Not with my job, and definitely not when it came to Drew.

“I don’t know about you, but I feel lucky lucky lucky today!” I exclaimed into the camera. Truly, I was speaking to the guy behind the camera, but no one knew that except for me (and the camera man, of course.) “I hope everyone gets lucky today,” I continued, knowing full well that my producer, Richard was probably cringing right about now, “and tonight!”

Drew’s face was behind the camera but I could tell he was laughing. I signed off with a giggle, “For WGB, I’m Jamie Jacobson.”

“We’re clear,” yelled Richard to the crew.

Drew’s face appeared from behind the camera, his wide grin melting me.

“What the hell, Jamie?” I heard Richard yell.

“What?” I asked him.

“Are you on drugs?”

“I think she’s drunk,” replied someone from the crew.

“Shut up,” Richard yelled back, not even knowing who said it.

“I’m just happy,” I said, looking right at Drew, “Is there something wrong with that?”

“We don’t need any drug addicts at the station,” grumbled Richard.

“Me too,” Drew mouthed to me.

God, he was dreamy.