by Nana Malone
“You’ve done on-air work before. You were great. Give me the real reason.”
Micha wasn’t in the mood to lay out all her dirty thongs, boy shorts, and tangas. “I’m not particularly enthusiastic about it. I’m sorry. But look, clearly the others are. They were literally climbing all over themselves for the spot.”
Miranda rolled her eyes. “Let’s you and I both be honest with each other, yeah? Eileen has a face for radio, Bradley comes across as insincere, and Rebecca is exactly like every other cutish girl who hosts anything, and she’ll blend. I started calling her the poor man’s Brook Burke.”
“Hey, remember Brook Burke made the show Wild On a huge hit.”
“Yeah, back in the nineties. I want you to consider what I’m offering you here. WST Entertainment has acquired us. We all will have to take on some new roles. Some of which we don’t particularly like. SDM is a mid to large circulation, but let’s face it, magazines might join newspapers and go the way of the Dodo soon. We all need to try to survive.”
Micha hated to admit it, but Miranda had a point. It wasn’t like she could very well tell her boss no. Well, she could, but then she’d be fired and that wasn’t on her list of things to do today. She didn’t have a billionaire in the family like Jaya did. “I promise to think about it.” She swallowed hard.
If she took this position, there would be no way to keep her past quiet. She’d done everything she could to keep the past where it belonged. She didn’t want the whole world finding out about how she’d fucked up and chosen the wrong guy. Or worse how his wife had gone off the rails altogether and tried to kill her. Micha shuddered. The mere thought of Trisha Jax was enough to have bile churning in her belly.
She dragged in a deep breath and then another. She’d done everything she could to put distance between her and New York. Not only would her biggest failure be up for judgment, but going on-air on a national network made her a sitting duck for paparazzi and gossip mongers, not to mention good old garden variety cray-cray. She didn’t need that. It was safer to stay behind the cameras.
“Oh, and how do you like the new guy?”
Micha shrugged. “I’m not going to lie. He’s organized and on top of it. Though I wish someone had told me so I wasn’t surprised.”
“I wish you’d been here to tell.”
Micha arched her brow. Miranda still wasn’t a fan of Micha’s flex schedule, but given her performance, the higher-ups had approved it for her. Miranda was still pissed she had no say in the decision.
“Don’t forget, I never actually leave work.” Micha held up her iPhone. “This is always on.”
Miranda’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “Was it work for the magazine?”
Like hell Micha was going to tell her where she really was. “Not directly, but I might be able to turn it into a feature article.”
“Good. Oh, and if you can make it romancey, the readers love that. Your whole A Year in the Life of a Single Woman blog still gets ten thousand hits a day.”
Micha couldn’t believe that. “That’s crazy. We did that in 2010.”
“Tell me about it.”
Miranda continued to lurk in her office, and Micha cocked her head. “What gives? You’re pacing.”
“Thing is, you only have until Monday to make a decision. They want production to start as soon as possible, so I’ll need you to think about it quickly. There’re screen tests and things to be coordinated.”
“Yeah, fine, I hear you.”
When Miranda let herself out, Micha breathed a sigh of relief. She was sure Miranda was going to bust out a full song and dance. Micha’s inner competitor fluffed her hair again, wanting to come out to play. On-air would change her life. And she wasn’t ready to unsettle her balance.
Micha chewed her lip. There was still one way to avoid on-air altogether. She could call in a favor.
As she reached for the phone, the envelope from the lawyers’ office caught her eye again. With a breath, she turned it over, unwilling to deal with the contents yet.
***
Micha paced outside of Adele Westhorpe’s office, waiting to see the old lady. All she had to do was convince Adele that she didn’t need to be on a short list for this job. How hard could that be? Never mind that the old lady was a bit of a barracuda and a shark at business.
Adele’s newest assistant approached Micha like a cowed animal, her head slightly bowed. Dang, what the hell did the old lady do to these kids? Every assistant she’d ever seen in here only lasted six months max, and they all looked like they’d been put through the wringer.
