Lola

THIS IS NOT good. This is so not good. I paced the length of the conference room. Of course the stupid thing had to be all glass. Everything at KTSW was glass. There wasn’t an ounce of privacy anywhere. So I got the luxury of pacing while Sam took his sweet-ass time starting the meeting he demanded we have, everyone in the office watching me with rapt fascination.

Assholes.

“What the hell’s taking him so long?” I grumbled to myself as I chewed on my thumbnail, a nasty habit I’d had since childhood. A quick glance at the clock on the wall showed I’d been stewing for a good thirty minutes. If he was going to make me wait, the least he could’ve done was have some muffins or scones catered in, for Christ’s sake. Was a carafe of coffee asking too much? Really. After the ass chewing I’d received the day before and the late-night e-mail from the boss man himself, demanding an early morning meeting, I’d gotten no sleep whatsoever.

As I continued to pace, I thought back to what had taken place in Sam’s office after I’d been all but forced out of the studio.

“Jesus Christ, Lola! Do you have any idea who that was on the phone?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just continued yelling and gesticulating like a madman. “Of course you don’t! Even you couldn’t be stupid enough to prank call Grayson fucking Lockhart!”

“Uh” — I raised my hand like a child in school — “just saying, it wasn’t really a prank call.”

“Not the time,” Jerry hissed between clenched teeth. I lowered my arm at Sam’s furious glare.

“Look,” I huffed. “It’s not like we could control what that psycho was going to do. If you hadn’t come in and ranted at Jerry, he’d have been able to catch her spouting his name off during the delay. So really” — I shrugged — “this is technically all your fault, if you think about it.”

I’d never seen a look like the one he gave me on another human being’s face before. I was truly afraid he was having an aneurysm and was contemplating calling an ambulance when he closed his eyes and sucked in a long breath.

When Sam opened his mouth again, he spoke slowly, as though he was talking to a four-year-old.

“Grayson Lockhart is the CEO of Bandwidth Communications.”

Uh-oh.

“Son of Nolan Lockhart. The fucking president of the company! For Christ’s sake, Lola! Their name is on the goddamned building!”

“Uh, pretty sure it says Hart Tower outside. Not Lockhart.”

Jerry smacked his forehead as soon as I finished my sentence.

“Hart Tower… owned by Lockhart!”

Oh okay. I got it now.

And shit.

I shot to my feet and threw my arms wide. “Well how the hell was I supposed to know!” I pointed my finger at my red-faced producer. “Jerry’s the one who sent the e-mail this morning! I didn’t even know we were going to do the ‘In the Act’ segment until I was on my way in!”

That’s right, buddy. If I’m going down, I’m taking your ass with me.

A true gentleman would’ve gladly thrown himself under the bus so I didn’t have to push him myself and risk screwing up my manicure. But was Jerry chivalrous like that? Nooooo. Of course not.

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it was,” Sam continued to blather. “Now we need to think about damage control. As it is, it’s going to take an act of God to save both of your jobs. Since Grayson’s name was released during the segment to Lord only knows how many fucking people, he might not be feeling all that gracious.”

“But-but,” I sputtered, then ended with a very eloquent — if I do say so myself — “It’s not my fault!” Because I was super mature like that.

Sam sliced his hand through the air. “Doesn’t matter! Just be prepared to grovel like your life depends on it.”

I groaned at the memory. Groveling was so not my thing. I sucked at it. You know that saying, “Fake it ’til you make it?” Yeah, well, I’d never mastered the art of faking it. Hell, I couldn’t even fake an orgasm believably — just ask Billy Jefferson from my senior year in high school. He’ll tell you. Anytime I had to kiss ass, my face did this weird scrunchie thing that made it look like I’d just sucked on a lemon.

After another five minutes, my heels began to pinch my toes so I decided to sit in the plush chair at the head of the table. Another five minutes passed and worry for my job was pushed from my mind, replaced with boredom so acute I was convinced I just might die from it. So I did what any sane, reasonable woman would do while waiting for her boss to come tear her a new asshole.

I watched YouTube videos on my phone of cats doing funny shit.

I’d kicked my uncomfortable shoes off, propped my feet on the wooden conference table, and settled in for some laughs. I was on my fourth video when the door swung open, followed by a sarcastic “Oh please, Lola, make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything? Grapes? A palm frond, maybe?”

