“Oh, please don’t go there with me. You used to date that woman before she changed teams and wanted to climb the ladder of power. Er, I mean pole.” Travis is right. Ashlynn was the second woman I ever loved and the last one to break my heart. While I play the game on both sides I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust another woman ever again. I’ll just have to suck it up and find a decent man. Hell, the guys in this day and age are sweeter than the women.
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” I grumble, pulling my wine stopper from the bottle I chug a few gulps like my good ol’ college days and put it back in the fridge.
“Wait. Is this interview happening tonight?” Travis asks, probably baffled by how quickly I work. I have a connection at Channel 8 and she was sure to get me on a direct call with Leonardo.
I nod, “Yes, probably within the next fifteen minutes or so.”
“Oh, wow! Well, I’m going to make myself scarce but if you want to do a little sweet talking and see if you can bring your gay bestie over with you, please do let me know.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t make any promises. Baron has been with Channel 8 for over twenty years and he’s their lead traffic man.” I frown, knowing the likelihood Travis can come with me is slim to none.
He pouts, “I know, you’re probably right. I’ll just do my best to avoid the bastard as much as I can.”
“Just do me a favor, Trav. Don’t get fired on my account, okay?” He needs this job more than anything. Trav’s dad is sick back home in Connecticut and he sends money back his way to help with treatments. Losing his job could mean his dad loses his life.
“Alright, well I’ll make myself scarce so no one from Channel 3 tries to ask me what you talked about.”
“You mean you’re getting on Tinder to see who you can meet up with downtown really quick?” I ask with a wink. Much like me Travis hasn’t had luck in the dating scene. He’s dated a few decent guys, but no one to call home about. Honestly, this guy is like my brother. Only, we’re not actually related. As much as I want to get married and have that American dream one day, I know it won’t be the type of life every other girl ever wanted.
I may have grown up in a very rural part of Montana but I always had imagined a woman in a dress next to me, never a guy in a suit. Hell, maybe I’m fucked up for saying I’m off the women train because of Ashlynn . . . but she fucked with my trust in a way that I don’t think will ever be able to be fixed. It makes me not only anxious, but cautious.
“Oh, don’t talk to me like that. You’re just jealous.” He teases, walking toward the door but stops abruptly, “Oh, honey. You might wanna change your blouse. Dribbled a little bit of wine on there.”
I glance down for a split second and Travis isn’t fucking with me. “Thank you!” I say, rushing over to my bedroom door and run inside, discarding my blouse on the floor and slide another one on. I have a medium length pencil skirt with an emerald green blouse that has a cute little bow just below my collar. I’ve made sure to curl my purple hair in a fashionable yet sophisticated way and place pearl earrings in my ears to give a classy touch. I may be Izzy to Travis, but to all of Las Vegas I’m Elizabeth Ashers, top meteorologist. Now I’m about to share the truth behind why I was fired and the people will know who is to blame.
Boy, vengeance has never tasted so sweet.
The moment I shut my bedroom door and go over to the coffee table to take one more glance over how the apartment looks my doorbell rings. There’s only one person it could be, so I waltz up with the confidence of a lion and open it, smiling as I do. “Leonardo, it’s a pleasure. Please do come in.”
The man may only be in his mid to late forties, but somehow you can retire when you’ve reached his status. He’s a legend around here, leaving three networks before starting his own with the backing of his investors. He worked as the sole news correspondent for three years before they allowed him to hire anyone else. Basically, Channel 8 only exists because of his brand and market strategies.
“Why thank you Miss Ashers, the pleasure is all mine.” He replies with a southern twang. Shoot, this man is easy on the eyes even at his age. Now I understand why Travis made the remark from earlier.
I take a peek behind him and realize there aren’t any cameramen with him. “Where’s your crew? I know you said one-on-one but I figured you’d have at least two people along with you.”
Leonardo smirks, “Oh no. I prefer to do these interviews privately. If there are too many people around the experience is too stuffy in my opinion.” He sits his bags down on the floor and opens two of them. I watch from where I stand and see he has two cameras with lighting equipment.
“Pick a place to set up and I’ll make us some coffee. How do you prefer yours?”
“Creamy and sweet, thank you.” The way he answers causes me to think it was a flirt at first but I quickly disregard it. The man is only giving me the answer I asked for. I go into the kitchen and take two k-cups from my cabinet, deciding on the Columbian roast before putting them in one by one. I make both cups of coffee the same but add a shot of sugar-free syrup in mine. I just need the touch of sweetness.
By the time I turn back and walk into my open concept living room Leonardo has the lights set up as well as the tripods with the cameras turned on. “I’m pretty certain you know how to hook up a microphone,” He teases, handing it off to me. I clip it on the top of my blouse just below my collar bone and make sure the wireless system is working. I see a green light flashing on the transponder and know it’s good to go.
“Are you ready?” I ask, picking my coffee up I take a sip to settle my nerves. What Leonardo doesn’t know is how I put a shot of Baileys in here to give me some liquid courage. I’m normally the woman telling the city about the next weather pattern or what to expect for their holiday weekend. Never have I been on the opposite end of the chair.
