by Claire Adams
I leaned back in my chair, running my fingers through my wild hair. I grabbed my purse and went to the bathroom. With the few minutes I had before I had to head into the studio, I managed to get my hair into a neat enough bun and drew on some eyeliner and put on some lipstick. The morning routine I had for Damien and I obviously would need some tweaking in case we had another bad night. But hey, look at that. I was still standing. Getting through the pregnancy and birth had taught me that I could be tougher than I thought. There would probably be more nights like the one we had had, and we'd get through them.
Coming out of the bathroom, I felt level for the first time that morning. I made a stop at my desk then made my way to the studio. I was heading towards the control room when I heard someone calling my name. It was Davis. I stopped as he came up to me.
"What happened? I was looking for you earlier," he said.
"Sorry, we must have missed each other," I said. It wasn't hard pretending with him. There was a chance that people in the office knew that we saw each other sometimes, but it wasn't hard to turn it off when we were at work. I was attracted to him, but not the ridiculous lust that had people ripping each other's clothes off whenever they were alone. He ultimately was safe, and I liked that. At this point in my life, it was what I needed.
"I wanted to talk to you about something. I got an email from your old friend."
"My friend?" I asked, raising my brows.
"Jason? Jason Bowman. I just saw it this morning, out of nowhere." Working in the same field, he obviously knew about Jason. The station I had worked for in New York was in something of a friendly rivalry with this one; the same went for the pair of them. Two attractive, eligible bachelor news anchors at one time was apparently too many. They were about the same age and had gone to the same college; they knew each other. Davis also knew that I had worked directly under Jason. I had strategically left the part about sleeping with him and having his baby out.
"That's weird."
"Not as weird as what he said."
"What was that?"
"He said he wanted to hit me up because he was thinking about making plans to come to L.A. for a while."
"What?" I choked. I felt the color drain from my face.
"Yeah. He apparently wants to catch up, see the studio; I couldn't believe it either."
"Do you think he's actually going to show up?"
"I don't know. He said his plans weren't set in stone, but the email was so out of the blue, he had to have sent it for a reason."
"What did you tell him back?" I asked, hoping he didn't read into the real reason for my curiosity.
"I told him he'd know where to find me if he ended up coming."
"You're friends now?"
"You know what they say about keeping your enemies close," he said lightly, shrugging. It wasn't that deep. They had independently had enormous success. Their rivalry was kind of an industry joke; neither of them was actually out for the other's spot. What I was still having trouble figuring out was why Jason would want to come to Los Angeles. Seeing Davis and the studio didn't seem like good enough reasons to come all the way here. There was work, I suppose. Maybe he wanted to do some stories from here, or research.
"Have fun then," I said with a shrug. Davis scoffed.
"I can't imagine what he wants... unless his plan is to somehow convince you to go back to New York with him," he said, laughing. I laughed too, hollowly.
"It wouldn't work," I said honestly.
"I'm holding you to that," he said, smiling. He had to leave then, and I let him. That had been true; there was nothing Jason Bowman could say that would make me leave my job here. I was done with New York's bipolar weather for good. That and him. My mind raced. What if he... no, that wasn't it. How big did my head have to be to think that he was coming here because of me? We hadn't talked in a year; he probably hadn't even thought of me since the last night we had seen each other. The night when Damien had been conceived.
Working in the same industry, the chances that we would cross paths weren't high, but they were always there. I had known that physical distance wasn't that hard to overcome if you had to do it. Davis' news had shaken me though. I realized right then that if I saw Jason Bowman again, I wouldn't know what the fuck to say. One thing came to mind: that little thing where I had gotten pregnant that night we had had sex, and he had a son that he had never met, but I couldn't tell him that. If I saw him again, I would probably have to, but I hoped Davis was wrong. I wasn't ready to say anything to Jason. I had changed a lot since we had last seen each other, and maybe he had too, but nobody knew who Damien's father was but me and my mother. Letting something like that out would change everything, and I wasn't ready for another upheaval.
He probably wouldn't show up, I thought to myself. Even if he did, what would a visit from him have to do with me? It was Davis he was interested in. The thought haunted me throughout the day till the rhythm of work pushed it out for more important things. How much was he worrying about me? What did I have to gain wasting time thinking about everything that probably wasn't going to happen? By the time my day was up, the thoughts had completely left my mind. The ride home with Damien ended up going smoothly. At work, I had gone down to the daycare a few times to see him. Whatever had been bothering him seemed to have passed. He was his content, quiet self when we got home.
After nursing him, I cuddled him on the couch, watching a Christmas movie. I still had to get used to the idea of a sixty-degree Christmas with palm trees, but I had done what I could to get into the spirit. It wasn't cold enough for hot cocoa, but watching movies had always been a tradition of mine, one I wanted to share with Damien. I had put up a tree several days ago and wrapped presents for him. Presents he couldn't open himself and a tree he didn't care about, but that wasn't the point. I wanted to give him everything, as full a life as it would be possible for him to have. It wasn't just for him, it was for me too. There were times motherhood was hard and unforgiving, but then there were those moments of calm where I could enjoy my baby and for however long, not be worried or stressed, just happy.