I stood from the chair, my back to the door as I slipped my heels back on. “Well if you hadn’t taken so damn long I wouldn’t ha—” The words died in my throat as I turned around to face Sam and was greeted by… well, more than just Sam.

Sweet merciful hell. I suddenly recalled where I knew the name Grayson Lockhart from. “Venti Americano Grayson!” I shouted, snapping my fingers as those familiar glittering green eyes hit me. “That’s where I know you from! Damn it, that’s been bugging me since yesterday!”

“Venti nonfat, no-whip white mocha Lola,” he spoke in that low, velvety voice. It would’ve been enough to induce shivers had he not been staring at me like he was trying to light me on fire with the powers of his mind.

Well if that was how he was going to play it, I’d just take my ball and go home.

“You two know each other?” another man asked. That was when I realized we had more company. A lot more company. As in Jerry, Sophia, and Daphne — they both waved and gave me supportive smiles — Sam, Carmen from the PR department, and some man in his late fifties to early sixties, if I had to guess by the fit build under his suit and attractive salt-and-pepper hair. Seeing as he had the exact same piercing green eyes and square jaw as Americano Grayson — yup, I’d nicknamed him — I could only venture a guess that the one who’d just spoken was Nolan Lockhart.

“No,” I answered at the same time Grayson said, “We met at Starbucks yesterday before she decided to try and emasculate me for all of Washington and God knows what other states to hear.”

“In my defense,” I spoke unwisely, despite the wide eyes and head shakes I was getting from my girls, “I wasn’t really the one trying to emasculate you. That was all Brooke. And if we’d known she was going to turn out to be a bunny-boiling psycho, we never would’ve let her on the show. I swear!”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. The man had a tendency to do that a lot around me. “Lola, please just… stop talking.” He turned to address the rest of the people standing in the doorway. “Please, everyone, take a seat. My assistant should be down here with coffee and pastries in just a few moments.”

“Now you offer sustenance?” I grumbled to myself. Unfortunately, Grayson was close enough to have heard me and gave me a funny look that caused my cheeks to flush in embarrassment.

I moved to take a seat next to Daphne, only to pause when Grayson spoke up. “Oh no, please, take this one.” He pulled out the chair at the head of the table, the one I’d been so comfortably kicked back in, sans shoes, when he walked into the conference room. I gave an uncomfortable laugh and slid onto the chair. He took the one to my left, his father on his other side, and Sam took the one to my right, next to Carmen.

“Okay, so let’s get started.” He clapped like it was just your typical, everyday budget meeting and not something that could land both Jerry and me on the unemployment line.

I shot a glance at Jerry; poor guy was seriously going to keel over any day now if he didn’t eliminate some stress from his life. I really needed to e-mail his wife about putting him on a heart-healthy diet.

Carmen cleared her throat and shuffled some papers around, the picture of professionalism. “Well, we got the numbers in for the show yesterday after the… unfortunate incident….”

Well played, Carmen. Well played indeed.

“An unfortunate incident that millions were audience to,” Grayson cut in. “I’ll have you know I was approached on the street yesterday and cussed out by a total stranger for leading that, and this is a direct quote, ‘poor mentally unstable girl on.’ It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and the tabloids are having a goddamned field day,” he growled. “I’m being crucified.”

“We understand, sir,” Carmen continued. “And although we understand Mr. Lockhart’s embarrassment due to the… debacle—”

“Debacle?” Lockhart Sr. snapped. “My wife called me, hysterical! She’s terrified that psychopath is going to find him again and murder him in his sleep! I had to give her an Ambien just to get her to calm down last night.”

Yikes. Who knew Brooke was of the Snapped variety of crazy.

“It’s okay, Dad. Just calm down.” Grayson patted his father on the arm. I actually thought it was kind of sweet. “I’ve got a state-of-the-art security system and a privacy fence. There’s no way she’s getting in.”

“Well explain that to your mother after the last time.”

“Uh,” I cut in, “the last time?”

Grayson shot me a murderous look. “That’s not relevant to this discussion.”

“Got it.” I sat back and clamped my lips shut, shooting a “WTF” look in Sophia and Daphne’s direction.

