Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
SOPHIE
One good thing about working at a regional television station like WVFY is that everybody knows everybody. People have worked here for so long that they’re more like family than colleagues. I always get a warm feeling when I walk through the main doors that lead to the reception area.
One of the bad things, however, is that you don’t always get to choose your family. Or your co-workers for that matter. And I definitely didn’t get to choose Michael Rimmer to be my boss.
He and I went out on a date. Once. We went straight from work to a steak restaurant in the historic district and he proceeded to make a note of everything he ordered, along with the exact cost and what a ten, fifteen, and twenty percent tip would look like.
He got extremely upset when I refused to do the same.
I have no problem with splitting the bill on a date. But let’s just split it fifty-fifty. If you’re itemizing the extra Diet Coke you ordered you’re probably not the man for me.
When he proceeded to tell me that whoever he married would have to accept that he played golf on Saturdays and Sundays without fail and that he would expect them to take care of the kids and visit his mom while he golfed, I noped right out of there.
I’m not sure he’s ever forgiven me for that.
The best thing about him becoming my boss – and maybe the only good thing – is that he gets to decide who does what broadcasts, and he usually nabs the evening one. Which means he comes into work in the afternoon and I only have to put up with him for a couple of hours.
I’ve noticed that Madison is coming in earlier and earlier so she can do the same.
“Hey,” I say, seeing them both in the office as I walk back from the lunchtime news. “You’re early,” I tell Michael, trying to not sound grumpy about it.
Michael lifts a brow. “We have a staff meeting in fifteen minutes.”
Oh yeah. I’d forgotten about that. It’s not a regular meeting. This one is to discuss our annual fundraiser. The WVFY Charity Auction and Ball. It’s the pet project of our owner, Donald Regan, and since it’s happening in two weeks he probably wants an update of where we’re at with all the plans.
Michael’s taking it very seriously this year because he’s been given the role of emcee for the auction. He hasn’t stopped talking about it.
I glance at Madison. “You want to grab some lunch to take into the meeting?” I ask her. At least we can dull the pain with calories.
“Yeah.” She jumps up way too enthusiastically, joining me at my desk as I grab my bag.
“Don’t be late,” Michael warns. “I don’t want the weather department getting a bad reputation.”
“Too late for that,” Madison mutters, low enough for him not to hear.
I bite down a smile. She’s definitely settling in.
We walk to the coffee shop at the front of the building and get in line. Ahead of us I see some of the Sports Desk team having the same idea. Nobody loves an all staff meeting.
“Can I talk to you about something?” Madison says, shifting her feet.
“Sure.”
“Michael wants to put me up for auction.”
I blink. “He wants to what?”
“That’s why he’s in early. Because he wanted to talk to me. He says I’m the youngest and the prettiest so I should represent the weather department. He wants to auction off a dinner date with me.” She frowns. “But I really don’t want to.”
Of course she doesn’t. The urge to punch Michael in the mouth comes over me.
Until Kathleen left, we’d all take turns hosting the lucky winner in the weather department for the day.
Showing them how we forecast, letting them watch us as we do the news, and then setting them up to have a go in front of the green screen.
It was easy, and sometimes fun. But Michael’s been muttering that we don’t have enough time to do that this year. He’s right, thanks to his terrible reorganization.
But to put our intern up for auction? That’s so seedy and ugh.
I know why he’s doing it. Because the news desk always does the same with their female anchor and they raise the most money every year. He’s competitive and he likes to beat all the other departments.
“You don’t have to do it,” I tell her.
“He was really insistent,” she tells me. “Said it would look good on my resume. And that my final report might depend on it.”
“It won’t,” I reassure her. “Leave it to me.”
“What will you do?” She looks up at me, hope in her eyes.
“I’ll do it.”
“You will?”
“Yep.” We reach the front of the line and I nod at Madison to give her order first. I give mine with a controlled voice, because I’m beyond annoyed at Michael.
Not just because it’s sexist as hell in asking our young intern to go on a date with some rich businessman, but also because I’m supposed to be her boss, not him.
I’m the one who does her reports and who will do the final one, too.
To try to bribe her with that stinks.
When our orders are ready, we carry them back to the elevator and take the car to the penthouse where the big meeting room is. We squeeze in next to the sports team, and I smile at Lisa, who’s probably my closest friend here at work.
