Tonic (26 page)

It was busy as ever, and I greeted everyone as I made my way through, finding Laney in the office at her computer.
 

She glanced up at me with an unreadable expression on her face as she sat back in her chair, watching me as I set my bag down on my desk and sat across from her.

“Morning,” I said, ignoring whatever she was doing.

“Morning. Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” I answered, not skipping a beat as I opened my laptop.
 

“Good. Because I have news that may keep you up tonight.”

I cut my eyes to her, then back to my computer as I pulled up my mail and pretended to read it. “Oh?”

She reached across our desks and pushed my laptop closed. “It’s about Hal and Liz.”

I sat back in her chair, trying not to fume, my face smooth. “What about them? Last time Hal left here he didn’t seem interested in coming back.”

Her lips were thin, and she looked older for that moment, worry creasing her face. “They got their own show.”

“What?” I shot louder than I meant to.

She nodded. “Another network. Apparently Hal pitched the idea to a producer, and it’s happening. And? It’s supposed to happen before we air.”

“Fuck,” I breathed, only thinking of Joel, of what he’d say. Of what he’d do.

“So, a couple of things need to happen. First, we need to ramp up production. So you and I need to sit down today and work out the schedule, figure out how we can speed things up.”

I nodded, feeling numb.

“Second, we need to stage telling Joel.”

I kept myself still, though my pulse ticked up a notch, and the traitorous flush climbed a hot path up my neck. “What do you mean?” I asked, knowing very well what she meant, hoping it wasn’t true all the while.

“What I mean is that you can’t tell him. Not until we have the cameras rolling and on him. Today is packed with filming we’ve had scheduled for weeks, and we can’t rearrange it for this.”

“We can do whatever the fuck we want.
I
can do whatever the fuck I want — I’m the show runner, for God’s sake.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So you’re going to reschedule three different tattoos with three different artists today? You’ve got a grand plan?”

“There’s a way. There’s always a way.”

“Not this time. I’ve already tried. This is it — we don’t have time to fuck around with the schedule when we’re trying to speed everything up. The simplest, most efficient and cost-effective thing we can do is not tell Joel until tomorrow.”

My jaw clenched.

“What’s the big deal? I mean, telling him about Hal isn’t going to make him go ballistic, but he’s going to be pissed, and I want real emotion. He can’t fake that. So why is that a problem?” she asked, baiting me.

“I just think it’s really shitty not to tell him.”

She made a face. “Who cares? It’s what we have to do to keep everything on track.”

“You’re saying we don’t have twenty minutes to film telling him between all of this?”

“No,” she volleyed, “because it’s not twenty minutes. It’s going to be a full day of not only following Joel around, but of interviewing the rest of the cast about it. So do your job.”

She was right. I knew she was right. But the thought of keeping this from Joel made my stomach turn, sending my breakfast up my esophagus. I swallowed hard. Maybe I could tell him, tell him to act surprised. But Laney would know. Joel was no actor. That was part of what made him so appealing. He was real, as real as they come.

“Annika,” she warned. “You cannot tell him until tomorrow.”

I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes.

“I’m going to ask you again, and you’re going to answer yes or no. Is this a problem?”

She kept talking when I didn’t answer.

“Because this is your job. This is exactly what I was afraid of and exactly why I told you not to get attached. But you did. You fucked him and instead of using him, you got attached.”

My nostrils flared. “Says who?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, my God. Says your body language. Reading people is my job, remember? So you made your choice, and now it’s time for you to face it. I’m sorry that you’re here, but this is
exactly
what I was trying to avoid. This is why I’ve been pushing you about him, because here you are, and it was all your choice. So, it’s time to face the music. Sack up, Belousov. Your job, or the guy? What’s it going to be?”

My job that I’d worked so hard to get or the guy who I found myself falling for? It was impossible. My plans had been dashed, and there were no exits, no paths out of the mess when I thought I had it on lock. And now … now I had to choose.

