Just This Night (17 page)

BETH

two weeks later

O
h man, what a day,” I cried, walking into my new apartment and collapsing onto the threadbare flowered couch in front of the TV. “Thank goodness I don't have to work tomorrow. I seriously am going to sit on this couch and not move for the next thirty-six hours. Except to eat of course. I am going to sit on the couch and not move and eat all the things. And maybe drink some of them, too.”

“Works for me,” my new roommate replied, poking her head out from behind the kitchen wall, her mop of copper curls falling around her face. “As long as you don't mind the marathon binge session of eighties teen dramas I've got loaded up in the DVR.”

“Mind? I would insist on nothing less,” I declared, grinning back at her. “I swear Piper Strong, sometimes I think you and I are a match made in John Hughes heaven.”

“I'd bet my hands on it,” she quipped, quoting her favorite heroine of all time—the lovesick, amazing Watts from
Some
Kind of Wonderful
—who, by the way we both agreed, could do way better than the mopey Eric Stolz.

I laughed, pulling up my knees and hugging them to my chest, feeling warm and comfortable in my new abode. Sure, it wasn't as glamorous as my former apartment on the beach, but it was clean and cozy and—bonus—only ten minutes from the station. In other words—it was perfect.

And so was my new roommate. I still couldn't believe that I'd scored on that end, too, especially on such short notice. In fact, I'd been almost ready to give up on finding a roommate all together—and just signing up for some crappy studio I couldn't really afford—when I came across her ad tacked up on the bulletin board in the News 9 cafeteria.

Piper had crazy red curly hair and a face full of freckles. I had nicknamed her Merida after the feisty heroine of Disney's
Brave
. In addition to looking like her, she could also be just as fierce. And while some people might complain of her being too aggressive when it came to going after what she wanted—to me her fiery passion only added to her charm.

Piper was new to News 9 and currently worked as a production assistant in the newsroom—an entry-level position that was little more than that of a glorified runner. But she had no intention of staying there long term. She had big dreams, big plans, big goals. And she was going to reach each and every one them, it seemed, by sheer force of will. Well, that and putting in the long hours needed to impress the bosses.

Which meant I no longer had to worry about being woken up at three
A.M.
by my roommate stumbling home drunk from a bar or discovering a strange man in my shower when I came home at noon. When Piper wasn't working at the station, she had a second nighttime job she worked at down near the border, assisting in a children's group home. She had no time for bars, for clubs, for men.

And on rare instances, when she actually was at home? You could usually find her plopped down in front of the TV, trying to recover from her workaholicism hangover before she started up all over again with her next shift.

For me, it was pretty much the perfect setup. And I was pretty sure she thought the same, which made it even better.

Piper stepped in front of me now. She held up two bottles of wine. “Red or white?” she asked.

I groaned. “As long as it's got fermented grapes I don't much care.”

“Uh-oh.” My roommate gave me a sympathetic look. “What'd she do this time?”

I sighed. “Where to even begin?”

While the new roommate situation was a dream come true, everything else in life was pretty much a total mess. Mostly thanks to Stephanie, who clearly had not gotten the statute of limitations on revenge memo. In fact, if anything, her sabotages had only been escalating over the past two weeks and it was really starting to take a toll.

Interviews I'd scheduled were suddenly cancelled; shoot locations would change without notice, forcing me to be late. Video footage I'd uploaded onto the servers would be renamed and become impossible to locate.

All little annoyances, impossible to prove were intentionally done, had I wanted to turn her in. But I knew the truth. She was always lurking, waiting for me to fall on my face, so she could step in and take back her supposedly rightful place on the TV news throne.

And so, each day, I'd come to work on edge, never knowing what would be thrown my way. As if it wasn't tough enough to deal with the pressure of being a dayside reporter for a major news outlet in and of itself. Without the fear that something would go so wrong that Richard would give up on me altogether. After all, I still technically had almost two weeks left to prove I deserved the position. And Stephanie seemed determined to try to make every single day harder than the one before it.

