Her thoughts, unsurprisingly—because she knew herself—turned to Jessica Barstow and the evening they’d had. Sydney’d been outed, pretty much, which only served to validate her trepidation around Anna St. John. Yeah, your brain throws up warning flags for a reason. Obviously. And while the fact that Jessica knew something about her she hadn’t shared had initially bugged her—not because Sydney was closeted, but because she felt it was her choice to tell somebody and her choice to decide when—she had to admit now that she’d been happy with Jessica’s reaction. Meaning that she hadn’t really had one. Sydney could count on one hand the number of people who’d shown any kind of disapproval in the handful of years she’d been gainfully employed in the very public business of television news, and those had all been very subtle signs. A slight change in facial expression, a dimming of the eyes, an almost indiscernible grimace. For the most part, though, nobody seemed to care one way or the other. It had shocked her how glad she was when Jessica didn’t blink an eye, because, for some reason, her disapproval would’ve stung—something she refused to dwell on. Not to mention, it was pretty clear that the possibility Jessica played on her team was high; Sydney couldn’t have been the only one to feel the heat between them. She almost let herself flash back to the horse-petting incident, but was able to corral her thoughts just in time and shake them away.
Anyway. Whatever.
She replayed the rest of the meeting in her head, then pulled out her notes. As they’d talked and Jessica had given her a little more history about Junebug Farms, Sydney had jotted down the bare bones of an idea that she would run by Brad tomorrow, see what he thought. Much as she’d eschewed the whole “human-interest” angle she’d been saddled with, she was starting to think maybe she was better at this than she’d expected.
Sydney readied herself for bed, grabbed her laptop, and perused the websites of a couple of stations she had her eye on, had had her eye on for months. No openings currently listed, but she’d send a couple e-mails anyway and then probably her reel. Knocking on the door couldn’t hurt, right? Persistence was good.
If there was one thing Sydney had learned in the past few years, it was that nobody was going to toss her desires into her lap. If she wanted something, she needed to go get it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“You okay today, boss?”
Bill’s voice startled Jessica enough to make her flinch in her chair. She’d been staring out the window, lost in thought, and had very nearly forgotten he’d been fixing the leaking faucet on the sink in her bathroom.
“Yeah. I’m fine, Bill. Just tired. Thanks for asking.”
Bill studied her for a moment, his large, thick-lensed glasses distorting his eyes just enough to make it hard to hold his gaze, and Jessica was pretty sure he didn’t miss a trick. He was the custodian—had been since before her grandmother had died—and a man of few words, so people tended to overlook him, but he knew all the ins and outs of every building on the property. He was an integral part of keeping Junebug Farms running smoothly, and sometimes, Jessica wondered if she was the only one who realized it.
“I had to jump Ms. Taylor last night,” he said, as he dropped a tool loudly into the metal box he’d brought in.
Jessica blinked at him, replayed his words in her head. “I’m sorry?”
“Her battery died. I had to give her a jump to get her home.”
“Oh. Oh!” Jessica shook her head and chuckled. “Really? But she was okay?”
Bill waved a hand as he hauled his toolbox up off the floor. “She was fine. Needs a new battery, though.”
Jessica felt a wave of guilt rush through her. She’d left pretty quickly last night, tired and embarrassed and just ready for the day to be over. “I should’ve waited to make sure she got off okay.”
Bill shrugged it off. “It was all right.”
“Well. I’m glad you were here. Thanks for helping her.”
“Faucet should be good now.” Bill jerked his chin back toward her bathroom. Then he was gone.
And now Sydney was on her mind again. “Oh, who am I kidding?” she muttered to the empty room. “It’s not like she’s been off my mind at all.” Jessica had slept fitfully last night, probably from being overtired. She found that lately, any time she lay awake, staring at her ceiling, cats curled up all around her body, her thoughts drifted to Sydney Taylor.
She didn’t understand why.
And that bothered her.
Before she could analyze it some more, there was a rap on her door and she looked up into the smiling face of Anna St. John.
“Hey, got a minute?” Anna asked, not waiting for an answer, but instead entering the office and taking a seat. In the same chair Sydney sat in last night.
“Sure. What’s up?” Jessica straightened her own chair and pulled herself closer to the desk in an attempt to look like she was paying attention.
“I’ve got some stuff for you to sign off on.” Anna handed over a bunch of papers. Jessica took them and sifted through. “Sydney Taylor was here last night, huh?”
Jessica looked up at her and squinted. “She was. Why?”
Anna shrugged, raised her eyebrows in innocence. “No reason. I heard Bill talking to Regina about having to jump her car.”
Jessica grimaced. “Yeah, I should’ve stuck around. I assumed she was right behind me, but didn’t really pay attention. I feel bad.”
“I was thinking I might give her a call,” Anna said.
Jessica blinked at her, surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Anna picked a piece of lint off her pant leg, her face the epitome of overconfidence. “We had a nice time. Maybe we can have another one. For longer.” She waggled her eyebrows in such a way that Jessica just looked at her.
“Do you think that’s such a good idea?”
“You don’t?”