I’ve known her for ten years. She joined the sports team after she graduated from college. She was a mature student because she spent most of her late teens representing the US in gymnastic competitions, until she broke her neck during a dismount.
It took her a year to recover and she was told she’d never be able to compete again. Where most people would give up, Lisa pulled herself together and decided she wanted to be in sports reporting.
She’s as strong as hell and can give the jocks in the sports department as good as they get. And though we’re mostly work friends, I know she’d be there in a minute if I was in trouble.
And I would be for her, too.
“Look at him,” she says shaking her head. “He thinks he’s the shit.”
I follow her gaze. Michael is sitting at the front next to WVFY’s owner, Donald Regan. His eyes catch mine and I lift my brows at him.
I know your game, sunshine. And I’m going to beat you at it.
“Okay everybody, I think we’re all here,” Donald says. “So let’s get to it. We’re here to go through the arrangements for the charity ball. Our emcee for the night – Michael Rimmer – has kindly agreed to lead the meeting.” He looks at my boss. “Michael, take it away.”
I eat my bagel as Michael talks about the timings and reminds us we all need to wear formal clothes and to be ready to mingle with the guests.
I kind of tune out because it’s the same every year, and let’s face it, I’ve been working here for longer than I care to remember.
It’s only when Madison elbows me in the waist that I blink and pay attention.
Michael talks through the lots that have been donated by our patrons. There are days on a yacht and vacations and artworks being offered. Everybody oohs and ahhs even though they’re way out of our price range.
“And now to the WVFY teams,” Michael says, and Madison shifts uncomfortably next to me. I shoot her a reassuring look.
“The news desk is giving away the chance to present the news, plus lunch with the beautiful Lorena.” Michael smiles widely at her. “And of course the sports team have offered tickets to a college football game plus dinner. Well done. And now to the weather team…”
“I’d like to be the one up for auction,” I call out.
Michael blinks. “It’s okay, we have it covered, don’t we, Madison?”
“Change of plan,” I tell him. “I’ll be doing it.”
One thing about Michael is that he likes to get his own way, but he likes to kiss ass more. So when Donald nods approvingly he clears his throat and makes a note on his pad. “Okay,” he says. “That’s fine. Sophie West will be having dinner with the highest bidder.”
Madison breathes a sigh of relief.
Lisa leans over to me. “You’re really going to let him auction you off for dinner?” She has the same view as me on this. Maybe more so. She’s worked hard to succeed in what’s traditionally been a man’s game and to be auctioned off because she’s a woman feels wrong.
“No,” I tell her. “I’ll think of something else.”
“You don’t have much time. The auction’s next weekend.”
“I’ll come up with something,” I tell her resolutely. There are eight days until the charity ball, even with my stupid workload I should have time to make a plan.
“Good luck,” she whispers as Michael glares over at me. “I think you’ll need it.”
LIAM
I pull my car into Myles’ and Ava’s driveway and park. The lights in the big house are blazing, so I climb out of the driver’s seat and walk up there to let them know I’m home before I head back to the bungalow.
Home. The word makes me smile because this isn’t my home.
And yet there’s a warmth to this house that’s completely missing in my place in New York.
I spent the flight here actually looking forward to seeing my brother and his family.
Looking forward to spending time with my nephew and seeing how he’s changed in the week that I’ve been gone.
I knock on the door and Ava opens it, smiling when she sees me. “How was your flight?” she asks me, stepping to the side to let me in.
“Not too bad.” I lean down to kiss her cheek.
“And New York? Was that good, too?”
I follow her down the hallway to the kitchen, where Charlie’s lying on a blanket watching the television. Well, not actually watching because the kid’s only three months old. But his head is facing in that general direction as some animated dogs sing a tune that kind of makes my ears ache.
“Yep,” I say. “All good.” She doesn’t want to hear the details. Meetings, spreadsheets, complaints, resolutions. I spent the last seven days running my ass off to get everything done.
I really need to duplicate myself.
“Is Myles home yet?” I ask her.
“No. He’s still at the office. You want me to call him?” she asks.
“It’s good. I’ll catch up with him later. I just wanted to let you know I’m back safely in case you see the lights go on in the bungalow.”