Chapter 11
HAILEY
Despite going to bed late, I woke up as usual, just a few minutes before my alarm rang at six o’clock.
Running would do me good. The effort of pushing myself for one more mile, then one more block, then finally just one more step had always gotten me so exhausted that in the aftermath, while I drew my breath, I could clearly see the solution to a problem I’d been analyzing for days, sometimes weeks.
Today, I wasn’t lucky enough to get a breakthrough, even though I was breathless by the time I arrived back home. I stood there for a few minutes, just soaking in the warm sun, admiring my house.
The facade was all plastered with red faux bricks, and the interior was an explosion of color—not all of it intentional. While the black furniture contrasted beautifully with the orange carpet, the mix of paint on the walls… was a story for another day.
When I stepped in my shower, sweaty and on shaky legs, I still had Reid on my mind, and I was as torn about everything as ever.
I knew one thing for certain though: the attraction I felt for him wasn’t fading.
If anything, each time I was close to him, the pull grew stronger.
I sighed, rinsing my hair thoroughly, not bothered in the slightest by the fact that I was smiling from ear to ear just thinking about him.
I grabbed my favorite pancakes on the way to work, to reward myself for the arduous run. Most of my coworkers were horrified by my diet, but I loved my carbs and my gluten and most everything else that was considered a mortal sin in Los Angeles.
I’d never been naturally thin, even as a kid. I might be petite, but my ass and thighs had always been on the full side.
Running helped tone my muscles, and that was all I was after.
“Morning, everyone,” I greeted, distributing the pancakes to those who shared my life philosophy and getting glares from the rest. I transcribed Reid’s interview first thing. Editing it took the rest of my morning. Only then did I check my emails.
The first one I opened was from LA Lifestyle.
They were informing me that they would publish Reid’s article in the next issue as long as I sent everything on time.
The deadline was tomorrow. My blood boiled when I reached the end of the email.
On the very last line, they also mentioned “We retain discretion to edit.”
Oh, really? No, they wouldn’t. Not for one of my clients. I knew exactly what that line meant. It was essentially their way of excusing themselves from any libel suits if they defamed someone.
“Editing” usually meant they’d rephrase a few key sentences so they would sound controversial and leave room for interpretation.
Well, hell no.
I retreated to one of the small conference rooms, as I usually did when I knew I was about to have a heated conversation.
“Hailey,” my contact answered. Victor was a reporter in his midforties. “What can I do for you?”
“I just received your email. What’s with that last line?”
“It’s standard practice, you know that.”
“It’s standard practice for field work where you draw conclusions based on snapshots and hearsay, not a one-on-one interview.”
“We’re not going to change anything. It’s just a standard sentence in our email.”
He didn’t think I’d be satisfied with that, did he? I might not have worked in this industry as long as he had, but I had enough life and work experience to know the only promises that mattered were the written ones.
“I’m going to have to ask you to resend that email and specifically say that not one word will be changed or paraphrased.”
“I don’t have time for this,” he snapped.
“Then I’m going to have to give the story to someone else.”
“What? You promised it to me.”
“You also promised to publish it as I send it to you, and you’re going back on your word.”
“You are exasperating.”
I swallowed but didn’t let the insult get to me. Or at least I told myself I didn’t. I’d heard worse from people I worked with, and even from guys I dated who threw in my face that they just couldn’t deal with my type-A personality.
Yes, I wanted things done a certain way. Yes, I had standards. Yes, I didn’t think it was acceptable for anyone to go back on their word in any circumstances.
“You have until five o’clock today to send me the revised email, Victor, or I’m not sending you the interview.”
“You do realize that schmuck needs us more than we need him, right?”
My hackles went up.
“Media outlets are a dime a dozen in this city, Victor. If you won’t publish it, someone else will. You might have a larger user base than others, but everyone’s been waiting for Reid’s side of the story for a while. It will spread fast, with or without your contribution.”
“You’re going to burn bridges with your demands.”
“I’ll end up with the ones worth keeping.”
In truth, I did need a connection at LA Lifestyle.
But a connection who always felt he had the upper hand, the final say, was of no use to my clients.
I needed someone honest, someone I could count on, or there was no point.
Victor said nothing. I could sense the wheels turning in his mind.
To up the ante, I added, “Let me know before five o’clock,” then disconnected the call.