“Miss Bennett, Miss Westhorpe will see you now.”
Straightening her back, Micha followed the assistant into Adele’s expansive office. The contemporary furnishings were elegant and understated, but still comfortable. Adele stood immediately and came around the desk. “Micha, darling, I wish you had called. I would have made time to take you to lunch.”
Micha still couldn’t get used to this formidable woman considering her family through Jaya. Adele had sort of adopted her and Ricca the moment Jaya had said she’d marry Alec. It was also disconcerting, because Adele had the tendency to treat them all like recalcitrant children and meddle. Adele was the catalyst in nudging Beckett and Ricca together. If she hadn’t meddled, the two might still be circling each other.
“Sorry to pop in today. I figured it was a long shot to catch you. I didn’t expect you’d actually be free to chat.”
“For you, always.” She squeezed Micha’s hand, but in the same breath, scowled at the assistant who brought in a tea cart until the poor thing scurried out of the room like a frightened mouse.
“How do you get them to fear you like that? My assistants aren’t scared of me at all. Maybe I’m doing something wrong.”
Adele showed her to a chair. “They scare themselves half the time. I’m extremely demanding and fire at will, so there’s no room for error.”
“Must be exhausting replacing them.”
Adele’s eyes rolled heavenward. “You have no idea. Though Jaya insists she has the perfect assistant for me. We’ll see.” Adele patted her bob. “So what can I do for you, Micha?”
Here goes nothing. “Well, it’s about WST Entertainment and the on-air anchor position.”
Adele beamed. “I know—exciting, isn’t it? You realize I couldn’t hire you outright. There are people with lots more on-air experience than you, but I’ve seen the work you did in New York, and I’m impressed. I can’t wait until you do the screen test.”
Shit. This was not how Micha wanted the conversation to go. Adele wasn’t supposed to be so excited about it. “Look, Adele, I’m thrilled for the opportunity, but honestly, on-air isn’t where I want my career to go. I need you to take me off the short list.”
Adele frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous, darling. You’re perfect. I only need the network drones to see you, then it’s a wrap.”
Micha exhaled. “Adele, I need you to listen to me. I really don’t want it. I’m not being coy or negotiating for a better salary, though that would be nice, but I don’t want it. It’s not me.”
A line formed between Adele’s brows as her frown deepened. “So you mean to tell me you want to back out of the running for a coveted hosting position on an entertainment news network? Do you have any idea how many magazine editors would kill for that kind of role? Magazines are quickly following the newspaper. This is good for your career.”
“Well, I don’t want it.” Micha set her jaw and met Adele’s gaze. “Find someone else.”
Adele studied her. Her slight smiled resembled a Cheshire cat’s. “No.”
What the hell? Micha shook her head. “What do you mean, no?”
“I mean, I still want you to do the screen test. I’m not taking your name off the list.”
Anger simmered under Micha’s skin. “Adele, you can’t control me. I’m not Alec or Max. I will determine what direction I want my career to go and how and when that happens.” Micha stood, buildin
g up steam from her pressurized anger. “I appreciate you taking Ricca and I on as adopted daughters-in-law of sorts, but I’m not your kid. I won’t be lectured. Nor will I be controlled.”
Adele sat back and crossed her arms, her smile broad. “You have fire, Micha. It’s unlike you to back down from a challenge. I’ll take your name off the list if you tell me why, and it has to be a stronger reason than you don’t want it. Why don’t you want it?”
“None of your business, old lady.”
Adele grinned. “Watch who you call old. But I like the fire. And the answer is still no. Unless I can have my reason.”
Shit. There was no way she could tell Adele why she didn’t want the on-air gig. From her peripheral vision, Micha could swear the walls were closing in. Her breathing rate increased as her heart ticked up several beats. Shit. She was not having a panic attack here. Not in front of Adele Westhorpe, of all people.