“Yes, well, as I was saying,” Carmen continued, “while we’re all extremely sorry for what transpired yesterday morning, our listenership actually skyrocketed. We’ve had more feedback than ever before, and the interest in Girl Talk seems to be bleeding over into both the midday and evening shows. Now I know it’s probably not what you want to hear, all things considered, but yesterday’s segment took KTSW to a whole new level.”

She slid the papers forward and Nolan scooped them up, his eyes scanning furiously as Grayson leaned over his shoulder and did the same. I looked at Jerry and mouthed “For real?” He nodded, looking a little less red at the good — well, better than expected — news.

“Are these accurate?” Nolan asked Sam.

“They are. And while we understand you’d like us to take action” — he gave me a look and I barely managed to suppress my eye roll — “we think it would be a mistake to release any parties involved with Girl Talk.”

Carmen held up a finger. “But we think we’ve come up with a solution that will placate you both.”

“And what is that?” Grayson asked, leaning back in his chair, one ankle resting on the opposite knee as he propped his chin in his hand. Even in his relaxed state, he still reeked of power… and sex. A lot of sex. Even I couldn’t deny how attractive he was when he was in business-mode. And he wasn’t even my type!

Just then I totally understood why Brooke went all nutty.

“Well, as you know, the show tends to lean towards being more….” Carmen tapped her chin. “How to put this….”

“Anti-male?” Grayson offered snidely.

“That’s not true!” I smacked my palm against the table in outrage.

Sam, Jerry — hell, even Daph and Soph — looked at me with equal expressions of “Bitch, puh-lease.” My indignation quickly melted away and I slumped back. “Well, not totally anti-guy.”

“Anyway,” Carmen continued, ignoring my outburst, “we’re thinking that the best way to get in front of this is for you two to be seen out together. Miss Abbatelli would offer a public apology, and then we’d set it up for you to attend a few events as each others plus one. One of the faces of Girl Talk with the CEO of Bandwidth Communications,” she said like it was a freaking headline. “The speculation around whether you two are together or not will not only boost ratings, but it would also repair any damage your reputation might’ve faced.”

Grayson hummed. He actually hummed! Meanwhile, I thought my head might explode.

“Are you kidding me!?” I shouted. “You actually expect me to parade around Seattle like some playboy’s piece of ass, all so he can look good to the public? You’re out of your mind! My credibility will be shot to hell if our listeners get wind that this is just some PR stunt! Those women call in for honest advice. What kind of hypocrite would I be if I told them to do one thing, then turned around and did something that went against everything I stood for?”

“You’d be the employed kind,” Sam replied dryly.

“Oh, For fu—dge’s sake, he’s not even my type!”

“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Grayson stated, tapping his fingertips on the table. My head shot sideways to gape at him, only to find both him and his father looking way too pleased with themselves.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I harrumphed. “Well I won’t do it. I won’t! I’m fine with a public apology, but I’m not going to be some… some… billionaire’s arm candy! Nope, nuh-uh, not happening.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said with false contrition. “Were you under the impression that this was a request? You’ll do it, or not only will you face termination, but also a lawsuit if Mr. Lockhart feels so inclined.”

I glanced back at Grayson. The bastard was actually smiling as he said, “Oh, I’m looking forward to this.”

I shot to my feet, trying my best to melt the skin off Grayson’s pretty face with my eyes. “Fine,” I ground out. “But let the record show I think this is absolute bullshit!” So much for professionalism.

“So noted,” Sam deadpanned.

I glared at him and crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t see you letting the record show.”

Sam sighed at my ridiculousness and picked up his pen, scribbling on the notepad in front of him as he spoke the words he was writing. “Ms. Abbatelli thinks this is bullshit.” He made a flourish of ending the sentence with a bold period and dropped the pen back down before looking up at me. “Happy now?”

“That’ll do.” Then I pointed at Grayson and threatened, “But if you expect me to play the doting little girlfriend, you’ve got another thing coming, sir.”

I spun around on my gorgeous but painful Manolos and stomped toward the door, giving one last parting shot over my shoulder. “I’m going to make Brooke look like a freaking Disney princess!”

I’d just finished thinking, Ha! That’ll show him, when I suddenly smacked face first into a wall of glass.

“Sonofabitch, that hurt!” I shouted, cupping my nose as I looked to see I was off the mark and missed the door by a good foot.

Most definitely not the exit I had planned.