Jennifer Crusie Bundle (83 page)

Allie shook her head, trying to warn him off. Her job was safe but his might be in jeopardy. “I'm the producer. I should have checked. It was my fault…”

“No, it wasn't…”

“When you two are finished,” Bill said, “I'd like to say a few words.”

They both shut up.

“We logged a lot of calls Friday night.” He stood up and began to pace. Allie found herself moving her head back and forth with him. “Even more calls over the weekend. A lot more than we ever have before. And now there's this mess with the hooker.” He wheeled around suddenly and put his hands on the desk, looming over them. “
The press
would like to talk to you both.”

Charlie shifted in his seat. “About the hooker—”

“I know about the hooker,” Bill said. “Somebody's out to get you, son, but it's hard to tell who since you've pissed off so many people.” He glared at Charlie. “Had to make waves, didn't you?”

“I don't think that was what I had in mind,” Charlie began and Bill cut him off.

“You don't think at all, son. That's why we're in this mess. Just look at you on Friday. Playing songs about raping women.” He snorted. “Making fun of Barry Manilow.”

Charlie looked at Allie, and she closed her eyes in defeat. Bill was on her side. She must be wrong.

“And you,” Bill said to her. “You and your women's movements. I've told you to keep that stuff off the air. The only good thing this fool said Friday night was when he made fun of you for that. And even that was dirty.” He glared at Charlie again.

“Oh, hell, Bill.” Charlie leaned back in his chair. “Fire us and get it over with.”

Allie felt her heart rise in her throat but then Bill saved her.

“I'm not gonna fire you.” He slapped the desk. “I need you. And besides, you're starting to make me money. Albert raised the ad rate on your show and it's still sold out. Damn it.”

“You can fire me,” Allie offered, not too worried he'd take her up on it. “Nobody knows I exist.”

“The hell they don't.” Bill glared at her, too. “You're famous now. I told you,
the press
wants to talk to you. Some fool woman wants to do a
human-interest
story on you two.”

“Well, we don't want to talk to her.” Allie stood up. “I'm not talking to anybody ever again.”

“Sit
down,
” Bill said and she sat down. “You're gonna have to go on again tonight.”

“No,” Allie and Charlie said together.

“And you're gonna talk nice to each other, and answer questions nice for the rest of the week, and then when everybody's really bored, you, Charlie, are gonna go back to being a solo DJ and you, Alice, are gonna go back to being a producer, and that's gonna be the end of it. Understand? Find something boring to talk about that you both agree on and talk about it for a week. There must be something that you both agree on.”

Sex,
Allie thought, but she kept her mouth shut. She looked over at Charlie who was fighting back a grin. He was turning into one hellacious one-night stand.

“Either of you got anything else to say?”

“No, sir,” Allie said, and then she and Charlie escaped into the hall before he could start again. “I think Bill has slipped around the bend this time,” she said when they were out of earshot.

“Well, he owns the bend,” Charlie said. “Let's make this thing short and sweet. Think of something we talk about.”

“The show,” Allie said. “Chinese food. Sex.”

“I don't think any of those are going to make a program,” Charlie said. “What else do we talk about?”

Allie stopped, struck by the thought. “That's pretty much it. We don't talk much.” She looked at him, appalled. “We don't really talk at all.”

Charlie ignored her. “Maybe we can talk about music. You don't know anything about music, but I could talk about it, and you could say, ‘Gee, Charlie, you're wonderful.' I like it.” He looked at her without seeing her. “But this time, I'm double-checking the tapes. We're going to have music or I'm going to know why.”

Allie left him in the tape library, carefully checking his tapes for the night. He might not want to be a star, but Charlie sure didn't want dead air, either. Whether he realized it or not, Charlie was getting sucked into radio.

And whether she'd realized it before or not, she was getting sucked into Charlie. She should have been delighted that all they talked about was the show and sex. That's what she wanted. A nice, uncomplicated, unemotional affair. Except that wasn't enough anymore. She'd gotten exactly what she'd asked for, and it wasn't enough, and she wasn't going to be able to get more because he didn't want more: he was leaving in November.

There it was, the thought she'd been ignoring all week. November. He was leaving in November. And no matter how hopeful she was, she knew how stubborn he was. Come November, unless she did something amazing, she was going to be left with an empty broadcast booth and an empty bed.

She wasn't sure she didn't have an empty bed already. If all they were was great sex, it was definitely an empty bed.

She tried to push the whole thing from her mind and went to get coffee. Her thoughts were depressing, and they got worse when Mark followed her into the break room.

“Allie!” The delight in his voice was mirrored on his face. He must want something, she told herself. He was never that happy to see anybody unless they could do something for him.

She steeled herself for the come-on. “What do you want?”

Mark spread his hands out, the picture of innocence. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Allie frowned at him. “Why?”

Mark put his hand on her arm. “I just miss you so much.”

“Why? Did Lisa leave you?” She turned away from him and went over to the coffee urn, trying not to think about Charlie leaving her.

Mark followed her. “Allie, it's not the same. She's not you.”

Allie laughed shortly. “No, she's ten years younger and twenty pounds lighter. And it's only taken you two months to notice.” Allie turned back to him, her coffee in hand. “I talked to her Saturday at the remote. She's looking pretty frazzled, Mark. Cut her a break. She's still learning the job. Charlie's in the same spot.” She stopped, realizing that while Charlie might be in the same spot, he was doing brilliantly. Not a good comparison for Lisa.

