by K. Bromberg
I’m obsessing. Usually, it’s over fashion. This time, it’s over a man.
It must be this fresh country air finally getting to me. Maybe that and the fact that it’s been a while since I’ve had sex, so the first man who makes me clench my thighs now owns my thoughts.
“I’ve met my ten, and America picked well. They all have serious sex appeal, but I have one who I think will be the winner. Defined. Dedicated. And Delicious.” She licks her lips and grins, the tension in the room suddenly dissipating.
“Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm. I put my money on Braden Johnson to win. Check him out.”
She turns her computer screen my way, and I murmur a sound of approval. Dark skin that stretches taut over muscled perfection. Kind, brown eyes that hold a unique combination of sincerity and amusement. A smile that lights up his features and matches the one the little girl next to him is wearing. She’s adorable and so are her pigtails.
“He’s hot. I’ll definitely give you that.” I stare a bit longer, noting the way her whole hand is gripping his index finger. It still isn’t enough to get Grayson out of my head. “But I’ll take your money and raise the ante because the guy I went to see, the Grayson Malone guy—”
“The hometown boy, right?”
“Yep.” I meet her smile for smile. “Not only is he the one who is going to win, but also he is going to put a face to this contest and give us the publicity we need to bring it to the next level. He’s the total package.”
Her laughter fills the shared office space. “That’s a pretty bold statement about the flyboy we don’t have a clear picture of.”
“I’m telling you.” I turn my chair to face hers. “We put him on the cover, and we’ll not only sell print but also increase our online presence. Step up the promotions—I’ve already been able to secure BuzzFeed, TMZ, Perez. If they’ll talk about him, we could get a rally behind him.”
“That’s pretty biased, don’t you think?” she says, pursing her lips as she leans back in her chair and studies me. “Readers are supposed to pick the winners. Not us.”
“I believe you already had your pom-poms out for Braden.”
“Agreed. But you’re the one in control. Pulling the strings. You could easily sway readers to vote for your man over mine.”
“First, he isn’t my man. And second, if it comes down to these two finalists, we could always have a cover contest. The most votes land the winner on a cover, or something like that. Let the readers feel involved.”
“Could work.” Her gaze doesn’t relent, and I know she still isn’t one hundred percent behind my turning her little parenting magazine into a hot man show. Skin sells. Let’s hope that’s true for my sake, anyway. “Let’s get a look at the new images you got of him and the new bio you have written up.”
All that bravado I just spewed is about to be shot to shit, but I fake it anyway. “I don’t have them yet.”
“Don’t have them yet?” she asks as a smile toys at the corners of her mouth. “I’m confused—wait a minute. He’s the only one who’s local, who we can meet face-to-face, and you couldn’t get a shot of him? Braden’s from Kentucky.” She points to the picture of him on the screen for emphasis. “And I was able to get plenty of new images of him. Last night he emailed about five to me. So . . .”
“It’s complicated.” Telling her he shut the door in my face doesn’t really make me seem like manager material.
“Okay.” She draws the word out with an impatient expression that says I’m a novice and don’t know what the hell I’m doing. “Then how do you plan to exploit this guy—because, let’s face it, that’s what you will be doing—if you don’t have pictures to show?”
“Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“You also said every single task was completed . . . and this was one of them.” I grit my teeth at the holier-than-thou look on her face but don’t say a word. “Listen, you’re talented. Damn talented. But that pretty little ego and stubborn streak of yours doesn’t allow you to take direction well. I’m here to help you. To teach you. Of course, I’m supposed to give reports to your father, but I know that’s a double-edged sword for me in my position. So here’s the thing—I’m tough, but fair. I can go toe-to-toe with you one minute and then brush it aside and get down to business without a grudge the next. But the question is, can you, Sidney? Your success only helps me in the long run, so we can either work together and I can teach you some things while you’re here or we can go day to day, questioning the other’s motives.”
My spine stiffens. I want to reject her words on principal and accept everything she’s said all at the same time. “Okay.” I swallow over the myriad of other things I want to say because she’s right. We need to work together.
“Good.” All that’s missing is her dusting off her hands to demonstrate this topic is over. “So, where were we? Grayson Malone. No new pictures or bio for next round. Why not?”
And just like that, she flips the switch in a way most women can’t.
“I’m working on it. He isn’t exactly enthusiastic about being a finalist.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s either a really good actor or someone else entered him without him knowing it.”
“Oh, even better.” She rubs her hands together. “A reluctant hero. Those are always the sexiest ones.”
“Sexy and then some,” I murmur as I absently run an antibacterial wipe over my keyboard. When I look up, she’s watching me with her brows raised as if to say I’m being ridiculous when it comes to germs. “You’re from around here. Don’t you know who he is?”
Her laugh is amused annoyance. “I’m a single mom with three kids all under the age of twelve. I don’t have time to breathe or take a pee without being interrupted, let alone meet other people or follow their lives.”
