by Claire Adams
BOSS BABY DADDY
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2018 Claire Adams
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Chapter One
Jason
"Shelby?"
It was minutes before I was supposed to go on air; where the hell was she? I was skimming my script while Lila dabbed something on my face. Last touches, she had insisted. I shooed her away impatiently. She was wasting her time; I didn't have a bad side.
"Shelby?" I called louder. "Where the fuck is Shelby!"
"Mr. Bowman?" I heard her reply, finally, hearing the click-clack of her heels. I shooed Lila away again who was trying to dab at my face some more as she walked up.
"About fucking time; am I talking to myself over here?" I asked her. She was holding her clipboard and looked like she wanted to be anywhere on the earth but there with me. Too bad. This was her job and if she had done it right the first time, then maybe I wouldn't have had to drag her away from whatever important fucking business she had.
"What is this?" I asked, waving the script at her.
"Looks like a script to me," she said. Fucking sass. She had that in spades; too bad I had to call for her a million times before she got off her ass.
"I thought I asked you to change it."
"You asked me to add more numbers. I didn't because it wouldn't work for the story. It would just slow your delivery down and be harder for the viewers to understand. Cutting away to a graphic would make more sense for the flow of the broadcast."
"Then maybe you should fucking read it," I snapped. “Since you’re the expert on delivery and timing.” She narrowed her eyes.
"Would you like me to change it?" she asked with sarcastic sweetness.
"It's too late for that," I said, impatiently, looking at the script again. News was real time, and it wasn't out of the ordinary to get updates during the broadcast. The reason we even needed writers was because stories needed to be reported in the simplest way possible. Shelby was good at her job, but when it came to working together, it was a different story.
"Then is that all?" she asked. I was going on in under a minute. She'd watch from the control room. No, that wasn't all, but I couldn't put production on pause because my writer was fucking up and pretending she didn’t know how to take simple instructions.
"Don't do this shit again," I said, thrusting the script at her and walking out to the news desk, where Helen, my co-anchor was already sitting. The lights were on, the prompter was ready, and the camera was trained on us. After getting my mic and sound check, we were ready to start rolling. I had been on the air for the last seven years. I could pretty much do this job in my sleep. That wasn't to say that it was necessarily easy, more that I was just good. Better than good, close to the best, and I wasn't the only person who thought so.
The thing was, we didn't just read the news. If that was all we did, then anyone would be able to do my job. As much as the news was supposed to be informative, the broadcasts at the very least had to grab and hold an audience. They had to be engaging. We weren't just reading the news; we were personalities. Aside from that, social media and online sharing had totally changed the industry. Our reach was further than just television.
My main story that evening covered a Christmas gift donation scandal involving a celebrity. I had come up through smaller regional stations, but WRTC broadcast nationwide. I always figured it was a specific personality type that went into broadcast journalism. There were the people who said it made them happy to inform people about what was going on in the world, but I wasn’t one of those people. Even though part of our job was to be as unbiased as possible, we still controlled the news. Controlling information, how people got it, when and from who gave me the biggest high. I fucking loved it. The actual time we spent on-air was the shortest in the day, but I never got tired of it. We wrapped the show in just about an hour.
Once we were off, I got up and started for the control room. Where was she? I wasn't done with her yet. I saw her coming out of the room as I walked towards it. She saw me, rolled her eyes, and kept walking. I called her, and she stopped, turning.
“Before you start with me, Jason, I think both of us just saw a perfectly good broadcast. If there was really something that wrong with the script, then it would have come up.”
“We’re not aiming for perfectly good, Shelby. We’re aiming for perfect, every time.”
“Then how about you get to work six hours earlier and work on these stories with the rest of the producers. Hm?” She turned and walked away again. She did that way more often than anybody else would let her. She wrote for me, which technically made me her boss. Who got away with shit like that in any other jobs? If she wasn’t so damn good at her job, maybe I wouldn’t let her do it. We had worked together what, eleven months now, and for me, that was a record. They usually didn’t crack three or four months. She might have been different, but she wasn’t special.
I followed her to the newsroom. She walked past her desk through to the break room. There were a couple people sitting at a table who stopped talking when we walked in. They got the idea and quietly walked out.
“I don’t want to see any of that shit again,” I said to her. She turned slowly to face me. There were times I felt like she came close, so close to smacking me across the face, but she never had. It was twisted, but I wanted to know whether I could get her to that point, see how far I could push her, how long she could really last.
“Great. Anything else,” she said, her voice strained.
“I’m expecting better for tonight’s broadcast. You don’t deserve it since I already warned you, but this is the last time I want to have this conversation. Get it right or get the fuck out.” I ran a hand through my hair and turned, leaving her in the break room. She had bite, sure, but as long as she worked for me, I was in control, and she needed to get with the program. The station would ditch her before they ditched me and if she wanted to stick around, I was the person she needed to keep happy.