Laney wouldn’t forgive me for betraying the show, but Joel had given me permission to betray him from the beginning. He told me to do my job, and this was my job — to lie to him. He’d made the rules. And with that, the choice was made for me.

There was only one answer, and it settled in my chest like a block of ice, too cold to melt. “My job.”

Two words. I spoke those two words, and I knew he’d never forgive me for them. I didn’t know if I’d forgive myself. But I had no choice, just like I told him from the beginning. I’d worked too hard for too long to throw it away. I only hoped he’d understand, which was as likely as catching a falling star.

Annika

LANEY AND I SPENT THE morning going over the new, expedited calendar and the following day’s filming, which would start with telling Joel through a horrible game of telephone. I’d tell Shep, and Shep could tell him, and like a coward, I was glad I wouldn’t have to be the one to expose the truth I kept from him. I tried to work it out so I wasn’t even in the room when they filmed, hoping she would take my place, but she pulled rank. I had no choice. No options. I’d been backed into a corner.

I’d been a fool to think I could have walked away from this unscathed. A blind, proud fool.
 

I floated through the day in a haze, without a single moment to myself. Joel went about work as usual, though I felt his presence, felt him watching me. The air had changed between us, crackling with questions and fear, but there was nothing to be done. There was nothing I could do but sit and wait for the train wreck, knowing it would come without the ability to save anyone, not even myself.

There was no time to contemplate, every minute of the day a whirl, moving from one segment to the next without even enough time to wolf down the catered food. We were packing up at the end of the day, everyone exhausted, when Joel finally approached for the first time since we’d parted ways in front of Tonic that morning. It seemed like a million years and a million miles had passed.

No one was close by — I sat in my set chair, working on paperwork to finish logging the day, and he stood near me, his body language tentative.

“Busy today, huh?” he said, his voice low and rumbling, comforting. But I didn’t deserve his comfort.

“It was. How’d you do?”

He shrugged. “Fine. The usual.” He moved closer, laying a hand on the back of my chair to look over my shoulder at the clipboard, as if we were talking about work. “Come see me tonight.”

My heart burned in my chest. “I’m so tired, Joel. I was thinking about going home.”

He smiled. “We can sleep.”

I would have laughed if it didn’t hurt so bad. I managed a small smile. “I doubt that.”
Please, let it go. Please, leave it be. Please, take no for an answer.

He pointed at an arbitrary spot on the paper and leaned in, his lips near my ear. “We don’t have to talk. Just come to me tonight.”

It was too much. “I can’t. Not tonight.”

“Tell me why.” It was a demand, a quiet demand that scratched at my resolve.

“Joel, please,” I begged with a shaky breath.

He paused — I listened to him breathe for a moment before he finally spoke, his voice tight with understanding he couldn’t possibly possess. “Don’t do this, Annika. Whatever it is, don’t do it.”

Emotion rolled through me, taking me over, needing out of the immediate situation. I stood, leaving the clipboard in the chair as I reached for his hand, not caring who saw, swallowing tears as I dragged him out of the shop and up the stairs, through his door.

I slipped into his arms when the door was closed, his shirt fisted in my hands, my head tucked under his chin, and he held me, rocking me silently in the dark. I was thankful for the cloak of night, hiding my face that broke with my heart.
 

I could tell him right then. It would be so simple — I could tell him everything, throw it all away. Because after the argument with Laney, after everything, I would throw my career away if I told him. Laney would fire me, and she’d be right to do it. Maybe Joel didn’t really know what he signed up for, but I did.
 

The woman I’d been a few weeks ago was gone. He’d done what he set out to do — melted that façade I’d so carefully crafted when I was at work, the one that kept me separate, unaffected by the demands of my job. It was gone, and now … now I had to rebuild it, brick by brick.
 

The one thing I didn’t deserve — Joel’s comfort — was the only thing holding me together. I would betray him because that was what I had to do. I’d talk to him afterward, beg him to understand. But if he didn’t, if he couldn’t forgive me, then this was it. And of what I knew of Joel, he would never forgive me for lying to him, about anything. And as hard as I’d tried to fight it, I’d have to manipulate him after all.