At least I had Mac by my side. Since the night at his house when we'd agreed to be friends, he'd been a loyal coworker and companion. In fact, I was pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to get through any of this without having him in my corner. When footage was erased, he'd run out and shoot
more. When interviews got cancelled, he'd help me line up alternate experts. Together, we'd actually become quite the force to be reckoned with. An awesome team.

If only I could have been satisfied by that.

If only I could think of him as just a friend.

But he had made himself clear. And I wanted to respect what he felt he needed to do. For his sake, and his daughter's.

I realized Piper was still waiting for an answer. I waved her off. “It doesn't matter,” I told her. “And I don't want to dwell on it anyway. Just load up a little Ferris Bueller and all will be well in the world.”

Or at the very least I could pretend that it was.

*   *   *

T
he weekend passed too quickly and Monday, as always, came too soon. Piper and I drove to the station together and then parted ways—her heading over to the printers, where she would organize the noon show's scripts, while I headed to the assignment desk to see what story they had for me that day.

It had been a pretty chill weekend. Piper had gotten called into work on Saturday, interrupting our movie binge, and so I'd headed out to do a little more shopping to replace some of the items Stephanie had destroyed. When Piper had come home that night we'd poured vodka Red Bulls and played video games on the PS4. On Sunday I even made it to the beach, signing up for a surf lesson all by myself led by a cute instructor.

And why not? I'd wasted years on Ryan and I wasn't about to waste any more, waiting around for a dream guy that might never come. Ryan was gone. Mac was unavailable. And I was going to start living for myself, if it killed me. (Which to be honest, that surf lesson almost did!)

It had been a good weekend. But the weekend was over now. Now it was back to reality. Back to the unfriendly faces and potential sabotage of real-life work. As I walked through the newsroom, I could feel the stares at my back from Stephanie's minions. And a feeling of dread sank to my stomach. Sometimes I wondered why I kept at it. Why I kept showing
up to work, prolonging the torture. There were other jobs out there, some I was even qualified to do. Why did I feel the need to keep pushing on here where I was clearly unwelcome?

Ana, the daytime assignment manager, greeted me as I approached the desk. Ana had worked at News 9 for five years now and had probably looked, for every single one of them, as if she'd walked straight off a model's runway to get to work. But I'd learned long ago you couldn't let her good looks fool you—the Colombia-born Latina was much more than a pretty face. She was also tough as nails—pretty much a requirement for her high-pressure position. Every day she would be forced to coordinate grumpy photographers, spoiled reporters, and power-tripping producers to make sure the right stories were well-covered, and the station didn't get scooped by a competitor. It was a thankless job, but Ana always handled it with grace and pizzazz.

She also always, without fail, greeted me with a smile, which was more than I could say for most of my other coworkers. While I had never been the most popular or known face in the newsroom, thanks to Stephanie, these days I felt practically invisible.

“Why the sad face, Lizzie Lou Who?” Ana asked, catching my eye. She was the only one I allowed to call me Liz. Or Lizzie, as the case might be. “You don't look like a girl who's living the dream.”

I snorted. When I had first arrived at News 9 two years ago, Ana had been the one to give me the welcome tour of the station. At the time I had been so excited, I'd danced around the entire place, gushing that this was my dream come true. Which, at the time, had made her laugh very hard. And she'd never let me forget it since.

“No? Well, do I look like a girl who's come down with a bad case of newsroom Ebola?” I asked wryly. “'Cause that's what it feels like, walking around this place these days.” I looked out over the newsroom floor, watching everyone avert their faces as my gaze swept over them.

Ana laughed. “Welcome to the yard, meat.”

I sighed. “You know, it's not like I asked for any of this.”

“You think they care about that? They just know you are where they ain't. And in their minds, that ain't fair.”

“Yeah, well, they should be careful what they wish for.”

“Wait, are you telling me it's not all caviar and champagne at the top?” Ana swooned in mock-horror and I laughed.