Her chastisement of my life—single and what I’m certain she feels is vapid and empty—rings loud and clear. “Oh.” Not many people leave me at a loss for words, and yet, on the heels of her “you’re-either-with-me-or-against-me” comments, I am. Her statement highlights the stark differences in our lives.
“I know of his family. His dad was the chief of police or something . . . but I’ve never met them. I live in Riverville and commute in to the office so . . .” Her words fade off as if to tell me that I should know this.
“I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t. You never asked.” She straightens her papers with a sharp rap against the desk before she continues. “Was his wife okay with this?”
It takes me a second to respond, my mind still on her subtle rebuke of me never once really interacting with the staff here. “Wife? I didn’t see anyone else there other than Grayson and his son.”
“Ah, a single and hot dad. Even better for marketing. All we need is his backstory—preferably something good and emotional—and he’s golden. Tell me we have that.”
“I was just telling my friend the same thing, but—”
“But like the pictures you don’t have a new bio.”
“Right and honestly, I don’t know for sure that he isn’t married.”
“Let me check.” There are fingers on keys and murmurs from her as I wait. “The registration form doesn’t say. That question wasn’t answered.”
I walk over to her desk and peer at the screen. “It also doesn’t say who entered him.”
“Maybe he signed up thinking nothing would come of it, and now he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to claim it.”
I twist my lips before saying, “Nah. From his reaction, I don’t think he entered. He doesn’t seem like the type.”
“Can’t you use some of your history growing up here to connect with him? Woo him or whatever you need to do to convince him he should do this?”
“Our history is a detriment.”
She jogs her head and looks my way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I was a snotty bitch in high school who used to hang out
at the diner where he used to work—Lulu’s—and I don’t think my friends or I were the kindest of people back then.”
“The privileged kids too good for the middle-class ones who should be the hired help.”
“Something like that,” I muse, not too thrilled with the label despite knowing it’s deserved.
She nods. “Good on you for owning it. And just think, this is the perfect way to make amends for it.”
“What?” I ask through a laugh.
“Get Grayson to participate. Help get him some big-man-on-campus points for being a hot dad. And then reward him with the prizes if he wins. Maybe throw a party as a way of saying sorry for being a dick when we were younger while you’re at it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, I’m serious. That’s your new task. Get Grayson on board by the end of next week. He’s definite eye candy, which will no doubt help with publicity, and that benefits both our jobs.”
“You’re serious?” I don’t know why I ask that when I know it to be fact.
“As a heart attack.” That smug smile of hers is back. “Figure out how to soothe his ego and make him your cover boy. My report to your father will be dependent on it.” She turns her chair and faces her computer. “And if you can’t, I’ve got Braden over here whose horn I want to toot.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Can’t blame a girl for fantasizing.”
“You definitely can’t.”
“I hear congratulations are in order.” My mom’s smile grows wider with each passing second as she stares at me.
“For what?” I look to Luke, whose grin mysteriously matches hers.
“Luke told me all about being a finalist in—”
“It isn’t happening, Mom. It’s most likely some marketing gimmick to save the whales or something and—”
“And you have something against saving the whales?” Her hands are on her hips, and Luke’s snickering because that usually means someone’s in trouble.
“She said she thinks Dad has a real chance at winning,” Luke says excitedly.
“She?” My mom’s ears prick up and every part of me bristles as she bends over and puts her hands on her knees to be eye level with Luke. “Who is she?”
“Miss Sidney,” he continues. “She’s really pretty and nice and—”
“No one.” I push Luke gently on one shoulder as my mom puts her hand on his other and holds him in place.
“He was just filling me in on things you won’t,” she says with a lift of her eyebrows and that look that tells me even if we don’t discuss this now, she’ll get it out of him the minute I leave.
Just what I need.
“Why don’t you go play with Moose,” I say, referring to my parents’ mammoth of a dog.
“There’s a vacation and money if he wins. A vacation, Nana! Maybe we could go to Disneyland!”
“How fun,” she says and smiles. He looks from me to her, shrugs, and then takes off down the hallway.
“No running in the house!” my mom calls out, and his feet slow to a hurried clomp before there’s a quick thumping of a tail. The behemoth of a dog winds up in excitement over seeing his most favorite human, and Luke’s laughter is loud as it carries into the kitchen.
“Who was this lady?”
“It doesn’t matter who she is because I’m not doing the contest.” I open the refrigerator and grab a bottle of water before sitting on one of the barstools that gives me a view of the backyard. “Thanks for taking Luke for a bit.”
When I turn to look at her, her hands are on her hips and an expression that tells me she isn’t buying a word of what I’m saying. “You should do the contest, and who is the lady?”
“I’m not doing the contest, and the lady is Sidney Thorton, as in Claire’s close friend in high school, Sidney Thorton. You happy?”
“Oh.” I take another sip and push around the unopened mail on the counter out of habit as she figures out what to say next. Recognition flickers in her eyes. I know she knows who Sidney is. “That shouldn’t stop you from participating. It might be fun.”