This was the last time I’d be in his arms. This was the only chance I would have to say goodbye. And I wanted to say goodbye. I needed to.

“I need you,” I whispered. “I don’t want to talk. I just want you.”

His lips never spoke, but his hands told me everything. He would give me anything I wanted, if I were true, if I were real. But I wasn’t. I was a liar. Cruel. And I’d fallen in love with a man I couldn’t protect from myself.

He kissed me with all the fire in him, as if he could burn away my pain. He undressed me with care, with strong, tender hands, laying me down in the dark as tears slipped out of my eyes and into my ears. He didn’t know, he didn’t see, only did what I had asked. I needed him, and he gave himself to me.

I memorized every moment, every touch. His body against mine. The caress of his hand on the curve of my breast. His lips as they tried to kiss away the bad. The heat of him as he slipped into me, filling my body, my heart, splitting it in two. And I said goodbye. I kissed him knowing it was the end, and when he felt it, when he knew, he grew frantic.
 

His lips crushed mine, telling me not to go. He slammed into me, claiming me for his. And I opened myself to him, giving him all of me. Because I’d walk away from all of this his. I had no choice in the matter.

When our bodies were spent, he held my face, fingers finding the tears, and I looked into his eyes, the one thing I could see as they reflected the only light in the room.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice heavy with tears.

“Don’t,” he begged.

I turned my face, pressing a trembling kiss into his palm.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
The words spun through my mind like starlings. I shifted to try to leave, but I was pinned by his body, and he didn’t budge.
 

“Annika,” the word broke in his throat, broke in my heart, and when I moved again, he let me go.

I gathered my clothes, trying not to sniffle as I dressed. And when I turned to where he lay on the bed, I took a heavy, shuddering breath and said the only thing I could.

“No matter what happens, this was real.”

And then I turned and hurried out of his apartment, leaving my heart with him where it belonged.

Joel

I DIDN’T SLEEP.

THE SECOND she walked away, I pulled on pants and followed, but she was gone, climbing into her car as I bolted through the building door. I’d called. I’d texted. And I’d gotten nothing but silence in return.

By the time I walked into the shop the next morning, I was crawling out of my skin. Dark shadows ringed bloodshot eyes, my jaw aching from the pressure of squeezing it as I stared at my ceiling all night, wondering what was happening.

Whatever happens, this was real.

The words haunted me, followed me through the night and into the day. I knew from the way she said goodbye to me with every kiss that it was over. I just didn’t know why, and I hoped to God it didn’t have to do with the show, with the lie I’d given her. But it felt inevitable, like an approaching storm, and I stood out in the wind, waiting for it, exposed.

Shep showed up just after me, his face falling when he saw me sitting behind the counter.

“What’s the matter?” he asked when he was close enough not to be overheard. Because everyone was there, milling around their stations, crew all over the place.

“Have you heard any gossip about the show? Annika? Anything?”

His brow dropped. “No. Why?”

I scrubbed a hand across my face, feeling old, used. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Shep opened his mouth to ask a question just as the door chimed and she walked in.

She didn’t seem to have fared much better than me, though the half-moons of shadow under her eyes were lighter than mine, covered up with makeup, her dark lashes making her eyes shine like the cobalt in the center of a flame, where the fire burned the hottest. Just seeing her sucked all the air out of my lungs.

Annika kept moving, her eyes on mine before she broke the contact with the cut of her eyes toward my brother.
 

“Shep, can I have a word?” she asked as if I wasn’t there.

His eyes were narrowed as he looked from her, back to me, back to her. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Thank you,” she said, all business as she walked toward the office, and he followed, tense and unsure.

My heart hammered against my ribs until they ached, and I sat behind the counter with my numb hands on the surface and eyes on the door. Cameramen had set up, red lights on. They were already filming.

Something was happening.
 

I felt like a pawn, like a piece in a game, without will, without a choice. A puppet. A tool.