“I sure am. So, let’s get started. Shall we?” He asks, taking a seat in the armchair across from me.
I nod, sitting down on the couch where I’m positioned directly across from him. “Sure.”
“Firstly, I want to apologize for the traumatic experience you’ve gone through over the last few days Miss Ashers. I can imagine it’s been a difficult experience for you. Would you mind discussing it, or I should ask, can you discuss it?”
“Smart question, Leonardo. Thank you for your kind words, and yes I can discuss this.”
Before I even finish Leonardo has shot out another question, proving how talented he was back in the day and still is. “What exactly is this?”
“This morning I was fired from Channel 3, otherwise known as WGEC.”
Leonardo draws his brows together, crossing a leg as he cranes his neck. “I’m sorry. I can’t fathom how a woman with your professionalism could get fired from a position. You’ve had rave reviews through every HR review you supplied to me, viewers continue to speak volumes about you, and you volunteer at the local homeless shelter working with those who need it most. How exactly does a woman like you get fired from a job?”
I raise my brows, planting my facial expression so viewers can see how pissed I am. “Simple, my hair.”
“Your hair?” Leonardo chuckles, “I’m sorry. It was rude of me to laugh. Is that a joke?”
“I want to say I wish it was, but I really don’t want to be in a place where I’m not wanted, appreciated or valued.”
“How can they fire you for your hair? In my opinion it’s pretty blasphemous in this day and age. Don’t you agree?” Leonardo asks, leaning to the right in his chair.
“I would have to share the same opinion. Why would it matter if I have violet hair? As long as I conduct my job in a professional way it shouldn’t matter.”
“Of course. The thing is this sort of discrimination is active in many industries, even though we’re at this point. Correct?”
I pick up my coffee mug, nod and take a sip. “Yes, but you’re missing one thing. It’s not just about hair. This can go down into tatt
oos as well, and don’t even get me started on race issues. Let me ask you this Leonardo, do you know the percentage of unemployed Caucasian Americans at this time?”
Leonardo shakes his head, “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“In the age group of twenty to twenty-five years of age it’s a little under six percent, at five-point-eight. What about Asians?”
He shakes his head again, “No, but please enlighten me.”
“Six-point-six percent,”
“Wow, almost an entire percentage.”
“That’s not even the shocking part of this. Latinos are at six-point-four where African Americans come in at ten-point-seven.”
“Ten-point-seven?”
“Yes, and this is my point. Regardless if it’s my hair, if I have tattoos or whatever other disgusting reason corporations want to come up with, other people are suffering from the same type of discrimination. Now, I don’t have an ounce of melanin in my skin and I’ll be the first to admit that but it doesn’t mean I won’t stand up for what’s right. I wanted to have this interview with you because not only are you bi-racial, but this discrimination needs to stop. I have the luxury of changing my hair, but some people don’t. They can’t change the color of their skin, and it infuriates me to my core when it comes to these statistics. For the first time in my life I was discriminated against for something that’s a part of me, and imagining the type of pain others go through every day has made me want to use my presence in this community to speak up about it,” I look directly at the camera, “Discrimination is something that the citizens of Las Vegas will not support. Whether it’s eye color, hair color or style, tattoos or the color of your skin. We will stand together as a united front and make sure this doesn’t continue to happen.”
“How exactly are you doing that Miss Ashers?” Leonardo asks.
“I’m glad you asked, Leonardo. I’ve created a movement called ‘We Stand with You’.”
“Wow. A powerful statement in so few words.”
“Exactly. The point is we stand with each other and we will make a difference.”
Leonardo smiles, “I can’t wait to see the change you’re spear heading, Miss Ashers. Now, is there anything else you’d like to add before we finish up?”
“Yes, to anyone watching right now. Please know you’re not alone. You have an entire army behind you. If you’ve experienced discrimination in any way please go to our website and submit an anonymous tip. Our organization will contact the place you’ve accused and speak with them to educate them and bring change.”
“Well I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors Elizabeth. Now, this may be a bit informal of me but considering you’re out of a job I’d love to offer you a full-time position at Channel 8. We need more positive people like you in this world and the network would beam with your presence.” Why in the world is he asking me this when I already signed the contract? Is it for views? Ugh, probably.
“Send me a contract and I’ll be sure to look it over,” I laugh, teasing.
Leonardo rises from his chair and goes over to shut both of the cameras off. In the meantime I unclip my microphone and put it in the small case with the transponder. This morning when I left Martin’s office I was a woman on a mission. Now I’m fueled from the hatred of others and can’t wait to make a positive difference.
4
Just because you let them in, that doesn’t mean you are to blame when the monsters come for you in the darkness.
~ Jessica Katoff
Izzy
“You have anything else to drink in here?” Leonardo asks as he zips up the last of his lights inside his bags.
“Sure. What’re you in the mood for?”
“After what we just went over, a whiskey but I doubt you’re the type who drinks whiskey.”
I place my hand on my hip, ready to prove this guy wrong. “Oh yeah, and what type of woman is the type who drinks strong liquor?”
