by Amy Patrick
“Do you have to look so happy?”
“Sorry,” I said. And that was all I said until we reached our destination and Aric had set up the camera on a tripod.
“Do you mind if I knock out my stand-up first? I wrote something in the car.”
“Sure. Whatever,” he said.
I clipped on the microphone, and when Aric indicated he was rolling, I looked into the camera lens and started my countdown as usual. “Three, two, one… It was a case of crossed wires and miscommunication. A girl in love with a guy… accidentally getting engaged to another guy… for about five minutes. Would an apology fix things, or had too much damage been done? We’ll continue to follow this developing story for you and bring you the latest tonight at ten.”
Aric’s head lifted from the viewfinder as the meaning of my words apparently hit him. He wore a look of disbelief as I continued my stand-up. Now I looked directly at his beautiful, confused face instead of at the camera lens.
“Aric… I’m so, so sorry for the way I’ve kept you at a distance, and fought my feelings for you, and hurt you. I realize you sent my reel to Nashville because you want the best for me and because you believe in me. Because you don’t want me to have any regrets. You want me to follow my dreams even if it means sacrificing time with me.” I took a step toward him. “I love you. I think you knew it long before I was ready to admit it. I love you, and I don’t want anyone but you. And if you’ll still have me, I’m asking you to give me another chance to be what I want to be more than anything else… your girlfriend.”
Aric stayed motionless beside the camera, its red record light still on.
My heart thudded painfully. Was it too late? Had I hurt him too deeply?
Suddenly he was in motion, moving toward me. He grabbed my left hand and inspected my bare ring finger. With a hoarse sound he swept me up in a bone-crushing, soul-launching embrace and kissed me in a way that would push our newscast to at least a PG-13 rating if it were ever to make air.
Which it didn’t. Some of the most important stories in life are meant to be seen by only two people.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hire Him
“And that’s all the time we have today. Thanks for joining us for the News at Noon. I’m Heidi Haynes. We’ll see you tonight on Nashville News Two starting at five o’clock. Have a great day.”
After the newscast’s closing music, I gathered my scripts and left the set. It had been a great show with no trace of nausea before, during, or after. I’d left that little issue behind in Mississippi, along with so many other things.
“Hey Heidi—good show.” Chris, one of the studio cameramen, slipped off his headset and gave me a high five.
“Thanks, Chris. You, too.”
When I got back to the newsroom, Kathy, the five p.m. producer, intercepted me. “Ken wants to see you in his office as soon as you get a chance.”
It was amazing how quickly I’d grown accustomed to these new faces. The job was pretty much the same, though the studio and newsroom were much nicer and the staff was three times as large as the staff at WPLM. I’d only been here for five months, but I knew my anchoring and reporting had already improved—enough couldn’t be said for the influence of working with people who were so much better than you. And all my fears of moving to a big city and working in a big market had proved unfounded. I loved it all—the city, my new co-workers, the job.
The only thing missing in my life were the people I loved. I talked to my family often. They’d given me a lovely send-off after the final performance of The Sound of Music. Our house was full of nuns, and children wearing smocks, and friends, and family, and love.
Kenley and I had plans to meet soon in Chattanooga, halfway between Atlanta and Nashville, for a girls’ weekend. Apparently there was some trouble in paradise for her and Mark. Their wedding date was only weeks away, but she was acting awfully strange.
And Mara had accepted a reporting job in Providence, Rhode Island, where she’d grown up. It was the one place she’d always sworn she’d never work, but it was also a news market full of government corruption, severe weather, and apparently a wealth of Irish and Italian himbos. Also, there was some sort of crisis with her mom that played a part in her decision. Whatever reason she’d decided to take the job there, Mara seemed to be in her glory. She was working on a story now that she called a “game changer.”
Aric and I were long-distance dating. God bless the inventor of Facetime. We each made the drive twice a month, meaning we saw each other once a week. It was grueling but worth it. Some Aric was better than no Aric at all. And we had hope—his one-year contract was nearing its end. We would eventually end up in the same market somehow.
I knocked lightly on the open door of my news director’s office. “Hi Ken. You wanted to see me?”
He spun his desk chair around. “Heidi—hi, yes, come on in. Nice noon show.”
“Thanks.” I crossed the room and took a seat in front of his desk. Paused on the monitor behind him was a sports reel. Our main sportscaster had accepted a job with ESPN, and the search was on for his replacement. Naturally I’d picked up the phone and called Aric the minute I heard about the opening.
“I’ve got a reel here from a guy who works in that little market you left in Mississippi. Might even have been the same station.” My boss clicked his mouse and the video started up again. There, in living color, was my beautiful boyfriend. “Aric Serrano. Talented kid. Know him?”
I grinned a secret smile. “Yes. We worked together.”
“Well, after looking at his reel, I’d put him on my short list, but since you worked in the same market, I wanted to ask you what you thought.”
“What do I think?” I paused, trying to contain the hope bubbling through my veins like champagne. I looked at my boss, giving him a confident smile. “I think you should hire him.”
