One Thing I Know

by Kara Isaac

  “What?”

  Kelly shrugged. “It’s pretty common knowledge. No new Donna deal and Randolph’s going to start sharpening the knives, and cutting loose the authors who aren’t making enough money. And when authors go, editors follow.” She gave a short, sharp laugh. “No pressure.”

  “But surely you won’t be at risk? You’re one of the best.”

  Kelly laughed. “The only reason he knows I even exist is because of Donna. With him, no one’s safe unless they happen to have some pretty impressive connections. Which definitely isn’t me. Now Lindsey, who thinks Jane Austen is a woman Colin Firth dated once, her uncle’s a senator, so she has nothing to worry about.”

  Rachel shoveled a bite of salad into her mouth. Great, just great. Yet one more thing to feel guilty about.

  - 6 -

  The scent of gardenias wafted through the hotel window. Actually, Rachel had no idea what they were, but she’d read a travel review once that had gushed about Charleston in spring and gardenias, so either that’s what they were or she’d chosen to latch on to a writer just as botanically clueless as she was.

  “Good, you’re here.” Lacey marched into the hotel suite, not even bothering with the most cursory of greetings. “I need you to convince Donna schnoodles are out.” She smoothed an invisible wayward hair back into her perfect chignon.

  Rachel groaned. Donna was such a pushover. Every year, without fail, they had to intervene to stop her being wheedled into supporting some pointless cause that would have the rest of America die laughing if they heard about it. “What on earth is a schnoodle?”

  Lacey just managed to get the words past her incredulous expression. “A cross between a schnauzer and a poodle. Schnoodles against starvation. Some crazy woman is having a fundraiser to raise money for the starving puppies in Africa.”

  “Now, that’s not very kind,” Donna remonstrated from the doorway to her bedroom, but her smile gave her away. “And please, give me some credit. Even I’m not going to get suckered into signing up for that one.” She pottered into the room, her purple velour tracksuit in contrast with her professionally done hair and makeup.

  Donna lowered herself onto the red chaise lounge, sitting ramrod straight to avoid crushing her updo. “So I’ve been thinking about our little situation.”

  “Which one?” Rachel pulled a couple of dresses out of the garment bag she’d draped over the back of a chair. “Black or navy?”

  Donna wrinkled her nose. “Neither. Whatever happened to that nice floral one I gave you for Christmas?”

  Rachel smothered the sigh that threatened to escape. Every few months the same old debate would flare up. Donna persistently bought her gorgeous, colorful clothes that she would never wear. There was nothing she wanted less than to be memorable, for any reason.

  “Fine.” Donna threw her hands up. “In that case, I don’t care. Now back to our situation.”

  “What situation?” Rachel held both dresses up in front of her, then dropped her arms. Her aunt was right. It didn’t matter which out of two equally boring dresses she wore.

  “The book one. I’ve been thinking that maybe your problem is you need to change it up a bit. You know, get yourself out of the same old same old. It’s no wonder that after years of being my assistant by day, Dr. Donna by night, with no love life to speak of, the well of inspiration is running a bit dry. So I’ve come up with something that I think will help.”

  “What’s that?” Please don’t let it be some kind of retreat where she’d spend a week eating legumes and cleansing her aura. She’d sooner take on the fundraising schnoodles.

  “It’s more who’s that. We’re going to bring in Lucas.”

  She knew exactly one Lucas, but it couldn’t be him. “Lucas Grant?”

  Her aunt leaned back, then remembered her hair and sat forward again. “Yes. Lacey talked to Ethan and he thinks it’s a great idea too. He’s just getting the clearance from his bosses.”

  Rachel stared at her aunt, trying to process what she’d just said. What did Lucas Grant have to do with coming up with a new book concept?

  “The two of you always tag-team so well together and this is perfect. You’ll get to spend lots of time on air, get some fresh ideas, and of course Lucas gets to have Dr. Donna on his show and gets the boost to his platform from being on the road with us.”

  “Hold on, hold on. Come again? What are you doing?”