She forced herself to draw in a deep breath and focus on her quarry. When that didn’t work, she dragged in another breath. “Adele, I’m sorry. My reasons are my own. But I’m sure you’ll find the right person to anchor this show. But it won’t be me.”
Adele stood and nodded. “Fine. If that’s the way you really feel about it.”
Oh, thank God. Relief washed over her, and the suffocating walls receded. “Thank you. I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but it’s not what I want. I can’t make it work. Not even for you. I appreciate you taking the time to listen to me.”
“Oh, you misunderstand, darling. If you don’t want on-air, there’s only one way out of it.”
What was the catch? “How?”
“You can quit your job. As long as you work at SDM, I expect you to do the screen test. At least give us something to work with. If, after that, you’re selected and you really don’t want it, we can discuss. But I’m not going to entertain the fear right now.”
“You want me to quit my job?” Fury made her jaw tight. Every word tore out of her chest with effort.
“Not at all. I’m giving you your options. Either you do your on-air test, tell me the truth about why you don’t want the position, or quit. What’s it going to be?” Adele’s voice was calm and authoritative.”
Micha stared at the older woman, battling the irrational need to throw something. “Adele, I’m not telling you shit.”
Adele gave her a beatific smile. “There’s the Micha I know. In that case, I look forward to seeing your screen test in a few days.”
Micha scowled. “What makes you think I’m not quitting?”
“You’re not an idiot, darling. You love your job. And it’s not in your nature to quit.”
She had to get out of there before she strangled Adele. Alec wouldn’t be pleased if she killed his mother. Turning on her foot, Micha stalked out of the office. Before she left, she turned back to Adele. “I don’t need a mentor, Adele.”
Adele grinned. “Of course you do. Trust me. This will all work out.”
***
“I come bearing gifts.” Caleb held up the six-pack of Blue Moon, knowing it was the only beer Micha might drink.
She gave him a half smile and let him in. “So, which one of us is going to go first?”
He put the beer down and turned to face her, leaning back against the counter. “Go first with what?”
“Admitting that they were in a mood today and say sorry for their behavior.” She shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and rocked back and forth on her heels then the balls of her bare feet.
“Well certainly not me.”
She raised a delicately arched eyebrow and narrowed her eyes. “Me neither. Stalemate.”
He shrugged. “Guess we’ll have our own beer summit.” He should have known she’d be stubborn. Micha had a way of getting to things in her own time, and God help he who tried to push her faster.
“Beer summit it is.” She pushed past him, and he smiled silently. She could pretend all she wanted that he didn’t affect her. But he could feel the crackle of electric energy between them, and there was no way it was only him. At least that’s what he told himself.
She handed him a bottle opener. “So what gives? You look like shit. Looks like you’re not getting enough sleep.”
Ahh, there it was. Her trademark bluntness. But concern etched her features as she studied him. “I’m probably not. What about you? You haven’t dragged me in here with a movie already playing, telling me to grab a slice as you catch me up on the plot.”
Over the course of two years, they’d become begrudging friends. More like she was begrudging and he was hopeful. She’d shot him down, but he still held onto that glimmer of hope that he could make it happen. That he could make them happen.
When he’d found out that she liked heist movies, he’d shown up on her doorstep one night with beer and Inside Man. His mistake, he’d brought Stella Artois to drink, and Micha had wrinkled her nose, stating that beer tasted like piss, but she’d take the movie. He’d hoped for something a little more romantic, but at the end of it, it had been fun.
Beckett was right; they’d been dancing around each other for too long. Caleb saw the way she watched him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He merely had to figure out why she was so against dating him. Hell, half the time she acted like she didn’t like him. The other half of the time, she watched him with an edgy readiness, like she was daring him to break down and kiss her already. Or more. But he was patient. If he could wait her out, she’d come around to his way of thinking…eventually. He never gave up on anything.