AFTERWORD
I hope you enjoyed reading CHANNEL 20 SOMETHING. Please consider leaving a review at the site where you purchased it or on GoodReads.
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The 20 SOMETHING series continues in Book 2, STILL YOURS. Out September 2014. Book 3, STILL ME, is due in October 2014. Details forthcoming on Amy’s website and in her newsletter.
In Book 2 of the 20 SOMETHING series, STILL YOURS, you’ll experience Mara’s story. Here’s a sneak peek:
STILL YOURS
Twenty-two-year-old Mara Neely knows who she is and what she wants—she’s an ambitious young TV news reporter with a taste for himbos—beautiful dumb guys who don’t even tempt her to get involved past wham-bam-thank you-sir. When she takes a new reporting job in Providence, it’s a great step up career wise, but it’s also a little too close to home… and to him, the only guy who’s ever tempted her to let go and love someone.
To billionaire web entrepreneur Reid Mancini, Mara was like a rare comet— beautiful, exciting, and impossible to hold onto. Now she’s on his television screen and back in his life, and this time, he’s got a surefire plan to catch a star and make her fall.
Read on for the first chapter of STILL YOURS…
They say this is the time of our lives for figuring things out, and I guess that’s true. I have figured out a few things in the year since I graduated from college: pink lipstick looks like clown makeup on TV, the one thing guys can’t resist is a girl who doesn’t want them, and you never truly get over your first love.
It was impossible not to have thoughts of Reid Mancini now that I was back in Rhode Island. In the five years I’d been gone, he’d prove
n he was not someone to be overlooked, taken lightly, or easily left behind.
“Can that Senator Wolfe talk or what?” Sheldon asked across the small pizza parlor table. “Did you see that Mancini dude’s face? Why’d they even ask him to talk at the State House if Wolfe never shut up to let him get a word in?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled, watching my favorite photographer inhale the last few bites of his lunch. I really didn’t want to talk about Reid’s face. Or his body—long and lean and powerful in the perfectly-fitted, obviously expensive suit he’d worn during the legislative hearing this morning.
Our news director had assigned us to do a package on the hearing for the six and eleven p.m. newscasts. Its purpose was to advise the lawmakers about policy changes that might attract more businesses to set up shop in our tiny state, and as one of Rhode Island’s shining stars of industry, Reid had been invited to share his input.
The press releases had started flying fast and furious as soon as the reclusive internet entrepreneur had agreed to speak at the hearing. All four stations in Providence and seemingly every newspaper in the state had responded by sending crews to cover the rare event. A couple of Boston TV crews had made the hour drive, too, just to get a glimpse of the creator of the web’s hottest social media site, StillYours.com.
“I mean, the guy never talks on-camera,” Sheldon continued, making the enthusiastic hand gestures he couldn’t seem to speak without. “That was our best chance at a sound bite. And you know all Rob is gonna want in the package tonight is words of wisdom from the Tech Titan. I’m gonna have to scroll through about two hours of blah blah blah from the senator to get to the good stuff.” He leaned back in his chair, satisfied with his enormous lunch, and wiped his fingers on a paper napkin before balling it up and tossing it onto the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth.
“I can edit it, if you want,” I offered.
“Dude—would you? I have two more shoots today before I could even start editing. That would be awesome.”
“No problem,” I said. The two of us gathered our paper plates and greasy napkins and stood, preparing to leave the mom-and-pop restaurant and get back to work. I snatched the ticket off the table before Sheldon could reach it.
“No, Mara. Come on. I think I owe you, like, four lunches by now.” But he was smiling.
“No. I owe you. Do you have any idea how great it is to go out on stories and not be the reporter and the photog? You make my job easy. Besides, I’m a rich reporter.” I winked at him, and we both laughed at the absurdity of my statement. “And you’ve got a wife and three kids. All I’ve got is me.”
He made another attempt to grab the ticket, which I hid behind my back. “You can get the next one,” I said.
Sheldon sighed and threw his hands up in defeat. “Okay. Thanks. Did I ever mention you’re my favorite reporter?”
“Maybe a couple of times.” I grinned at him. “When your belly was nice and full.”
Sheldon looked up, over my head toward the front of the pizza joint. The smile on his bearded face grew wider. “You are not gonna believe who just walked in.”
I whipped around to see the front door, and all the air left my lungs in an audible whoosh. Reid Mancini. I turned back to Sheldon, my body stiff and suddenly chilled.
He was still looking in Reid’s direction. “I can’t believe a billionaire would come to Uncle Tony’s Pizza for lunch. Shouldn’t he be at, like, Capriccio or something?” he said, referring to a swanky high-dollar restaurant on the river near the city’s financial district.
I scanned the restaurant’s rear wall “Do you think there’s a back door to this place?”
Sheldon finally looked down at me. “Why? We should go talk to Mancini—maybe he’ll give us a sound bite about the hearing. It would be a total scoop. Rob will love us.”
My entire body clenched at the thought of walking over and speaking to Reid. I may have even winced. “I promise you—he won’t talk to us.”