  “You’re going to go on Lucas’s show a night a week for a few weeks, and then he’s going to come and join us for some joint events on the tour. Well, we’re going to do one test event first, in a couple of weeks, to make sure it’s as popular as I think it’s going to be, but I know it will.” Donna clasped her hands together like a girl who had just been invited to the prom.

  She could not be serious. “You know about this.” Rachel pointed a coat hanger at their publicist.

  Lacey glanced up from her phone. “Donna’s plan? It’s pure genius. The actual romance expert and the accidental one live onstage. Tickets are going to fly out the door. Besides,” she tapped her nose, “sources have it Lucas is making a name for himself and people in high places are watching. It’s going to be a little awkward navigating all of Donna’s existing commitments, but we’ll make it work.”

  “Lucas will never agree to it.” Thank goodness for that. There was no chance, no way, that Lucas Grant would agree to come on Donna’s book tour and dole out relationship advice to rooms full of women.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Donna had the kind of Cheshire Cat smile she always had when she knew something Rachel didn’t. But Donna hadn’t heard how peeved Lucas had been when Ethan blindsided him with her appearance on the show. So Rachel was pretty confident she had this one in the bag.

  “Want to know what we’re calling it?”

  “Nope.”

  “The Feelings and Football Tour. Ethan came up with it.” Donna’s grin widened, if that was even possible, and all of a sudden Rachel knew that Lucas was in just as much trouble as she was.

  • • •

  “MAN, DO I have some good news for you!”

  Sweat dribbled down Lucas’s arms, drops hitting the pavement like a summer shower. He didn’t even look up at Ethan’s yell. The last time he’d shown up at the basketball court yelling he had good news, Dunkin’ had brought his favorite donut back for a limited time.

  Lucas faked right, then drove left, swerving past his opponent. One, two, three steps and a clear shot into the basket. He finished the sequence off by running circles around his downtrodden competition, fists pumping the air.

  Joey stood, hands on hips, scowl affixed, unimpressed by his uncle’s smooth moves. “Uncle Lucas!” You could have built a cabana on the ledge made by the kid’s bottom lip. “You said you’d play fair!”

  Lucas picked Joey up in one easy move, lodging him under his right arm and spinning around. “Sorry, buddy, just couldn’t resist.” He swung him upright. Grace would have his hide if he delivered Joey home with another “Uncle Lucas spun me until I puked” tale.

  He lifted Joey until they were eye-to-eye. “Ice cream or soda?”

  Gray eyes crinkled as the decision-making process worked its way through. “Two scoops?”

  “Sorry, little dude, I promised your mom. You know what happened last time you had two scoops.” It had been over a year ago, but hearing Grace tell the tale, it was only yesterday her favorite rug had been enhanced.

  Eyes clouded over. Poor little guy. A year ago was a fifth of your life when you were five. “Tell you what. Why don’t you pick my flavor too, and I’ll let you have some.”

  Sunshine returned. “Yeah!” A small palm high-fived his. “You’re the best, Uncle Lucas!”

  Joey scrambled down, chicken legs already churning to race across the adjoining playground to the cart by the swings.

  Lucas strolled over to Ethan, keeping an eye on his nephew, who had reached the cart and was bouncing up and down, trying to see into the ice cream
freezer.

  Ethan pushed himself up off the bleacher, brushing pieces of flaking white paint off his designer jeans. “Feel good beating a kindergartener?”

  Lucas pulled his T-shirt off, swapping it for the clean gray one he’d left on the sideline. He used the old one to wipe down his face and arms. “Guy’s gotta take his wins wherever he can find them.”

  He grabbed his water bottle off the bench and squirted some into his mouth. Ahhh. Icy goodness. He couldn’t stand lukewarm water. Grabbing his keys and phone, he threw his dirty T-shirt over his shoulder and bounced the keys in his hand.

  Joey bounced up and down on his toes, radiating impatience from across the playground. No doubt plotting to bargain an extra scoop for having to wait. Lucas loped across the distance between them.

  “Well?” Ethan trotted beside him, needing to take three steps for every two of Lucas’s.

  “Well what?”

  “Aren’t you going to ask what the great news is?” Ethan ran his hand through his floppy hair.