Chapter Two
Shelby
I stood there, gob-smacked. That no-good, low-down, cocky piece of shit. I watched his back as he walked away. My grip tightened on the clipboard. God, would it feel good to launch it at his big, dumb head. Where the fuck did he think he got off talking to me, or anyone for that matter, like that? I worked for him, sure, but if he was the car, I was the engine that ran the damn thing. I felt hot. Fuming. Day after day I let him get away with this, but today... fuck it.
I followed him, walking quickly to match his long strides and grabbed his arm. He swung around, clearly surprised.
"You know what? Maybe I would be suited for a different job. Here," I said, pushing the clipboard into his chest. "Won't need this where I'm going. I quit." I turned on my heel and walked away. My heart was pounding, and my ears rang. Adrenaline coursed through me. I could hear him behind me telling me to stop, to come back, but I ignored him. Not today, Jason. Not again.
My hands were shaking by the time I got to my desk. I sat and choked out a ragged breath. What a day. His face, when I told him that I was done, h
ad been priceless. Don't know why he was so surprised though; he had had enough writers quit on him before, so he could just add me to the list. I sat, needing a minute. I was coming down from the high of finally sticking it to that insufferable bastard and reality was beginning to sink in.
Quitting meant I was unemployed. I had been lucky enough to not be living paycheck to paycheck, so I would make it a while without work. I knew I could get something. I had turned offers down while I had been here, from stations that were willing to pay me more and most likely wouldn't have made me deal with the likes of Jason Bowman. This had been a long time coming, I thought, getting back up. Fuck me for being loyal, right? Ugh. I deserved it at this point. I loved this job, and for so long, Jason being the one drawback hadn't been a good enough reason to pull the plug. Everyone has their limit, I suppose, and we had both found out what mine was.
I walked slowly to Victoria’s office, hoping I'd catch the director. She had hired me in that office eleven months ago. I had imagined that when I left, it would be because I wanted to and not because she let me go, but the circumstances weren't really the best. The culture and environment here had been huge reasons why I had stayed. I had thought that I would be able to outlast Jason Bowman, but he had gotten me in the end.
Victoria answered behind the door when I knocked, and I walked in. She was older, with a silver streak in her hair and consistently impeccable pantsuits. She must have sensed that something was amiss because she stopped smiling as I took a seat.
"Shelby," she said in greeting. "What can I do for you?" I took a deep breath, not looking forward to breaking the news to her.
"I came to say that I'm done, Ms. Fraser. I quit." Her facial expression didn’t change as she leaned on her elbows on the desk.
"This is out of the blue for you, Shelby."
"I know. I didn't think it would get to this point, but I can't do it anymore. It's Jason." She nodded ruefully.
"Hm," she said. I didn't even need to elaborate. She had had many more people before me in here making the same complaint.
"He's impossible to work with. He can't be as demanding as he is and still be ungrateful when people bend over backward for him. He behaves like a spoiled five-year-old. Nothing's ever good enough for him, and when something is, he can't even say a simple thank you for anyone's time or trouble."
"Yes," she sighed. "You're not the only person who's had a hard time with him."
"It's more than that. I know what I can do. I'm brilliant, goddammit. I'm good at my job. It's because I can actually write worth a damn that he can get on TV and look good. Working for him is insulting. I thought that I could deal with him, but I think I'd rather expend my energy doing something else." She nodded again, this time apologetically.
"I'm sorry that that's been your experience. I know what you're capable of. I'm sorry to be losing you as an asset," she said. I was sorry too. I felt like shit having to leave for that reason, but at this point, it was the job or my sanity. I could come in tomorrow, the next day, and every day after that and have my intelligence insulted and time wasted by an overgrown man-child, or I could cut my losses and go somewhere where I could actually think because I wasn't getting yelled at by an egotistical maniac. Victoria said she'd be happy to provide me with a reference and let me go, no salary negotiation or anything. She got it.
By the time I was getting back to my desk, the looks I was getting told me that my secret was already out. This being a newsroom, what were we if not experts at communication? I didn't have much at my desk; it should have taken me ten or fifteen minutes to get everything packed up, but it ended up taking twice that much time because of the constant questions I got from colleagues who had caught the scene or who were too nosy for their own good. The office rumor mill was something I wouldn't miss.
The crisp December air hit me as I walked out onto the street. It was already snowing. I'd be frozen to the core by the time I got to the train. I sighed, seeing my breath form a cloud in front of me. It wasn't all bad, I thought. How many of those offers that I had turned down in the past were still on the table? If the answer was none of them, I was confident that I'd get something with Victoria's reference. There were tons of news stations that needed writers and lots more anchors who needed someone behind the scenes to make them look good.