“Yeah, well I know he doesn’t do interviews, but—” Sheldon’s eyes narrowed as he studied my face. “Hey, what’s the deal? You know him?”
I nodded, my lips tight. “We went to high school together. I can’t talk to him, Shel.”
“Okay… so I take it you weren’t friends.” His usually-jovial face contracted into a scowl, and the volume of his voice rose with his suspicion. “Wait—did he do something to you?” Sheldon’s spine straightened and his shoulders went back as he looked behind me again.
I grabbed his arm and whispered. “No. No. Keep it down, okay? I did something to him. And I really don’t want to see him any closer than from across the chamber of the State House.”
Now Sheldon’s face relaxed into his usual easy smile. “Oh, I get it. You broke his heart, didn’t you?” His tone took on a tint of admiration. “My little Mara—melts the legendary Ice Man and then leaves him cold.”
“Don’t tell anyone, okay?” I pleaded. “And get me out of here. Maybe if I walk behind you, he won’t see me?”
Sheldon shook his head, beaming. “So you want me to be your blocker? I gotta say I’m surprised to see this side of you. The fearless reporter, afraid to face her high school sweetheart.” At my murderous glare, Sheldon laughed and then pulled me behind his body. “Okay, Chicken Shit. But you can’t hide from him forever. Not in the smallest state in the nation.”
As Sheldon walked toward the front door, I shadowed him, staying close and trying not to step on his heels. I wasn’t sure where Reid had chosen to sit, and I didn’t want to know. I kept my eyes trained on Sheldon’s back like a greyhound after a mechanical rabbit.
“Mara?” A voice from my past, as familiar to me as my own, came from the side, near the service counter.
Crap. He hadn’t taken a table after all, but stood near the counter with a white to-go bag in his hand. And he was looking right at me.
Sheldon stopped. I ran into his wide back then stumbled backward a couple of steps, dropping my purse and reporter notebook. I watched my belongings crash to the floor. Then I looked up again. Oh crap.
There he was, Reid Mancini, right in front of me and far more beautiful than my memory or imagination had been able to grasp. In the five years since we’d last stood face-to-face, he’d changed. He still looked like him, wavy brown hair, Carribean blue eyes you could drown in, tall and athletic in that lean tennis player kind of way. But the years had sculpted intriguing new differences.
The youthful lankiness of his body had been replaced with a broader, thicker masculinity. All the boyish softness of his teenaged face had disappeared and left behind the more angular features of a full-grown man. The beautifully-shaped lips that had long-ago kissed me and driven me crazy were now set in a grim line, matched by the faint lines that whisked out from the sides of his narrowed eyelids as he studied me.
“Hi… Reid,” I wheezed like someone in the middle of an asthma crisis.
“You dropped your…” He motioned toward the assortment of cosmetics and personal items pooled at my feet.
“Yes.” I nodded then finally yanked myself out of shock and into action as he dropped to one knee on the dirty floor of the pizza place in his designer suit. It had probably cost more than I’d earn this year. “No! No—I’ll get it.” I tried to wave him off. “You’ll get yourself … dirty.”
Reid ignored my protests and began to gather my things with his free hand. Oh, those hands. I’d always loved them. I’d studied them for what seemed like hours as a lovesick teenaged girl, running my fingers over the sun-browned skin, so much rougher than mine, admiring the raised veins running across the back and the well-developed muscle between his thumb and pointer finger. Not to mention what he’d done to me with those hands. Crapcrapcrap. Get it together, Mara.
He held the items out to me, and I snatched them with a breathless “Thank you”. Then Reid picked up my notebook and rose to his feet.
“You’re welcome. As you may have heard, I’m not above getting a little dirty when it
’s called for.” He grinned at the reference to his reputation as a ruthless business competitor.
Several social media sites had tried to compete with StillYours.com, and he’d methodically defeated them, driving them out of the lost-love-reunited business one by one. Now his site claimed the distinction of having more than a billion registered users around the world. Apparently, reconnecting with former sweethearts was big business.
Reid did not immediately give the notebook back to me, but glanced down at what I’d written during the hearing. At what I’d written about him.
“Serious, soft-spoken, reserved,” He handed the pad to me with a quiet huff of a laugh. “You forgot cocky, aloof, and arrogant. Isn’t that what they usually write about me?”
“You’re not that arrogant,” I offered, eliciting a bigger grin from him. “I mean… sometimes people misunderstand quietness to mean…” My voice drifted off into awkward silence as I stared at his bemused expression.
“Yes. Well, thank you for the benefit of the doubt, I guess.”
I probably should have offered some sort of glib response, but my mind refused to produce anything other than a sort of confused awe at the reality of being so close to him again.
It was an experience I’d never expected to have. In fact, I had taken great precautions to ensure it would never happen, insisting on staying in during my rare visits home from college, and even asking that Mom fly to see me in Mississippi where I’d worked this past year instead of my coming here, where there was a slight risk of running into Reid at the airport.
As we stared at each other, the silence lengthened uncomfortably until Sheldon, whose existence I’d completely forgotten in the past three minutes, spoke up.