“Well,” Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…” Her voice trailed off, as she really had no words. And realistically, no logical reason to deter Anna from asking Sydney out. She blew out a breath. “I mean, no, sure. Go for it. She seems nice.”
“And she’s super hot,” Anna said with a chuckle.
“She’s attractive, yes.” Jessica tried to focus on the papers awaiting her signature, not enjoying this conversation at all and wanting it to end. Like, now.
“It’s time for me to get back out there, you know? Since Catherine…” Anna let her voice trail off and turned her gaze toward the window, which pulled Jessica’s attention.
Anna and Catherine had been a mess from the start. That was clear to anybody and everybody who spent five minutes with them. And like so many lesbians tended to do, they’d stayed in the doomed pairing for much longer than they should have. While they hadn’t caused anything disruptive or distracting during business hours, the tension between them had been obvious at times, hung heavy in the air, crackling. Since Catherine had started dating Emily Breckenridge, however, that strain had died down to almost nothing, much to the relief of the rest of the staff. Catherine was happy now. And Anna was obviously lonely, which Jessica definitely could sympathize with. There was no reason for Anna not to give Sydney Taylor a call.
Why that thought caused an uncomfortable ripple in Jessica’s stomach, she refused to sit and think about.
Signing the last paper, she handed the sheets back to Anna. “There you go.”
“Great. Thanks.” Anna took the papers and stood, but hesitated. “You think it’s a good idea? Calling Sydney?”
Her face told Jessica that it was an honest question. She really wanted her input. “If it’ll make you happy? Sure.”
Anna grinned and waved the papers. “Thanks for these. Gotta run.”
Jessica watched her go and kept staring long after she was gone. Well, maybe this would be good for Anna. She could use some happiness; everybody deserved that. Anna wasn’t Jessica’s favorite person, but she wasn’t a bad person either. She was just…volatile? Was that the right word? A mixed bag? She had the tendency t
o be a chameleon; she could change her habits/moods/whatever to match those of her partner, which, she supposed, could be a good thing…for a while. After that, it inevitably became the hanging thread that, once pulled, unraveled the entire relationship. That’s what had happened with her and Catherine, and, though Anna seemed to date regularly, she hadn’t met anybody serious since.
The idea of Sydney being the next serious one didn’t sit well with Jessica, and that fact irked her to no end. Thank God her phone rang and pulled her attention in another direction because this was getting ridiculous.
*
Sydney had set aside time that afternoon to watch recordings of previous Junebug Farms annual telethons. She wanted to get a feel for how things were done, who, of the staff at the shelter, was best on camera, and what kinds of stories they’d already done, so as not to be too repetitive. A glance at her watch told her she’d been at it for nearly five hours, watching, skipping ahead, listening, skipping ahead, and her eyes were beginning to burn. Despite the gravel that was apparently creating walkways inside her eyelids, the time hadn’t been a waste at all, as she’d learned two things fairly early on.
First, the telethon definitely needed updating, something—many things, actually—to pull it into the twenty-first century. It wasn’t horrible, but it was certainly not going to be snagging the attention of any Millennials. It needed streamlining, tweaks to make it slicker, more present, a faster pace. Sydney already had a list of ideas in front of her to go over with Connor.
Second—and this was the thing that had kept her in the tiny, dimly lit viewing room for more than half the day—was that Jessica was a natural in front of the camera. She came across as relaxed and poised, approachable and friendly. You watched her talk and you immediately wanted to have coffee with her. And the camera loved her. Loved her. That creamy smooth skin of hers, not pale but not tanned, begged for you to touch it, to run your fingertips along her jawline. Her hair caught all the lighting exactly right, especially in the segments that were shot outdoors. The red strands captured the sunlight, gave it a warm hug, and reflected it back softly out into the world for all to see and enjoy. Sydney had the almost irresistible urge to wrap a lock of it around her finger, just play with it, test its softness. She listened as Jessica talked about the shelter, how it had begun, when she’d decided to take over, what it meant to her that every abandoned or abused animal have a chance, and Sydney was enthralled. She recalled that moment a couple hours ago when she’d watched a much older segment, one where the death of Jessica’s grandmother was still fairly fresh, and the way her heart had squeezed in her chest at the sight of Jessica’s soft blue eyes tearing, the movement of her throat as she’d swallowed down her obvious emotion at talking about a woman she cared deeply for. Sydney had felt her own eyes well up.
“Yeah, she’s a gold mine,” she muttered aloud in the small room, amazed at how somebody who could be so coolly aloof in person could come across so warmly onscreen.
The door opened, startling her—
“Hey, Syd, I e-mailed you a schedule of interviews I’ve set up so far.” The television screens that filled the room were reflected in the lenses of his glasses as he glanced up to look at her. “You looking at old telethons?” Connor Baskin always did that: began talking the instant he entered a room, completely unaware of whether or not he’d interrupted anything. Sydney was learning that he was a very focused guy, which she could appreciate.
Sydney nodded. “I thought I should. And her?” She pointed to the frozen shot of Jessica on one of the screens. “We should use her as much as we can. She really resonates.”
“I thought the same thing,” Connor said. “She’s poised and sophisticated enough to capture the older crowd, but hip and hot enough to pull in some of the younger demographic, if we give her the right stuff to say.”