“Actually it is,” I reassured her. “In fact, I was just about to pop a magnum of Cristal in the executive bathroom. You want in?”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Ana fist-bumped me. Then she gave me a sympathetic smile. “Seriously though, don't let them get to you. Haters gonna hate, as my girl Taylor Swift says. You just gotta ignore all the noise and do the best job you can. Eventually they'll get bored and move on to the next upstart.”

“If they don't kill me first.”

“Ooh that reminds me!” Ana rummaged through the assignment desk, then handed me a letter. “This just came this morning.”

I scanned the letter, which appeared to be from the mayor of Lemon Grove. He was writing to thank News 9 for uncovering the gas leak scandal I'd learned about on my first day of the new job. Evidently three city officials had been fired as a result of the exposé and new protocols were now in place to prevent it from happening again. In his letter, the mayor praised the investigation and claimed lives would be saved because of it.

Because of me.

Suddenly I felt much better.
This
was why I was here. Why I couldn't let them win. Sure it was hard. But letters like this made it all worthwhile.

“Congrats, girl,” Ana said with a knowing smile. “You did good.”

She leaned over and gave me a warm hug. I hugged her back, feeling happier than I had in a while.

Sorry, Stephanie. That's one thing you can't take away from me.

“Am I interrupting?”

I pulled away from the hug at the sound of the familiar
voice, my heart skipping a beat as my eyes fell upon Mac, leaning on the assignment desk, an amused look on his face. He was looking particularly hot this morning in his tight black T-shirt and dark rinse blue jeans. Which was so unfair. Not for the first time I wished there was some kind of required photographer uniform. Preferably shapeless coveralls or something of that ilk.

It was kind of pathetic, really. I mean, we'd been working together for a couple weeks now and I still couldn't manage to pry my mind out of the gutter every time I looked at him. I'd see his hands—and I'd think about them running all over my body, touching me in my most intimate places. I'd see his lips—and think about them pressing against mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth and sending shivers to my toes. And when I'd drop my gaze, I'd see something else, between his legs. And my mind would pretty much short-circuit.

It was ridiculous. Pitiful. Disgraceful. Especially since he seemed to have managed to friend-zone me without breaking a sweat. In fact, since that night at his house, I hadn't even caught him looking at me inappropriately once. Which meant he was either really good at hiding his attraction—or there was no attraction left to hide.

I wasn't sure which scenario I preferred.

“No, handsome, you're just in time,” Ana assured Mac with a wink. She pulled out his schedule sheet and scanned it. I waited, crossing my fingers, hoping for a semi-cool assignment, all the while trying to mentally prepare myself for a crappy one. After all, Stephanie's producer minions had a rare talent for cooking up the most inane, frivolous stories in all of SoCal and assigning them to me. If I was lucky, perhaps today I'd get to do an exclusive expose on the San Diego quilting festival. Or maybe a late breaking news piece on the growing popularity of doggie daycare?

Ana gave a low whistle. “Oh yeah, baby, you two hit the story jackpot today.”

I looked up, unable to quell the vain hope stirring within me. “Oh?”

“Water skiing squirrel event. Mission Beach. Starts at
noon.” Ana stifled a giggle, then shot me an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

My heart sank. For a moment I'd been fool enough to hope she'd been serious. That for once we really did have a cool story to cover. Something that mattered. Something that would get me noticed by the News 9 powers that be. To prove that I deserved this daytime slot.

I should have known better.

“Well, that's a
nutty
assignment if I ever heard one,” Mac declared with a grin. I shot him a dirty look. I knew he was probably just trying to lighten the mood, but I failed to see the humor. This was my career, after all, not some late night TV host monologue.

“Yeah,” Ana added, doubling-down. “I hear that squirrel is totally
off his tree
!”

The two of them fist-bumped and laughed. I stared at them, anger rising inside of me. “Do you think this is funny?” I burst out, before I could stop myself.