Chapter Ten
Evan
“Heat a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself.”
Henry VIII
As I pulled into town Tuesday afternoon, I slow-rolled past Elizabeth’s house, mainly to rebuild a narrative in my mind that matched reality and not the fiction she’d led me to believe.
I wasn’t ready to see her; I wasn’t sure I ever would be.
But I couldn’t ignore the impact that night had on me, even if it was total bullshit.
I parked in front of Basil’s and popped the trunk to grab my suitcase. Bas opened the door and jogged out to help, but I didn’t have much. Most of my things were in storage.
When he’d offered me his couch for a few days, I’d jumped at the chance. It was such a weight off having a friend here. I shuddered to think how much more difficult this transition would have been in another city.
“How was the drive?” he asked, lifting my backpack from me.
“Long and hard.” I snorted.
“Oh, it’s like that? Straight up with the dick jokes?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m so tired.”
“Come on in. I’ve cooked us some dinner.”
He wouldn’t need to ask me twice. Last month, he’d fed me some kind of stir fry that tasted better than anything I’d ever had in a restaurant. “What are you making?”
“It’s nothing fancy. Just a pasta carbonara.”
“That’s my favorite.”
“I know.” He grinned.
What a guy. “Look at us rooming together again.”
Inside, the dog ran around my legs, jumping up for pets until Basil’s roommate Farrid emerged from his bedroom and said, “Come on, Pepper.” He slid open the patio door and let her out back. “Sorry. She’s excitable.”
“Hey,” I said, reaching out. “We met a few weeks ago.”
He gripped my hand. “Yeah. Hope you don’t mind me coming and going at odd hours.”
Bas said, “Farrid’s a resident at the hospital.”
“I remember.”
Farrid yawned. “But right now, I’m going back to sleep. Make yourself at home.”
Bas drifted back to the kitchen and began setting plates on the counter. I pulled up a stool and watched as he took a casserole out of the oven.
“When do you start?” he asked, as he kneed the door shut.
“I’m going in Thursday to shoot some bumper reels, but I don’t go on air until next week.”
“Oh, wow. Soon.” He divvied up the pasta and then turned to the fridge. “Beer?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
As he cracked open a bottle and handed it over, he asked, “So, have you given any thought about whether you’re going to call Elizabeth?”
I’d started to take a sip and nearly sputtered. “Dude.”
He settled across from me with his own beer dangling from his hand. “Is that a no?”
“I dunno.” I twirled my fork in the noodles. “I’m just so tired of lies.” I took a bite and groaned in satisfaction. “This is delicious.”
He beamed. Cooking hadn’t been his passion back in college, but he’d certainly found his calling.
“Whatever happened with your last job?” He tore off a hunk of garlic bread. “Did your boss ever figure out his wife came onto you and not the other way around?”
I rolled my eyes at the whole reason I’d needed to look for work in the first place. “He’s in denial.” I lifted my bottle. “I’m lucky he didn’t spike my chances in other markets by spreading vicious lies about me.”
“Letting you go wasn’t bad enough?”
“Could’ve been worse.” I took a swig of beer. “Taught me to avoid any situation where I might be accused of inappropriate behavior.”
“I mean, obviously, but that was hardly your fault.”
I didn’t want to talk about it. “So what about you and Chelsea? Did you run into her again?”
“As a matter of fact…”
“Oh?” I leaned in. “Do tell.”
“It’s just that, when I have her attention, I get the feeling she likes me. Any other woman and I’d push a little harder.”
I snorted. “Sorry. That one’s too easy.” Then I couldn’t resist myself. “Like you, Easy Lover.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“But for real, you should probably forget about that one. She seemed like a dead end.”
“Trying to.” He sighed. “So what do you have planned tomorrow?”
I downed the rest of my beer. “I have an appointment to look at some rentals in the morning.”
“Cool. I’ve made some granola bars, and I can set the timer on the coffee clock. I’ll try not to wake you.”
“Careful or I might never leave.”
