Jaime
JAIME
My jaw aches as I force yet another smile for the rude as fuck anchor sneering at the coffee I’ve placed in front her. It’s the third one she’s rejected and I swear if she asks for a fourth, she’ll be wearing it.
Roxanne Sawyer is simultaneously the best and worst thing about interning at KBCX. On camera, she’s poised and perfect, and she works damn hard behind the screen, too. She’s fascinating to watch. But she’s such a fucking bitch to everyone, including Derek John, her co-anchor.
Simeon, the other intern, told me they were having an affair last year and it ended badly, so now the tension is unbearable. Personally, I think she’s just rude as hell.
“It’s too cold,” she snips, flicking a hand at the coffee. She doesn’t even turn from her dressing room mirror to address me, instead returning to inspecting her long red nails.
My lips press together as I reach and pick it up. The heat immediately seeps through the cardboard sleeve, causing me to swap hands. If I threw it in her face, she’d get first-degree burns, it’s that hot. “This is the hottest they can make it. Shall I find a thermos for you? Maybe it cooled a few degrees on the walk back.”
Her hazel eyes narrow as they meet mine in the mirror, and she slowly pushes her thick brown hair over her shoulder. “I’m not sure I like your attitude, Janet.”
I honestly don’t mean to, and I try to hold it in, but I laugh. She’s so childish it’s ridiculous. Shaking my head, I head to the open door of her dressing room. “I’ll get you another one.”
And I hope it burns your vicious tongue.
As I walk back out into the hallway, I can practically feel her glare trying to set me on fire, but I just smile and keep on walking.
Everyone else at the station is okay. Even Simeon has started treating more like an ally than a threat, which is nice. Above everything else, I love how busy it is here. There’s no time to stop and think. From the minute I set foot in the building until I drag myself to my car, it’s a hundred miles an hour.
Thanks to Roxanne’s diva tantrum, I’m now late to pick up and deliver the script revisions to Derek’s dressing room, so I decide to get that done before I try to find her a coffee that’s hotter than the sun.
My heels echo down the hallway as I make my way to the producer’s office, and for a brief second, I let my mind wander. Instantly, I regret it. It’s been four days since Zak climbed the goddamn roof of the Hive to sneak into my room, and I haven’t heard from him since.
I know he’s waiting for me, but he’s going to be waiting a long time. There’s no way I can play this game with him. Not while I’m arranging to see Louis when he comes back from Hong Kong. My stomach dips at the thought of my fiancé. I had a lawyer go through the prenup and it’s airtight. It seems Louis was right, it’s not even about me or him. It’s all about the money and a child who hasn’t been born yet.
I mean, what if I don’t want kids? What if one of us is infertile? My chest tightens and I take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. This is exactly why I try not to think about anything other than the internship or my classes.
It was far too easy to lie there in Zak’s arms, breathing him in and forgetting about the world. I smile to myself. He always smells amazing. A rich woodsy smell, laced with the sweetness of chocolate—probably from the M&Ms he’s always inhaling. My eyes close briefly and I take a breath.
It's easy to pretend that I haven’t paid much attention to Zak Aldridge over the last few years, but I’d only be lying to myself. When I’ve attended lacrosse games with the Bees, my attention has always been solely on one player. I’ve watched him around campus, too. Always big, bright smiles, and booming laughter as he hangs out with Sol and Alex. He’s a joker, but he’s also fiercely loyal and kind. I know in my bones he’s a good man.
Whoever ends up with him will be a lucky woman.
I could have told him the truth. I thought about it. It would have been so easy to tell him I’m engaged. But I have no idea how to even begin to explain how I’ve been promised to another man since I was a child. It’s the same reason I haven’t told my friends. They wouldn’t understand. Sure, they all come from places of privilege, but it’s just different. Maybe Alex would get it. I’ve heard his family’s name come up during conversation with my dad sometimes.