Yeah, make him sweat. He deserved it. I knew Victor. He’d likely already bragged to his bosses that he had this in the bag. He’d lose face if the story got away from him now.
I pushed Victor to the back of my mind and went on about my day. He replied two hours later with the updated terms. I smiled to myself, spinning with my chair a few times.
I sent Reid a message, telling him the LA Lifestyle article was in the bag and that I’d map out the rest of the steps as soon as possible.
I’d just started writing down the goals I had set for myself for April when he responded.
Reid: Sounds like we should get together and discuss the next steps.
I chuckled.
Hailey: Why didn’t I see this coming? There’s no need to meet for this. I’ll email you my ideas and you can give me feedback. I’ll go from there.
Reid: I’d rather hear your ideas in person.
Bossy, was he? Well, I could be just as bossy.
Hailey: Takes up too much time, and you’re not my only client.
Reid: I can change that.
I didn’t get it.
Hailey: What do you mean?
Reid: I can tell your boss that I want you to work exclusively for me.
I stared at the screen of my phone, trying to ignore the goose bumps forming on my arms, the way my breath hitched. How could a simple message affect me so much? How could he already wield so much power over me?
I typed and deleted about five texts before finally pressing Send.
Hailey: I’d like to see you try.
He didn’t reply, and I took that as him admitting defeat.
I breezed through the rest of my tasks until lunch, when I was meeting Val.
I loved having lunch with a fellow Connor.
Friday dinners were awesome, of course, but there were so many people gathered together that I barely had time to interact with each long enough to lure out if they had any trouble, let alone brainstorm ways to solve them.
I couldn’t wait to grill Val, check how she was really doing.
“You keep feeding me,” Val complained when I ordered some more dim sum. We were in one of my favorite Chinese joints.
“You need lots of vitamins. Need to take care of you and my niece or nephew.” I looked at her hopefully. “Do you already know what it will be?”
Val rubbed her belly, chuckling. Her rich brown hair had an unusual glow. In fact, my sister seemed to have an overall glow I hadn’t seen before.
“No, silly. I told you I haven’t had another ultrasound, and the baby wasn’t in a position that allowed us to see the sex last time.”
I narrowed my eyes. “But you wouldn’t keep it from me, right?”
Val averted her gaze. I knew it. I knew it.
“Val, don’t be cruel. I’ve learned to keep secrets. You know I did.”
So my track record wasn’t the best, but I’d gotten so much better lately.
“Can I come with you at the next ultrasound?” I shook my head as soon as I said the words. “No, you’re going with Carter. Can’t intrude.”
“You can come if you want to. He doesn’t mind.”
Hmm… decisions, decisions. On the one hand, I’d love to hear the nugget’s heartbeat. But it was their moment.
“April and Peyton are coming too, so it’s a party anyway,” Val said.
I lit up, so happy about the excuse. So, so happy. “I’m in. You know what they say about parties. The more, the merrier.”
“Now… tell me all about that client who keeps stealing you away on weekends.”
I stared at a piece of half-eaten dim sum. Uh-oh. My secret-keeping abilities were just about to get tested.
“Hm?”
“I know you. You don’t work on weekends anymore. For you to be with a client on a Saturday means… he’s rather special. Which is weird considering you referred to him as a first-class asshole after the first time you met him.”
My sister’s memory always amazed me. No one remembered details more than she did. No one. I’d just said it as a throwaway comment, but that was enough for my sister. I picked up the dim sum carefully, shoving it in my mouth, buying myself time.
Val propped her chin in one palm, scrutinizing me. “You know, I liked it more back when you couldn’t keep a secret .”
Well, as a PR pro, I’d had to hone that skill. I’d succeeded when it came to my professional life.
My personal life was a different story. As usual, I couldn’t do anything halfway. I could either say nothing at all or share every last bit of detail.
And under Val’s intense scrutiny, I caved. Or maybe it was the fact that I wanted my sister’s opinion, her advice.
“He might be more than a client.”
Her eyes widened. “Wait. Let me guess. Hmm… satisfied smile, light blush. You, sister, have been kissed. By someone who’s very good at it.”
“So good,” I admitted, letting myself slip into a daydream for a moment.
“Ooh, wait. Now I want all the details. Sexy times?”
“Not yet.”
“So you’re planning to?”
“Holy shit, I’m actually not.”