  Unable to take any more waiting, Joey ran back and came to a stop, doing some sort of jitterbug in front of them. “Uncle Lucas, I can’t decide between cherry or fish or cookies!”

  Ethan looked peeved at being interrupted, a harrumph escaping his lips.

  Served him right for crashing their play date. Lucas only got to take Joey out once a week, but he was stuck in a closet with Ethan Monday through Friday.

  “Tell you what, buddy.” Lucas flipped open his phone cover and extracted a twenty. “Why don’t you order one of each—Ethan needs one too, and I’m sure he’ll let you have some.”

  Joey palmed the money and ran away, a blur of yellow.

  Lucas shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Okay, tell me.” This had better be better than donuts.

  “Have you ever met Lacey O’Connor?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, you’re about to, and when you do, I hope you make your appreciation clear, because that wonderful, wonderful woman has just opened up a whole world of possibilities. Also, for the record, very easy on the eyes and stupid smart.”

  Not this again. How many times did he have to tell Ethan that just because his sports—sports—show kept getting hijacked by women wanting relationship advice, it didn’t mean he wanted one. In fact, he was pretty sure the gig worked because he was single. No girlfriend thinking everything he said was about her, about them. “Let it go, Ethan. I’m not interested.”

  Certainly not in Ethan’s kind of setup, anyway. The man thought Lucas should be using his quasi-fame to sleep his way around the county. He was pretty sure his mother would blast down the Pearly Gates and hurl them on him if he ever so much as thought about taking a woman home for nothing more than the night.

  “You can’t be serious!” Ethan stared at him like this was the first he’d heard of it.

  Lucas grabbed the toe of his sneaker and stretched his quad. Their ratings were just fine, as Ethan well knew. “Ethan, I don’t need a girlfriend. I don’t want a girlfriend. End of story. It doesn’t matter how you try and frame it.”

  Ethan looked at him, a smirk on his lips. “Well, I’m sure her boyfriend will be happy to hear that. If she has one. But that’s not what she’s offering. Lacey is Dr. Donna’s publicist.”

  Lucas grabbed his other toe, his sock poking through the worn sneaker. Ethan had lost him.

  He cast his gaze to Joey, who was sitting in a patch of sun by the ice cream cart focused on decimating his ice cream. Two other containers sat behind him, scoops melting in the sun. “What are you talking about?”

  “Lucas Grant and Dr. Donna Somerville on—get this—The Feelings and Football Tour.” Ethan spread his hands out as he said the words like he was seeing them in lights.

  Lucas rocked back on his heels. What the . . .?

  A grin split Ethan’s face. “Yes, you should be speechless. Lacey just pitched it yesterday—well, the idea; the name is mine—and the bosses just okayed it this morning. Donna is going to come and be on your show for a few weeks and then you’re going to join her at some events on her book tour for a couple of weeks. Maybe longer. They’ll call them The Feelings and Football Tour and you should see the venues they are booking. There’s one small pilot event next weekend to test to market, but that’s just a formality. Donna will be in town Thursday to do your show and tell listeners about it.”

  So many swear words exploded through Lucas’s head that he wouldn’t have been surprised if Miss Margie—his old Sunday school teacher—rose from the grave to slap him upside the head. “Dr. Donna is coming on my show the next few weeks to talk about feelings, and I’m going on her book tour to talk about football.” He uttered the words slowly, making sure there was no room for error.

  Ethan shrugged. “Well, let’s be frank. You’ll probably talk mostly about feelings on that, too.”

  “Yeah, nah. I don’t think so.” Lucas lengthened his stride and headed toward where Joey was still sitting on the grass with his ice cream.

  “What do you mean you don’t think so?” Ethan jogged to keep up with him. “This is huge! Think of her platform. Think of the wonders this will do for your profile and the show’s ratings. You keep saying you want to syndicate the show. This could be your golden ticket!”

  “I do sports. I want to syndicate my sports show.” Lucas shoved the words through his gritted teeth.

  “Um, actually, I hate to break it to you, but according to your contract, when it comes to promotional work, if the station orders you to get dressed up in a chicken suit and walk down State Street clucking, you do it. And it doesn’t get any more promotional than this.”