“So what’s the movie for tonight? When you texted and said ‘I have the entertainment covered,’ I left my DVDs back home.”
“Well I have something a little different planned.”
He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of this. “What?”
She gave him a sunny smile, and his heart rhythm had an interruption. Thud-Pause-Pause, then a round of faster thuds. God, with the way her ringlets framed her face and shoulders she looked like an angel. Her almond-shaped, grey eyes danced.
“Now I need you to keep an open mind.”
“Yeah, okay, what?”
“That dance show on television. By watching the partnering, we can figure out what we’re doing wrong. Because let’s face it, yesterday was a disaster.”
How the hell had he become the kind of guy who watched reality shows?
“A dance show?”
She nodded, and her curls bounced merrily around her shoulders. “Puh-lease, it’s my favorite, and right about now, I could get my mind off of a few things.”
Under normal circumstances, the idea of a reality show would have him running for the door. If it wasn’t Sports Center or Dexter, he wasn’t interested. Well, except for that hillbilly toddler pageant one. But he wasn’t ever telling anyone that. Not even on his death bed.
“Why what’s on your mind, Micha? I promise your reputation as a fantastic dancer can withstand dancing with me.”
“No, it’s not that.”
She blew a curl out of her face, only to have it boing right back over her eye. Caleb wanted to tug on that curl to see if it was as soft as it looked. To clear his mind of the random fit of the stupids, he shook his head.
“I was offered a promotion today.”
“Are you kidding right now? You should have said something. I would have brought over Cristal or whatever it is all the rappers are drinking now.”
She laughed loud and clear and completely unrestrained. “I thought you already knew. And it’ll have to be Dom or something else since Sean Carter called for a boycott on Cris. I’ll just call him and check for the latest cool brand.”
Caleb shook his head. “Don’t bother. He and Beyoncé have their hands full with Ivy Leaf, or whatever her name is.”
Micha laughed again. “I’m not sure if I should be impressed that you know that Sean Carter is actually Jay Z or that you deliberately teased that poor baby about her name.”
“Of course I know who Ja
y Z is. I don’t live under a rock. Don’t let the dapper look fool you.” He indicated his T-shirt and jeans. “Inside me lives a hip-hop connoisseur. I even know that Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s name was eventually changed to Sweet Baby Jesus. I know things.”
She giggled. “I stand corrected. You know things.”
“So, do you want to tell me why you don’t look happy about the job offer?”
She sat silently for a minute, watching a pair of dancers as they performed to the colossally long Titanic song. “I don’t want the job. What it means.”
“Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. Maybe it’s just a job. Where is the supremely confident Micha Bennett at? The woman who told me upon our first meeting, and I quote, ‘We’re going to sleep together eventually, so we might as well get this show on the road.’”
She squealed and covered her face. “Oh, my God, I did not say that!”
“Yeah, princess, you did.”
She rolled her eyes heavenward and giggled. “Okay, maybe I did say that, but to be fair, I’d had a couple to drink.”
“A few drinks or not, I’ve only ever known you to speak your mind and be direct as hell. If you don’t want the job, turn it down.”
“I wish it was that simple. If I take it, it means I’ll be dealing with celebrities and stuff. I wanted to do more serious journalism, features, you know. Exposé type of stuff.”
“Any reason you can’t? I hear Oprah’s left a vacancy.”
“We’ve been bought by Adele’s media company, and she wants to give Bravo and E! some competition. I’m sure they’re not going to let me ask the kind of questions I want to. I’ll be forced to stand on some ridiculous red carpet, asking some anorexic, wannabe actress who made her see-through, crotch-baring dress.”
Caleb coughed as beer went down the wrong pipe. “Does such a dress exist?” And when can I see you in it? “Wait, why did you think I already knew about the job?”
She shook her head distractedly as one of the contestants fumbled their solo routine. “Oh, I received flowers. I thought you’d sent them to apologize for class.”