Now I could finally get somewhere. Had this job really been holding me back this much? I had felt good about it but dealing with Jason had apparently been more draining than I had even thought that it had been. Well, good luck to the next person who had to deal with that. They'd need it. I felt so free suddenly, like I could walk into any station and they'd hire me on the spot. With the experience I already had, I knew any place I went, I wouldn't be taking an entry-level position. The sky was the limit.
There were Christmas lights framing every window that I passed. I couldn't say that I had really been in the spirit lately but quitting had felt like an early Christmas present to myself. I left the busy, snowy streets and descended underground into the subway. A little less than an hour later, I was home. The first thing I did was strip my work clothes off and take a long, hot, relaxing bath. I deserved it after the day I had had. I had walked out of this apartment with a job and was now without one, yes, but I was also without Jason Bowman's bellowing voice in my ear, nagging like a whiny child.
On a normal day, I would have still been at work trying to do something that Jason would yell at me to change even though both of us would know good and well that there was nothing wrong with it. Today, I was drinking hot cocoa in my favorite lavender pajamas in front of my TV. Elf was on, and after, I was going for Love, Actually or The Family Stone, or probably both since I didn't have a job or anything I needed to get to the next day. I had stalled on a tree lately but had been taking advantage of the cold weather and endless stream of wholesome, nostalgic Christmas movies.
My phone rang as I was walking back into my apartment with the pizza I had ordered. I put it down quickly and grabbed the phone.
"Hello?" I said distractedly, trying to get the box open one handed.
"Shelby? Oh my god, is it true what happened today?" I held the phone away from my ear so I could see who it was I was talking to. Trisha: we worked together. She was part of the social media team at WRTC.
"That depends on what you think happened," I said, taking a bite of a slice of pizza.
"You ran out of the office crying after an argument with Jason and he got you fired?" she asked. I scoffed.
"He wishes that was how it went down; who told you that? No. I quit. He was a pain in my ass so I cut my losses."
"Shelby, you can't," she said.
"Already did," I replied, taking another bite out of my cheesy reward. I'd probably regret eating this, but I deserved it. Who didn't come back from the holidays at least a little bit heavier?
"You let him run you out of your job?"
"I didn't let him do anything, Trish. He was argumentative and ungrateful. He was lucky I stayed around eleven days much less eleven months. That's time I'll never get back. I'm taking my talent and hard work where it will be appreciated." I heard her sighing over the line.
"I heard the stories; was he really that bad?"
"No, he was worse."
"You didn't even say bye," she complained. I laughed a little. Trish was precious. She was a total nerd with glasses and superhuman smarts, but she was sweet. She was one of those girls who wouldn't know if a guy was flirting with her unless he said to her categorically that he was.
"I'm sorry. I kind of left in a hurry."
"The Christmas party's coming Monday night. Why don't you come?"
"It's a party for employees; I don't think I'm welcome anymore."
"Victoria won't care; she won't even really stay after spending an hour or so making her rounds. Besides, she liked you. You wouldn't even have to stay long, just enough for some drinks and to say bye to everyone." I thought about it. It didn't strike me as the worst idea, honestly. Taking Jason out of
the equation, the job had been enjoyable. I had liked a lot of my colleagues and one last drink with them did sound kind of nice.
"Will it be an open bar?" I asked. Trish squealed joyfully, making me laugh.
"Yes, it's going to be so much fun. You're going to love it."
"I'm holding you to that, Trish," I said, laughing. We hung up soon after. Truthfully, I had kind of been looking forward to the party so it was a good thing that Trish had reminded me. It was a work party though, which meant Jason would be there too. If he had any sense at all, then he'd stay away from me. He had already made my otherwise great job hell. He wasn't going to ruin this for me too.
Chapter Three
Jason
Another fucking holiday party. There should have been a rule that bosses weren't allowed to force their employees to fraternize outside of work hours. What were these supposed to do: build morale and friendships? Two things that took a nosedive when I had to spend one minute more than I had to with some of the people who I worked with. I spent more time with these people than I did my actual friends, but that was out of necessity, not because I liked them. Tell me, outside of work, what the hell did me and a lighting technician have in common?
I sat at the bar, bored out of my fucking mind. These things on paper were attendance optional, but really, if you wanted to keep your job, you came. I took a swig of my drink; the whiskey burned a little on its way down. The good stuff: Vicky didn't skimp on the booze when she put together these shindigs; she knew how much we'd need the lubrication. I threw a glance over my shoulder. People milled around the studio space with drinks, laughing and talking, counting the hours till it was safe to ditch.
Did I work with all these people? Seriously? Half of them I couldn't name if my life depended on it. There was one face I couldn't see though: Shelby's. I took another swig of my drink. That bitch. Who the hell did she think she was, quitting on me? A lot of other people had, but I had been hopeful about her. She seemed like she could actually keep up with me; finally, someone who could. I rode my writers hard, of course, I did. I had standards for myself and for the people who worked for me. She could have gone a long way if she hadn't caved and decided to run off to find someone who wouldn't push her to her full potential.