He cocks a brow, attempting to hide a smirk. “Women who’ve been through some shit. You don’t look like you’ve had much happen in life. Hell, look at you. In one day you were fired from a news station and hired by their top competitor and rival. You even decided on a whim to launch this charity and be a voice for people who don’t have much of one. From my perspective Miss Ashers, you haven’t had to struggle for much.”
Rolling my eyes I head into my kitchen and open the cabinet tucked on the right of the fridge. It’s where I hide all my strong liquor. I scan over the shelves and pick up my prized possession. My friend Rachelle sent me this whiskey a couple weeks ago. We met in college and she went down the business route, deciding to invest her time and money in opening up a distillery. Placing my hand on the bottle I pull it free and turn back toward Leonardo, who raises his brows in an amazed way.
“I hate admitting when I’m wrong. Looks like you’re full of surprises.”
“That I am. Might as well crack open a drink and celebrate the dig you took at Martin, plus my new job and charity. You know, as long as we can keep it off the record. Don’t need HR thinking you’re giving me preferential treatment.”
“Of course not.” Leonardo replies, taking a seat at my island.
I crack open the bottle, set it on the edge of the island and grab two glasses from the counter that I use for mixed drinks. “Do you like yours on the rocks or straight?”
“Either is fine,” Leonardo states.
I press the glasses against the ice dispenser and fill them about half-way through. Whenever I drink alcohol I want it to be cold going in, but burn going down. Placing them on the counter I fill them up giving us both a decent serving, but not enough to make either of us drunk.
Over the next half an hour Leonardo and I chat about the details of my job that we weren’t able to go through earlier this afternoon when he officially gave me the job in his office, even going into how I can use my platform working for Channel 8 to help the amazing cause I’ve launched. He gives me a few great ideas, mentioning how the channel can be a sponsor for two events a year to help raise money and offer support in that sense. Although, he threw me off guard when he asked what the money would be used for. I hadn’t really thought about it, but it’s pretty simple. The individuals who are affected by this nonsense are going to need help in daily things like food for their families while they try to find a new job, or to fight the corporations that wronged them with the funds for a lawyer. It will vary on a case-by-case scenario but I’m determined to help in whatever way I can.
Before I know it, we’re both two and a half drinks in. “It’s getting late. Do you want me to call you an Uber home?” I suggest. I start working for Channel 8 on Monday and want to come in with a clean slate. If anyone were to know Leonardo was over at my apartment and we discussed business tactics I’d have a reputation like Ashlynn, or worse.
Leonardo leans in closer to me, looks into my eyes with his amber-colored ones as his voice comes out in a rugged tone. “You don’t really want me to leave you right now, Elizabeth. I think we both know that.”
I’m not a naïve or a dumb woman whatsoever, so I understand what Leonardo is insinuating. If he wasn’t my boss, maybe we’d remember this night for years to come. However, he’s now my boss and it’ll never happen. I have lines I won’t ever pass.
I sit up a little straighter, clear my throat and tell Leonardo the truth. “If I didn’t work for you things might be different, but I do. I won’t apologize for having this limit because it needs to be here, drawn in the sand right where it is. I can be your employee, a business colleague and a friend but I can’t be more than that.”
Leonardo is quiet for a few moments as awkward silence fills the air. He takes his right hand and places it on the base of my throat, sucking in his bottom lip. I thought he was going to choke me for a split second, but nothing about his move is physically abusive. “Shit, Elizabeth. I thought you’d understand what working for a man like me really means. You’re not a dumb woman after all.”
“What are
you saying?” I question, even though I do understand. I thought Leonardo wouldn’t be like so many corporate businessmen who wear these fancy suits, but I’m wrong.
His hand lingers down from my neck to the bow on my blouse and he tugs it, allowing the fabric to fall. It gives him a good look at my cleavage and I focus on the way he’s fixated on my bosom area. “I haven’t sent your contract to my HR department yet, Elizabeth. As far as they’re concerned you and I discussed the possibility of working for my network.”
“But you just offered me the job when you filmed.” I clearly state, challenging him.
He chuckles in a low, sadistic manner. “That I did, Elizabeth. That I did. But here’s the thing, I can cut that from the footage and no one will ever know. Not only will I cut that and rip up the contract you didn’t sign earlier, but I won’t offer you one dime of support to help your cause,” I see what he’s doing, setting me up to make me appear like I’m a crazy woman. What a disgusting pig. “So, tell me Miss Ashers . . . what’s more important to you? Having a job and making a difference in the world, or being an unemployed victim like everyone else you’re attempting to help?”
I stand up, screeching the iron of my barstool against my wood floor. A million thoughts run through my mind. I can either tell this guy to fuck off, lose my new job and immediate sponsorship for my charity. Ultimately, I’d end up relying on my mother to loan me money, pay my rent and all the other things that would mark me as a failure. Or I could . . .
“This would be a one-time thing, Elizabeth. Think about your future in television, about the connections I could grant you and tell me you don’t want any of it. Tell me you don’t want to change people’s lives and make a name for yourself just like your mother has . . . wait, you won’t tell me that because you don’t want to live your life in her shadow. Isn’t that right?”
Cobra: Reapers MC Book 8 Page 3