Optimistic that we wouldn't have a repeat of last night after his turnaround, I played soft music while giving him a bath and put him to sleep. I lived in a two-bedroom apartment, and he had moved into his nursery just a few weeks before. Since he didn't need me as much during the night, he didn't need to sleep in the bassinet in my room. Not to mention the fact that he had outgrown it anyway and needed his crib. The owl-shaped sound machine on his dresser doubled as a nightlight. I would turn the soft white noise off when I came to check on him before I went to sleep. I touched his pillowy cheek softly before walking out of his room to my own.
Even when it was hard, and I didn't know how I could wake up and do it again the next day, I was happy. I was fulfilled in ways I hadn't realized I had wanted to be fulfilled. My beautiful baby who had entered my life against the odds was healthy, I worked in a stable job that supported my parenthood, and I felt like I was doing pretty well with the whole thing. I ate a quick dinner and expressed some milk before heading into my bathroom for a shower.
I washed and blow-dried my hair so we didn't have another disaster the next morning. Going to check on Damien, I watched him sleeping for a few moments, wishing I could be as blissful as he was. I wanted to protect him as much as I could. Our life wasn't perfect, but I was willing to do anything to make sure he was happy, supported, and protected.
But what about Jason, I thought unwillingly.
I didn't want to think about it but alone at night on my way to bed with nothing to divert my attention, the thoughts came relentlessly. If he showed up, there was a chance we would end up seeing each other. If we did and that led to him finding out about Damien, I wouldn't be able to protect him anymore. Would he even want a part in Damien's life? I didn't know whether it would be worse if he did or didn't. Whatever happened, everything would change. On the one hand, Damien could have two addresses, two last names, two parents who did
n't love each other. On the other, he could have to live knowing that his father wasn't interested in playing that role in his life. I couldn't guarantee anything for Damien but my own unconditional love. Our little life would change eventually, but I had a feeling that any change that came in the form of Jason Bowman wouldn't be good.
My nerves fought with my exhaustion till the fatigue finally won out. I had gotten this far already. Whatever happened tomorrow, I was sure that I'd be able to handle it.
Chapter Nine
Jason
What the fuck was taking so long, I wondered, standing in baggage claim. I knew I shouldn't have checked my bag. I had just gotten off a red-eye. All I wanted was a shower and room service this early in the morning. It was bad enough that this was L.A., where I was practically guaranteed hours in traffic before I could even get to the hotel. I sighed with relief when the carousel finally started moving.
I hadn't packed that much, just enough for a few days because I wasn't sure how long I'd be staying. If all I had actually wanted to do was go to KJLA’s studio and catch up with Davis, then I wouldn't have needed to check a bag at all. I had told him that I wanted to come out here and scope out my competition. We were... not so much friends, but we were familiar. He was always on my radar, but I wasn't exactly sending him Christmas cards. He had taken the email pretty well, better than I would have if the roles had been reversed. Honestly, his studio and what he was up to weren't all that interesting to me. Shelby just happened to work with him, and I had no qualms about going through him to get to her.
I saw my bag coming along the carousel and went impatiently over to grab it. I didn't want to start regretting the trip before I had even left the airport.
"You go."
"No, you go. You're the one who wanted to say hi."
"I can't just go over there."
I kept my eyes down, grabbing my bag and walking away. People tended to leave you alone when you looked busy enough. Normal people, I mean. A lot more didn't care. There was just something about being able to see me so often on TV every day that meant they felt like we were cool or something. I took my phone out to get a taxi. That was all I wanted to do: get out of here. Somewhere, there was a cup of coffee with my name on it.
"Uhm... excuse me," I heard from next to me. I slowly looked over at the woman who had said it. She was young, maybe early twenties, with her hair in a ponytail which made her seem younger. She was with another girl, and they both had this look on their faces, like shy children who were afraid to ask for something: the women I had heard talking earlier.
"We're huge fans," the second one said.
"We totally love your work," the first one said. I tried to not show my annoyance on my face. The way one talked then the other subbed in for her, it was like they were operating just one brain between them. Still. They had paid me a compliment. Sometimes, that was all people wanted to do, just tell you to your face that they liked your work and be on their way. Both the girls were wearing tiny denim shorts; that was winter in L.A. for you.
"Thanks," I said, shooting them a polite smile.
"Could we please get a picture?" the first one asked. The years in front of the camera reporting had given me pretty good control of my face so the girls couldn't see that that was the last thing I wanted to do at the airport after a cross-country flight. On one level, I understood that seeing me on the television all the time made people think I was familiar with them. I didn't see why they thought that translated into real life. It wasn't fair to judge a book by its cover, but generally, people presented themselves in the way that they wanted to be perceived. The girl and her friend looked like they kept up with current events, but like the kind that involved the Kardashians and whichever fake celebrity marriage was ending. I didn't think they would know where the hell Syria even was if I asked them, which you know, would make sense because they didn't really strike me as people who would care.