“You think she’s hot?”
Connor gave her a look that said, does a bear shit in the woods? “You don’t?”
“I do. Of course.” Sydney didn’t like the uncertainty in her voice, so cleared her throat. “Anyway, I think we should use her more than they have in the past. Think she’d be up for that?”
Connor shrugged as he said, “Well, I think that shelter means the world to her, and if we position it so this maybe brings in more money, she’d be all for it.”
Sydney looked back at the screen, at Jessica’s face and the soft half-smile she was giving the camera. “What if we made her a cohost?”
She turned back to Connor, who was wearing what Sydney had come to know as his thinking face. Pursed lips, wrinkled forehead, eyes looking skyward. “It could work, if Brad agrees.” He studied the still. “We’d have to polish her up a bit, keep her part simple and easy. And she might not want to. The idea might terrify her.”
Sydney nodded as he spoke, listening to each statement, knowing he was right, and cataloging ideas in her brain at the same time.
“She does look great on camera,” he said.
“She looks amazing on camera.”
“We should find out.” Connor gave one nod, then turned to leave, tossing over his shoulder, “We need to get some B-roll soon.” And he was gone.
Sydney watched the door slowly shut, then turned back to the monitors and hit the Play button. Jessica was moving again, talking and smiling widely, occasionally raising a hand and gesturing to make her point. She was articulate; she never stuttered or stumbled over words. She was positive and likable and gorgeous to look at, and Sydney had the sudden flash of a tally board with numbers ratcheting endlessly upward. If she used that sort of incentive, she was sure she could get Jessica on board. Or…she didn’t really even have to tell her. Right? She could just give her more and more things to say and do and comment on and before she knew it, she’d be cohosting alongside Sydney.
This could work.
This could work really, really well.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The butterflies had started.
It happened every year when the telethon got close, but it was very specific. Jessica had been anxious for a couple of weeks now, but there hadn’t been that unnerving fluttering in her stomach like there was now.
“And so it begins,” she said quietly to herself as she watched out the window of her office. A white Channel Six van had pulled into the parking lot and a man was unloading some equipment and nodding while Connor Baskin talked to him, pointing in various directions around the grounds. The side door opened and Sydney Taylor slid off the passenger seat in black slacks, a royal blue sleeveless top, and her standard three-inch heels, which made Jessica roll her eyes. Sydney had called about an hour ago, told Jessica they wanted to take advantage of the sunny day to grab some B-roll—which Janet Dobson had taught Jessica was television speak for “background shots”—as yesterday had been gray and rainy. With the telethon barely three weeks away now, the pace of everything was picking up.
After making a quick intercom call to Anna letting her know Sydney had arrived, Jessica headed out to the lobby to greet her. Sydney’s smile was hesitant when she saw Jessica, and she walked toward her with her hand out.
“Hey there,” she said, and as Jessica shook her hand, it occurred to her that they stood eye to eye with Sydney in her heels. If I’m five seven, that would make her about five four. Smaller than I thought. Where those thoughts came from or why they now occupied her brain, Jessica wasn’t sure, and she did her best to shake them away.
“Sydney! Good to see you.” Anna’s cheerful voice cut through the air before Jessica could say a word and pulled all attention her way as she scuttled across the faux marble floor, arm outstretched. The expression on Sydney’s face was amusing to watch. Jessica detected very distinct emotions. Surprise followed by a quick flash of hesitation followed by resignation.
Sydney shook her hand. “Anna. Hi.” She introduced her cameraman as Jeff and reintroduced Connor.
Anna clapped her hands together once. “Okay. So. B-roll. I’ve got some great suggestions, some s
pots set up, so follow me and we’ll knock this all out in no time.” She turned on her heel and started off toward the cat wall, obviously expecting everybody to follow her. Sydney did, but not before glancing over her shoulder at Jessica with an expression that, this time, Jessica couldn’t read.
“I’ll come see you when we’re done,” she said as she moved away.
Jessica nodded and watched Anna wave an arm in a wide arc as she talked animatedly to Jeff, her eyes never leaving Sydney. She blew out a breath and went back to her office, happy to have been excluded.
The first two years she’d run the telethon, after her grandmother had passed away, Janet Dobson had been the one to offer suggestions on what would work well for B-roll. Jessica liked to think she’d learned a thing or two, but it really wasn’t her forté and it always made her a little nervous, made her feel unarguably out of her element. Once she’d hired Anna, she’d been able to—very happily and with great relief—let go of all of that and leave it in hands more capable when it came to publicity. This was the first time since then that a little part of her still wished she was participating, even as a bit player.
Which was ridiculous, as it made her stomach churn with anxiety to even think about it. She didn’t enjoy the fast pace of television, and it was even more nerve-wracking for her to be in front of the camera, but Anna insisted that Jessica was “the face of Junebug Farms.” So, she did it for the shelter.
It took some time, but by the time the knock on her door sounded, Jessica had become absorbed enough in her work that two and a half hours had gone by. When she looked up from her desk, Sydney stood there and she could see not Jeff, but a glimpse of his camera behind her.
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