* * *
Thursday, the resident meteorologist, Bob Laslow, met me with an outstretched hand. “Glad Shelby took me up on my recommendation. I hope you’ll like it here.”
“Are you moving to another market?”
“Retiring.”
“Oh.” It surprised me. He didn’t look much older than fifty-something.
He gave his lower back a pat. “Been fighting this damn slipped disk. Figured it was time to move out near my daughter in Lynchburg.”
I didn’t know whether to congratulate him or offer my condolences. “Well, I hope that works out for you.”
“Let me show you around the equipment.”
We’d gotten through some of the basics when a voice interrupted us. “Hi, Evan.”
One of the women who’d interviewed me hovered in the doorway, a clipboard pressed to her chest. Laura? Laurel?
“Hi.” I straightened, waiting for her to speak.
“Thanks for coming in early. I’m Lauren Bart in case you forgot. I’ll be your news producer.” Her shirt opened distractingly, unbuttoned just low enough to flash a little cleavage. I maintained eye contact. “We have some things to go over still. Could we talk over coffee? Or lunch?”
I hesitated, searching for a tactful reason to turn her down, but she was the producer after all. “Coffee would be great.”
We walked outside together, chatting about my drive from Indiana. When we reached the pedestrian mall, she pulled her jacket around her tighter. “Is it my imagination or is the temperature dropping?”
“There’s a cold front moving in.”
“Oh, right. You oughta know.”
I didn’t point out that anyone with a weather app could see how the next few hours were shaping up, but it was just small talk. My job amounted to small talk.
At the coffee shop, I held the door for her, and as she stepped through, she brushed against me. I stiffened, hoping it wasn’t intentional. Shaking it off, I followed Lauren in, then stopped cold when I discovered Chelsea Abbott working the cash register.
Shit. I figured I’d run into one of them at some point, but I wasn’t prepared. Just seeing Basil’s tormentor brought back memories from that night, when I’d been under the delusion I might build something with her devious best friend.
I turned back toward the door. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for coffee after all.”
“So, lunch?” Lauren smiled coquettishly and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Shit. Was she trying to flirt?
Maybe I’d made a mistake taking this job.
The last thing I needed was office intrigue.
In another context, I might have been interested.
Lauren was pretty, maybe even my type, but I’d stopped appraising women strictly on their looks a long time ago.
I wanted chemistry and conversation. I wanted laughs and connection, to know someone and be known for who I was, not what I looked like.
And definitely not at work.
Interacting with Chelsea suddenly seemed like the lesser of two evils. “I’ll just get some hot tea.”
As the line inched forward, I kept my eyes down, postponing the inevitable. But eventually, I stood in front of the woman who dared Elizabeth to lie to me. The woman Bas was in a twist over, even if he wanted to play it cool.
Chelsea’s eyes popped wide before they narrowed in a kind of scorn that likely mirrored my own, both of us thinking, How dare you reject my best friend?
She shot a glance over at Lauren, lips pressing together as she formed the wrong impression.
Great. It would be easy enough to clear up, but I didn’t owe Chelsea or Elizabeth anything.
She had no right to judge me for cutting things off with her friend.
At least I’d called. At least I’d been honest. Meanwhile, she was stringing Bas along, dribbling out pieces of herself while keeping him at arm’s length. Bas deserved better.
“We’re together,” Lauren said, pulling out her debit card. “I’d like a peppermint mocha with skim milk.”
Chelsea turned her attention to me. I didn’t even want anything, but I’d committed myself to tea. I’d never ordered tea from a coffee shop in my life, so I wasn’t even sure what to say. “Uh, tea.”
She flipped a hand at the list of available options. “Which?”
I shot a cursory glance at the assortment and blurted, “Earl Grey.”
“Are you sure?” She arched a brow. “You seem like someone who likes to sample.”
Her subtext was obvious, but I pretended we were still talking about the tea I wasn’t going to drink. “I’m pretty uncomplicated. I usually stick to one thing at a time. Just don’t tell me it’s Earl Grey when it’s actually”—I scanned the list, ruining my biting rebuke with hesitation—“chamomile.”