Not everyone watched their news on the television anymore. We got hundreds of thousands of hits from the video and article updates that we would post online. Maintaining an online presence was basically required, and that was where a lot of the people who generally didn't give a fuck about real news found out who you were.
"Sorry, ladies. Running late," I said apologetically.
"It'll only take one second," the first one insisted. I sighed, looking around. I was going to be waiting around five or ten minutes for my ride. Mostly, I just didn't want to deal with this shit today. It didn't happen that often back in New York; the people in the city were generally more hostile and the culture towards celebrities a little different. I conceded since they were right: it did only end up taking a second. They left, giggling as I waited for my cab. I cursed, slipping my leather jacket off. I had needed it in New York and on the plane, but I hadn't been ready for how warm it stayed in this city.
As a rule, I never flew coach and refused to feel bad about it. I had gotten to a place in my life and career where things that felt like splurging to a lot of other people were common to me. I had worked hard; I deserved it. Now that I was in L.A., everything was starting to feel a little surreal. I hadn't even so much as sent Shelby a text message since the last night I had seen her.
"Waiting for a cab?" I heard someone ask. It was a woman's voice. I looked over and saw three young women standing with bags of various sizes. We had been on the same flight. One of them had pink dyed hair; I vaguely remembered seeing them boarding. It had been a girl with black hair who had spoken to me; the third one was a brunette with glasses. I pegged them for about college age but maybe slightly younger. It was hard to tell sometimes.
"Yep," I said, simply.
"What brings you to L.A.?" she asked.
"Work," I said dismissively.
"How long will you be in the city?"
"Not very," I said. They weren't taking the hint. Where the hell was my cab? I didn't want to be having this conversation. I didn't want to talk to these girls and make them think I was interested. They weren't just being friendly. After a red-eye flight and in the airport at the crack of dawn? They wanted something.
"If you need anything while you're here, you know, anyone to show you around, show you where all the good spots are, we could definitely help."
"We'd love to help," the pink haired one added.
"Thanks," I said drily, "I'll keep that in mind."
"You should probably take our numbers," the dark-haired one said, realizing I wasn't going to ask for them myself. "Or just mine." They weren't even going to pretend that they weren't coming on to me? Good. I didn't want to pretend that I was interested. I had to hand it to Shelby. I hadn't seen her in a year, and here I was turning down other women because I wanted to see her. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since that night at the party last year. The sex had been incredible, sure, but it hadn't been just that. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about what would have happened if she had stayed in New York. Then I had heard about the baby and... I just had to see her, finally get some closure on this whole thing.
"Sorry, ladies," I said, shrugging. "Don't know when I'd be able to fit you in." I saw my cab roll up, finally. They tried to say I should take their numbers for the next time I was in town but I turned them down. I wasn't looking, and even if I was, they weren't who I was looking for. The trip to my hotel took just over an hour. I didn't stay long. I wanted to make it to the station early. Davis had told me to drop by whenever I had the time, so I was taking him up on that. I got coffee on the way there instead of waiting for room service at the hotel as I had a shower and changed. I called Davis when I got to the station to let him know that I had gotten there. He told me what floor to go up to and said he'd meet me.
It was early; I was hoping early enough that Shelby hadn't gotten here yet. I wanted to get a jump on her. I was on her turf here so she'd have the upper hand and I didn't want that. I could already see how it would play out. Shelby would be mad because she was always mad at me, no matter what I
did. In my defense, this was the only way I could think of getting to her. The fact that I had had to hear about her from another person said exactly how much she wanted to do with me. This way, I could get her to listen to me, and she could be sure that I was going to leave her alone after she had told me what I wanted to hear.
I came out of the elevator and looked around. He had been waiting for me. Davis Jacks. He looked... shit, he looked great. Fucking bastard. We had gone to Cornell together. He had always been tall but not athletic. He had fixed that, though. He actually filled out his suit, and he had long since ditched the glasses. He grinned, coming up to me.
"Jason. How long has it been?" he asked, holding his hand out for me to shake.
"Whenever you miss me, Jacks, all you need to do is turn your television on," I said. He laughed a little.
"That email was out of the blue. I have to say, I couldn't imagine why you'd want to come by."
"I was going to be in L.A. anyway; I remembered you lived here and figured why not," I said, shrugging. Davis nodded good-naturedly.
"So? What do you think?" he asked. We talked work, end of year broadcasting, basically every little safe small talk topic we could hit while I tried to figure out how to bring up Shelby. We did have her in common, but the article that I had read about the two of them maybe dating hadn't really been from a reputable source. I couldn't come out the gate asking about Shelby and her kid. I also hadn't come all the way here just to get my intel from other people, so I didn't say anything.