“Fun? No thanks. I have my reasons. Subject over.”
She stares at me, completely dissatisfied with my response but aware that our staring contest isn’t going to get her anywhere. I may be the peacekeeper in the family when it comes to others, but when it comes to my own personal matters, no one tells me how to handle them.
“Well, then,” she says as she grabs the sponge and starts wiping down the already clean counters to busy herself. It’s also her way to staunch the hurt I’ve just caused by not letting her mother me more. “So, uh, anything fun you’re headed off to do?”
I can’t help but laugh. After all that, of course, she reverts back to the classic Betsy Malone staple of conversation. When I don’t respond, she turns my way to let me know she’s already conjuring up stories about how I’m headed off to have a secret rendezvous with some mysterious woman.
“You already have a grandchild from me, and there sure as hell isn’t going to be another marriage in my future, so the things I’m headed off to do won’t interest you,” I say and wink to cut her and her constant quest for more Malones off at the pass.
“A mother can wish, can’t she?”
“You’ve had two weddings and added two more grandkids in the last three years. I think Grady and Grant are holding down the fort just fine for me.”
“And now I don’t need to worry about your brothers and can focus all my help on you. I heard you were out with what’s-her-name not too long back?”
She’s relentless, and I don’t need or want her help, but I humor her.
“What’s-her-name? She can’t be too important if you don’t even remember her name.” I chew on a smile, knowing I’m frustrating her.
“Anna Metz.”
“That was like three months ago.”
“Well, was there something wrong with her? Why’d you cut it off?”
I glance over to where Luke is playing in the backyard with Moose before leveling her with a stare.
“I’m not seeing anyone right now. I never am.”
“So, you just sleep with them, then? That’s no way to find a woman to settle down with.”
“No one said I was trying to settle down. Remember? I already tried that once. We both know how that turned out.” There’s bitterness in my tone that she doesn’t deserve.
But then again, I didn’t deserve what happened, either. To have the perfect life I swore we were headed toward blow up in my face all because of outside influence. And affluence. I’ll never put myself in that position again. I’ll never allow myself to strive for a happily ever after because that means I’d have to depend on someone else to get it.
“Not all women are like Claire, Gray.” Her hand is on my arm, her voice softens.
“Feels like I’m fucking surrounded by them these days,” I mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing. I know they aren’t, Mom. I know all women don’t walk away from a son when he’s a couple of months old and then go through the legal proceedings to terminate all parental rights. And most kids don’t ask every night if they’re ever going to have a mom and look for one in every woman their father talks to. I know settling down might be good for me, but I can’t put Luke through the false hope every damn time.”
“Having a woman around might be good for him.”
“We’ve been over this. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. Any woman I bring into my life, Luke becomes attached to. I can’t risk him being crushed when we call it off. He’s had more heartbreak than most kids should ever have to go through. So I get it, Mom. I appreciate that you’re trying to tell me to have a life outside of being a parent . . . but not right now. Not when he’s this young. Not when trust is an issue for him as much as it is for me.”
“The only way to combat a lack of trust is to invite someone into your life and show him how to trust.”
“You don’t think I know that? You do
n’t think I would love for him to have a mother who could take him to the million school activities that all the other moms are at, so he doesn’t feel left out? I do, but I’m not there yet.”
“I’ll go with him. Any time. You just tell me when.”
My sigh is heavy and is matched by Luke’s laughter outside. I stare at him, at this perfect piece of me, and hate that he suffers because I couldn’t make Claire happy enough to stay.
Then again, I don’t think anything was more important to her than her.
“I know you will, and I appreciate it. But it isn’t the same.”
“I know.” Her hand rests on my arm as we both watch him roll around while Moose tries to lick every inch of his face. “Then, you go with him to those mother functions. You’re as much his mother as you are his father.”
“That’s comical.”
“I’m being serious.”
“I know you are. It’s just . . .”
“It’s hard balancing being a parent and being a person, being a single man. You aren’t alone, though. There are tons of single parents—men and women—who face the same exact thing as you are, and they don’t give up. They can’t. It’s their mini-me beside them who’s looking up to them and preventing them from giving up.”
I meet her eyes and see the compassion there. I know she means well, but some conversations are better not had with your mother. Like ones about sex and how casual it is or isn’t. “I have a lot of shit on my plate right now, Mom. A lot. The last thing I need to do is get involved with someone.”
“You’ll be back to work before you know it.”
“I shouldn’t be suspended from flying to begin with.”
“You always were one to take risks.” Her eyes meet mine, and I can tell she wishes she could take this all away for me, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat if I had to.
“In my job, I have to. That’s how I save lives.”
“You took off when you were told not to, Gray. You disobeyed orders.”
“Are you siding with them now? Christ.” I shove a hand through my hair and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“No. I’m a cop’s wife,” she says and winks as if I didn’t know it. “I understand that sometimes the line needs to be blurred. But I also know there are supervisors for a reason.”
