Chapter Twelve

Beth

Hundreds of people surround me as I head across town to the event center parking lot in almost ninety-degree weather. Kids are screaming, cheering, and laughing. Adults are chasing their children and visiting all the local vendors that came out today. TACM is set up on the outdoor main stage, providing music for everyone, and that’s where I’m headed.

At first glance, everything seems to be running smoothly, just as Maverick and I had planned it. Austin, too, I guess—I mean, he did make that one phone call … I think. And he did drop flyers off to the more popular places around town like I asked him to. Gyms, banks, local stores downtown, and even at the college. I was just as surprised as Maverick when we met at the coffee shop across from the BA yesterday morning to go over final arrangements—also because we were running later after a long night at my place—and saw the ad for the radio station. I feel proud of the work we have done, and although I’d prefer to not work with him at all, I’m relieved that Austin actually did something.

A good part of me wants to let Austin’s father know the lack of commitment his son has had toward this program, but I don’t know Bart Mitchell very well and I’m not sure if he would think I’m tattling to get ahead or looking out for the company’s best interest, which is what it would be. Also, because if people learned I was sleeping with the other boss’s son, I’m not sure that would shout even one good compliment in my direction.

I grab a handheld fan from one of the tables set up through the lot and smile at our ad on the plastic as I wave it in front of my face. I probably should have worn more work-appropriate attire today, seeing as we work for the station hosting the event, but it’s too damn hot. I went with dress shorts, a sleeveless blouse—as always—that won’t stay tucked in, and open-toe wedge sandals instead. My hair is pulled up into a top bun, and even with it out of my way and my lack of clothing, it’s still hot as balls out here.

“Beth,” Maverick calls out my name as he jogs up behind me. Dear lord, this day just got even toastier. Not just from looking at him but because of the way he makes me feel. We’ve been doing whatever it is that we are doing for the past week and I have nothing to complain about. Yes, I’m worried about all the backlash that may come at the end of the program, but I’m trying my best not to let it ruin what I have now. Which is everything I won’t have living in Montana if they don’t choose me. As I’ve said a dozen times before, I’m up against family. You don’t compete with family, yet I am, and not to mention, what the fuck about Maverick already working there? I hope to god that man knows this conversation will come up again. And soon. And no using sex to avoid talking about it anymore either.

Maverick scoops an arm around my waist and then kisses the side of my head. I slink out of his embrace.

“Someone could see you,” I whisper as I keep walking. He keeps pace with me but isn’t fazed by my reaction.

“This place looks pretty damn perfect if I do say so myself,” he says.

“Yes, I do believe we pulled it off. Have you had a chance to contact the station? See if any ratings have gone up within the first hour?”

“No, I figured I’d call in the morning. I’d rather wait to see what a whole afternoon and evening does for them rather than an hour. The numbers will be better for our report.”

He makes a good point. His reasoning also brings me back to the whole “he already works for the company” thing. I don’t know how I missed it before, but now it seems that all of his ideas hint at how much experience he actually has. Of course we shouldn’t be checking numbers every hour. We are assisting to make sure the event runs smoothly, after all.

“I was thinking that tonight, when this is all said and done, I might stop by. Of course—”

“Who in the hell is that?” I ask, cutting him off. I want him to come over, but what I sure as hell do not want are the four fucking half-naked woman surrounding the radio station who are on stage dancing. Not in a family appropriate way either.

I take off at a quicker pace, and I can feel Maverick still keeping up with me.

“There has to be some kind of mix up,” he says.

“We can’t have dancers here. This isn’t part of their marketing plan and these women have nothing to do with the image the station is trying to create. If the owner gets a glimpse of these women, he will think we haven’t been listening to the values he wants this station to represent. Music for the family.”

“We’ll get them off the stage. It’s going to be fine,” he says.

“I really hope your uncle hasn’t arrived yet.”

Maverick skips two steps at a time as we climb up to the stage. I obviously take each step, which only fuels my anger even more that Maverick has reached the shaggy-haired male who is manning the set up. Does Maverick always have to do things better than me?

The young man’s pants hang low and I’m pretty sure he’s wearing two different shoes, clearly not giving a shit about his appearance. His shirt represents TACM’s logo, so at least there is that.

“I’m just doing what they asked me,” he says, holding his hands up. “I normally run the sounds behind the stage, but not today.”

“What I want to know is who told you it was okay to have dancers?” I ask.

“Like I told him,” he points to Maverick, “the email they forwarded to me said to pick them up. I’m just trying to do my job.”

“What email?” Maverick asks at the same time I say, “Show me this email.”

The fact that Maverick is calm, not freaking out the way I am, annoys me. If his job were on the line, he’d be freaking out. If this were his first client, he’d be freaking out. But alas, I am reminded that our experiences here are completely opposite. He’s probably been in this type of situation before and knows exactly how to handle it.