I noticed a lemon ginger, and wished I’d asked for that. But I’d committed to Earl Grey and made it my whole personality.
She smirked. “Not my fault if you can’t tell the difference.”
Ouch. Was that how they were excusing Elizabeth’s lies? I was somehow to blame because I believed a baldfaced fiction?
“At least I don’t refuse tea on principle without even trying it.”
Her gaze fell onto the register as she rang us up. “I’ve tried tea. It doesn’t agree with me.”
“Well, it might be an acquired taste. You should give him another try.”
Her head jerked up, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard that right. Bas would kill me for interfering like this. Her lips pursed as she regained her cool. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”
As if our situations were remotely similar. I let her have the last word, and with a shrug, moved along the counter to retrieve my cup of hot water with a tea bag steeping in it. I grabbed a seat while Lauren waited for her coffee.
When she joined me, she grimaced and said, “Is it just me or are the servers getting older? This used to be a temporary job for college kids. Now it’s become some kind of career.”
“I guess the economy’s been pretty terrible, huh?”
She shrugged. “I guess. I mean, is it so hard to get a real job?”
I shook my head, recognizing a similar thought I’d had on encountering Kyan tending bar, but it sounded so much grosser spoken aloud.
So spoiled. No wonder Elizabeth had gone cold on me.
“Maybe. But you never know what someone else has going on. Maybe they’re still in school.
Maybe they’re working here because their other job doesn’t pay enough. ”
She blew on her coffee. “Whatever. I’d rather die than have to work here.”
I snorted. “You’d rather die? Seriously?
” Even though I barely knew Chelsea, and even though I held a residual grudge against her for whatever torture Elizabeth had put me through, I felt defensive of her, as though she were a friend of mine, as though I had a right to be irritated at her, but others hadn’t earned that honor.
“It’s just an expression. Geez.” Her face transformed from petulant to upbeat. “Anyway, I just wanted to take a moment to get to know you better.”
That was the last thing I wanted to do outside of work.
“So, what do you do in your spare time?” she asked.
“Maybe I work at a coffee shop.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.” I pushed my untouched tea away. “I’m sorry. Did you want to talk to me about the job, or—?”
“Right.” Maybe I’d pissed her off enough to make her forget about flirting. “I’ve only recently moved to head producer, so I’m still learning.”
That might explain why she was acting like we were mere coworkers with an even power dynamic. “Is there anything you’d like done differently from how Bob is handling things?”
“No, Bob’s been stalwart.” She opened her phone to a multicolored calendar. “In fact, I’d like you to shadow him on the six and eleven o’clock newscast tonight and tomorrow, then take over starting next Monday.”
“That works.”
“We’ll need to get your promo teasers shot sometime today or tomorrow.”
“Yup. I’ve brought a suit in, just in case.”
“Good. Also, there’s a new girl in the associate producer position you’ll meet later, though...” She frowned. “I’m not sure that’s going to work out longterm.”
I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable hearing HR gossip from her.
She returned to professional mode, running over some of the policies, before she dropped some unsolicited opinions about the anchors and mentioned several extracurricular activities I might be interested in. “You should check out the hiking here.”
“Yeah.” I’d been carrying my side of the conversation with variations of uh-huh or hmmm. I decided to elaborate. “I actually grew up here.”
She tilted her head so her hair fell across her shoulder. “If you’d like, we could get some dinner after the six o’clock. There are some terrific restaurants nearby.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m already meeting someone.”
“Girlfriend?” She said it so smoothly, like honest curiosity, like she didn’t care one way or the other. I wasn’t fooled.
Maybe that’s why I said, “Boyfriend.”
I felt a little guilty for pretending to be someone I wasn’t, especially after my harsh judgment of Elizabeth, but it had the intended effect.
“Ah.” She checked her phone. “I should be getting back. The news won’t write itself.”
And with that, she turned on her full producer mode and walked double speed back to the office.