  “What about my show? Who’s going to cover that while I’m doing these events?” He had worked his way up from the bottom of the radio food chain. It had taken years to build up the experience and profile needed to convince a station to take a chance on giving him his own sports show. He wasn’t going to trust just anyone with it.

  Ethan shrugged. “Some of this will be on the weekend, so you shouldn’t miss too many. Once Lacey has confirmed the schedule we’ll fill in any gaps.”

  “Uncle Lucas?” For a second he couldn’t coordinate where the mournful words came from, then his sight bounced down. To a towheaded five-year-old with a mouth rimmed with brown and pink. “I don’t think you should have spun me like that. I don’t feel so good.”

  Well, that made two of them.

  - 7 -

  “Tell me why I had to come again?” Rachel mumbled the words to her aunt as the elevator doors swished open and deposited them into the reception area of WFM Madison.

  She was crabby. Her rare couple of days off mid-tour had been hijacked by the radio station asking if Donna could come to Madison to do a photo shoot and kick off the tour live in the studio with Lucas.

  Donna pulled a container of mints out of her purse and popped one in her mouth. “Lacey had something urgent come up. Besides, it will be good for you to meet Lucas since he’ll be traveling with us.”

  They accepted their laminated visitor cards from the receptionist and then sat on one of the beige couches in the waiting area. All around them were signed posters of the latest “it” celebrities and musicians.

  Rachel eyed the door behind the reception desk that Ethan or Lucas would be coming through any second now. “I’d rather not, actually. Behind all that Midwestern nice-guy shtick is probably just another DJ playboy who thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

  After tonight it would be Rachel doing shows with him. For four hours at a time. If it had been up to her, she’d have kept Lucas Grant safely at the end of the phone. She liked the Lucas Grant at the end of the phone. Didn’t really want to risk discovering he was actually a jerk. But that bird had clearly flown the coop.

  “Not all women. I prefer to leave the ones over fifty to Larry on the graveyard shift.” The familiar voice came from behind them and rolled up her spine.

  Rachel’s head jerked up to find a broad T-shi
rt-clad torso standing right behind their couch.

  Donna stood and turned, a smile playing on her lips. Rachel stood too, her ears burning. Not sure whether to be madder at herself or at him for having the temerity to not be in his office. Or whatever it was radio station hosts had.

  “Lucas, this is my assistant, Rachel. Please excuse her. Red-eye flights don’t bring out the best in her.”

  Rachel forced herself to look him in the face and her mouth went dry. Lucas Grant looked like a cowboy off one of the covers of the romance novels she used to read as a teenager. Tall. Brawny. Forehead a little too large. Pale blue eyes. Nose a little crooked. It had been years since she’d last seen a photo of him. Then he’d been in his twenties and with the fresh-faced look of someone just out of college.

  Not now. The aging process had only been kind to Lucas Grant.

  This was who was going to be touring with them?

  “Rachel.” Lucas held out his hand. In his other one he held a Starbucks tray with two venti-sized drinks.

  “Hi.” Rachel’s hand crept forward, and his fingers wrapped around it firmly.

  Wow. This wasn’t awkward at all. She tried to coax a smile onto her face, but only the left side of her mouth cooperated. No doubt making her look like a stroke victim.

  Lucas turned his attention back to her aunt. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long. The photographer said he was running a few minutes late, so I just ducked out to get you a coffee.” Pulling one out, he handed it to Donna. “One white chocolate latte with extra whip.”

  Donna’s favorite. Smooth, real smooth. Her aunt reached out and accepted her drink with thanks.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming, but you’re welcome to my flat white.” Lucas offered the remaining drink to Rachel.

  “No. That’s fine. Thank you.”

  Donna’s gaze bounced between the two of them. “Lucas. I was just thinking. We should have breakfast in the morning to discuss the plans for the tour. Can you set that up with Rachel while I go freshen up?”

  Lucas may have missed the speculative gleam in her aunt’s eye but Rachel knew it well. “You already have a breakfast meeting tomorrow and then our flight is straight after.” Rachel gave her aunt laser eyes. Which Donna refused to acknowledge.