Mark moved closer. “Forget about Charlie. Let's go have dinner somewhere and talk.”

Allie ducked around him and headed for the door. “We don't have anything to talk about.”

Mark caught her arm, and she turned to see him with a soulful look on his face. “Let's have dinner. A long dinner.”

Allie pulled her hand away, trying to compute what she'd just heard. “What?”

“I think we should see more of each other. A lot more, if you know what I mean.” Mark moved closer, backing her against the wall. “We were good together, Allie.”

Allie looked at him in amazement. “Are you kidding? We were lousy together. Are you propositioning me? I can't believe it.” She shook her head. “You're propositioning me. No.” She turned and opened the door and came face-to-face with Charlie.

“I was looking for you,” he said to her. He glared at Mark. “What are you doing flirting with other disc jockeys?”

Mark smiled smoothly. “Allie and I go back a long way.”

“As long as you stay back, I don't care.” Charlie held the door for Allie. “If you're finished here, we need to talk about this damn program.”

“Fine,” Allie said, annoyed with them both. Mark had dumped her and Charlie was leaving in November, but in the meantime they both thought they owned a part of her. And she knew which parts, too. Mark wanted her brain to save his show, and Charlie wanted her butt.

Well, the hell with both of them.

“What difference does the program make?” she said to Charlie, and he looked so stunned she felt vindicated. “You want to be a flop, remember?”

She took off down the hall and heard him follow her. “Are you all right?” he called after her. “This isn't like you.”

“You're making me mad,” she said. “You and Mark, both.”

He followed her into her office. “Don't put me in the same sentence with Mark. What did I do?”

“All he thinks about is what I can do for him in radio,” Allie said, slamming her coffee cup down on her desk and sloshing coffee on her papers. “And all you care about is what I can do for you in bed. The hell with both of you. I don't need you.” She sat down and crossed her arms.

Charlie sat down across from her and watched her warily. “Uh, I don't know what brought this on, but I want you for more than sex. We're friends. You know that. Is Mark trying to get you back for his show?”

“I have friends,” Allie told him. “Joe, and Harry, and Karen, and a lot more. They don't jump my body every chance they get.”

Charlie's eyebrows rose. “Sorry. I'll stop.”

“No, you won't,” Allie said gloomily. “That's how you communicate. Men. The weaker sex. If you were a woman, you'd have the guts to talk to me, but since you're a guy you just want sex.”

“Well, then say no,” Charlie said, the exasperation plain in his voice. “You always seem pretty enthusiastic when I suggest it.”

“I am enthusiastic,” Allie said. “I love going to bed with you. But that's all we do.”

“So what do you want?”

“I want to talk sometimes.” She hated sounding wimpy, but there it was. “You know, really talk.”

“Good.” Charlie put a stack of disks on her desk. “We'll talk tonight on the show. You'll love it. Conversation and your career, a two-for-one deal.”

Allie gazed at him for a moment, looking at the monster she'd created. She wanted to work on their relationship, he wanted to work on her career. Just what she needed in her already bleak life: irony. “Great,” she said. “Tell me all about it.”

F
OUR HOURS LATER
, Charlie leaned into the mike and said, “Well, here we are again, all phones working. And for those of you who were wondering, the guy being hugged by the blonde on the front page of the paper is not me. That's my roommate, Joe, and the reason he looks so surprised is that he's gay. Yes, folks, somebody's up to something here in old Tuttle. I don't mind, but Joe would appreciate it if whoever it is would quit sending hookers over to our apartment with cameras. They're ruining his reputation.”

“Oh, he'll love that,” Allie said softly as she petted Sam, careful not to speak into the mike.

“And now, back by popular request, is my producer, the poster girl for irrationality, Alice McGuffey.”

“Hey,” Allie said. “Let's try this introduction again.”

Charlie shook his head. “You
are
the person who stood in your office today and announced to me that men were the weaker sex, right?”

Allie snorted. “That's not irrational. That's the truth.”

Charlie laughed. “I can beat you at arm wrestling anytime, honey.”

Allie's voice dripped with sarcasm. “Life is not about arm wrestling.”

“What's life got to do with this?”

“What I said in the office was that women are stronger because they talk to each other, and men are weaker and concentrate on sex and ignore other more important things. Like establishing warm human relationships.”

Charlie groaned. “Why do women always bring every discussion back to relationships?”

“Because relationships are the basis for life, you dweeb.”

Charlie sounded wary. “Tell me you're not talking about marriage.”

“I'm not talking about marriage,” Allie said reasonably. “I'm talking about establishing warm connections with other people. Men don't do it.”

“Hey. I have a warm connection with another person.” Charlie wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“That's sex.” Allie wiggled her eyebrows back and stuck out her tongue. “That's what men use as a substitute for relationships. But it's not the real thing.”

“It feels real.” Charlie scowled at her.

“Yeah, but can you keep the relationship going without it?”

Charlie looked at her, surprised. “My relationship with this woman is more than sex and she knows it.”

“That's not the point.” Allie leaned forward. “The point is that women can survive without all the physical stuff that men need because they know what's important is the human relationship. So they talk to each other. They don't get all the warmth in their lives from sex.”

“Sex isn't important to you?” Charlie asked, disbelief heavy in his voice.