“Here.” The guy hands me his phone. I skim over the parts where his boss replies to the message from MM. Then I see the sender’s name and I surprise the shit out of myself when I don’t immediately start to scream.

“Why in the hell did you send this message?” I thrust the phone in Maverick’s face, demanding an answer.

“I didn’t send anything about this,” he says.

“Um, your name is right here. I think you did.”

“You’re joking, right?” He takes the phone form my hand and looks over the screen. “You should know better than anyone at our office that I did not send this email.”

“Why should I believe you? We’re not even close to being at the same level for this job. You have your secrets and I don’t ask you to reveal them. But the fact you don’t share them with me is all the more reason to doubt you right now.”

“Beth, come on, you know who sent this. He’s the one person who wants both of us to fail more than anything.”

Austin.

The moment he puts the idea in my head, I know he’s right. But I still say the first thing that comes to mind.

“Or it has something to do with why you are here and not working for your dad anymore and you keep using Austin as an excuse.”

All right, so that last part was just me spouting bullshit because I’m mad. Austin handles making himself look bad all on his own.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Speak the devil’s name and he shall appear.

“I’m not sure which one of you made the choice for this, but my father is headed this way right now and I don’t expect that he will be too pleased. This is a family event, after all.” The satisfied tone in Austin’s voice makes me want to vomit.

“Get them off the stage right now,” I tell him. He laughs in my face.

“Austin, just do it,” Maverick says. He sighs, clearly over this game his cousin is trying to play.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Mitchell asks as he steps up to join us.

“I was just saying the same thing, Father. I’m escorting the women off stage this instant since neither of these two have taken the initiative yet.” Austin moves to gather up the girls and then he shows them down the stairs. His father has his back to them now so he isn’t able to catch the sight of Austin placing his hand on one woman’s ass as his head falls back with a laugh. He’s such a pig.

“I’d expected better from the two of you,” he says.

“Sir, it was a complete mix-up,” Maverick begins.

“I don’t want to hear it. All I care about is this running smoothly and our client seeing an improvement in popularity. Let’s hope your little mishap doesn’t cost us this contract.” He eyes Maverick. “You can’t afford to have that happen twice within six months.”

What? Now I really want to know why Maverick is here.

“Yes, sir,” is how Maverick answers. Mr. Mitchell walks away.

“We will catch up later, okay?” he asks, not waiting for my answer before he hurries off after his uncle.

I’m missing a major piece to Maverick’s story and if I’m not careful, his ending could ruin everything I have planned.

Maverick

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

How many times will I find myself in this position before I get my shit together? Austin knows my weaknesses and he’s going to exploit every one of them in any way he can until I don’t have this job. Or any job for that fact.

After the remark my uncle just made, tonight I’ll definitely have to tell Beth the full story. It’s either that or walk away, and that sure as shit isn’t happening. I’d rather her be mad at me, but we have a chance to work it out than to completely step back without ever knowing how things could have been.

I pick up my pace until I’m able to catch up with my uncle.

“Bart,” I call out. He pauses and looks back.

“Maverick, I really did expect much more out of you,” he says.

“I know, sir. There was a mix-up on how those women came to be here. I think Austin hired them.”

He nods. “Yes, I’d agree that makes sense,” he sighs. “I really did hope this opportunity would help him straighten up.”

He lets out another deep breath. I don’t think I need to go into detail on what else his son hasn’t been doing.

“We could always spin this to—”

“That won’t be necessary, Maverick. I don’t believe enough people saw them to make a spectacle about it. I just wish there wasn’t something in the first place.”

“I agree, sir.”

“You know, we all make mistakes, Maverick, and I don’t believe for a minute that your father won’t take you back. But I do see why he sent you here. He wants to make you president, and it would be my pleasure to work alongside you but only if your belief in who this company is and what we represent is clear to you. Like myself with Austin, this is your father’s way of reminding you of that. You’re halfway through it now. Don’t mess it up.”

“Yes, sir,” I say again. Everything he said is right. I don’t want to let my father down.

“And stop calling me sir, Mav. I’m still your uncle.”

We both laugh at that. It’s habit. He’s still my superior when it comes to work. I call my own dad sir at work.

“I can do that,” I tell him.

“Now, it’s a holiday, and as long as nothing else unexpected pops up, I think you and the team earned a break. Enjoy the event.” He pats my shoulder and continues on his way.

I peek back to where I left Beth standing. A part of me is hoping she’s still there, waiting for me. I know she has a ton of questions. Who could blame her? The question I have for myself now is, what the fuck am I going to do? I can tell myself as much as I want that this will all work out, but the truth is, in the end I will lose either my job or Beth.