Even still, I’m . . . tired. I don’t want to have to face the indignation and horror that would follow the revelation. Maybe it’s cowardly, but it’s so much easier to just slip away after graduation and get married. Apparently, next Christmas.
Swallowing down a groan, I shove all thoughts of men from my mind, and raise my fist to knock on the producer’s door. It opens almost immediately, a black file thrust in my face with so much force, I stumble backwards.
“You’re late.”
I take the file before offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Roxanne had coffee issues.”
Matt, the producer, stares down at me through his thick, black-rimmed glasses, but doesn’t berate me any further, instead huffing through his nose and closing the door again. I blink, already accustomed to his brusque manner, and turn on my heel to head back down the hallway toward Derek’s dressing room.
He and Roxanne will read the script from the teleprompter but, even though it might change between now and when they go live in an hour, Derek likes to run his eye over what they have beforehand.
When I reach his door, I raise my hand to knock, but pause at the sound of Roxanne’s raised voice.
“I can’t stand her! I want her gone!”
My stomach drops, and my breath catches. Please don’t be talking about me.
“Roxy,” Derek soothes. “’s harmless.”
Fuck .
“No. She’s not. She’s after my job. I know she is.”
“She’s a college student, Rox. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
I lower my hand, my heart racing. I should walk away. They could open the door at any second, or someone could come along and find me standing here. But I can’t.
“Well, I’m going to talk to Brad,” she continues. “You didn’t see how rude she was to me just now. There are a million others who’d kill for an internship here. He can find someone else.”
I swallow, panic causing my blood to run cold. I can’t lose this internship. There’s no way I’ll find another one with such short notice. Not to mention, I like it here, and I’m damn good at my job. Surely Brad wouldn’t listen to her? He can’t let me go for laughing at the fact she called me the wrong name just to be petty. Can he?
“Save your breath, Roxy. She’s not going anywhere.”
“What do you mean?”
Yeah, what does he mean? I step closer, glancing up and down the hallway to make sure no one is witnessing my eavesdropping.
“She’s the boss’ son’s fiancée.”
I almost choke on my own saliva.
“What?” Roxanne barks, her outrage matching my own. “Brad has a son?”
“Not Brad. I’m talking big boss. Like, the company who own the station.”
I stagger away from the door, bile rising in my throat. Surely, it’s not true. The Chevaliers don’t own the station. I’d know if they did. I was aware they owned businesses in the States, but I’ve never bothered finding out which ones, because they’re usually product based. Certainly not media companies.
Any interest I had in listening to their conversation has evaporated and I turn, all but running to the nearest restroom. The door slams against the wall as I rush in, exhaling in relief to find the other stalls empty. My lungs are so tight, I can’t breathe, and I place my hands on the counter by the sinks and try to suck in gulps of air.
Is that the reason I got the job? After my interview, I was sure Brad wasn’t going to give it to me. Is this what changed his mind? My eyes burn, and I press my lips together.
This is exactly why I didn’t tell my parents about the internship. I wanted to do this by myself. Now, staring at myself in the mirror, in my black, designer pant suit, my hair up in a stylish chignon, I can’t see anything but a fraud.
Pulling my phone from my pocket with trembling fingers, I type out a message to Lydia, Brad’s secretary and the woman responsible for handling the interns, and tell her I’ve come down with some sort of stomach bug and I’m going home.
For a split second, I worry about losing the internship for being unreliable. Then, I bark a cold laugh. Apparently, that’s not going to happen.
Straightening, I take a breath and hold my head high. Perhaps I didn’t get this internship completely on my own merit, but I know I’m worthy of it. I’ve done the work. I do everything that’s asked of me and more. I’m the best damn intern they have.
Repeating the mantra in my head, I keep my chin held high as I march to the elevators and swipe my pass, pressing the button for the basement parking. I manage to stay that way until I’m settled, hidden, in my car. Then I crumble.
Tears gather in my eyes, and I sniff, trying not to let them fall, because if they do, I won’t be able to stop the disappointment from drowning me.