Lola

 

A WEEK HAD passed since I kicked Grayson out of my apartment, and I’d spent the next several days acting like he didn’t exist. I still felt like shit on the inside, but I was determined not to let it show. I pasted a smile on my face and acted as if everything was right in the world of Lola Abbatelli. It was all for show: teasing with Bob as I headed through the lobby each morning, having lunch with my girls like I always did, offering advice to our lovelorn callers as though my own love life wasn’t an abysmal joke. But if there was one thing I was good at, it was pretending.

I pretended that the stares from everyone on my floor were all in my imagination, like they weren’t all whispering and speculating about what went down between Grayson and me. I pretended that I wasn’t missing him every single second of each passing day. I deserved a freaking Academy Award for the performance I was putting on.

Or so I thought.

Apparently, I hadn’t been holding it together as well as I thought if the looks Sophia and Daphne were shooting me from across the studio were anything to go by. It was like they were on tenterhooks, just waiting for me to explode as the caller on the line droned on and on about her lying, cheating scum of a boyfriend. Truthfully, she hadn’t actually said he was cheating, but I was intuitive like that. I could just tell. And no, it didn’t have anything to do with my own lying, cheating scum of a fake boyfriend that made me think that way. I wasn’t jaded at all.

At all.

I was merely observant.

Ignoring their concerned stares, I leaned back in my swivel chair and squeezed the hell out of the stress ball in my hands as the caller prattled on about how much she loved her loser boyfriend and didn’t want to break up with him. It took everything in me to suppress the desire to roll my eyes.

“Well, Carla, from everything you just told us, I believe the only way for you to know for sure is to come right out and ask him.” Dear, sweet Daphne, always the calm, collected voice of reason.

I kind of hated her in that moment.

“You really think so?” Carla asked.

Daphne opened her mouth to respond but I cut her off. I couldn’t listen idly by while she led the poor girl down a path of heartbreak.

“Actually, Carla, while I typically agree with my co-hosts on most everything, I have to speak up on this. I think you’d be better off kicking this jerk’s ass to the curb.”

“Wh-what?” Carla stuttered.

“What are you doing?” Sophia hissed, covering her mic with her hand and shooting lasers from her eyes.

“Yeah,” I pressed on. I was on a roll. If my two best friends couldn’t speak the truth, then I would. It was up to me to save poor Carla from herself. “Cut your losses and get the hell out of there. It’s for the best, trust me. Just because he hasn’t cheated with this ‘friend’ of his yet doesn’t mean he isn’t going to.” I used finger quotes on the word “friend” because it was bullshit. Men and women were never just friends.

“B-b-but—”

“It’s a scientific fact that men and women can’t be strictly friends—”

“No, it’s not,” Daphne chimed in. “There’s literally no science about that at all.”

“Well there should be,” I continued, ignoring her and Sophia as they glared furiously. “There are only two categories a man and woman can fall into. They’re either having sex, or are about to have sex. From what you’ve said, your boyfriend and this friend he supposedly grew up with fall into the second category. It’s only a matter of time before they’re bumping uglies in the bathroom of a diner while you sit at the table, unsuspectingly sipping on your cappuccino, thinking your life is perfect, only to be stuck with the check because they were taking too long and you got tired of waiting so you stupidly paid for both their meals.”

“That’s… uh… that’s very specific,” Carla muttered through the line.

“Yeah, it is. And I’m telling you now, don’t be that girl. Don’t be the idiot who pays for those two assholes to eat. You’re better than that, Carla.”

The end of my rant was met with total silence from Carla for several seconds as my co-hosts looked on, their jaws hanging open in shock. Finally, Caller Carla began to sputter, “I… this is… I can’t… uh… I’m just… I think I’m… I have to go.”

The line dropped before anyone could say a word, and a bewildered Jerry knocked on the glass to give us the signal to wrap things up.

Sophia went about closing the show, and I took that as my opportunity to bail out of the studio. Unfortunately, Daphne ran out after me, calling my name.

“What on earth was that?” she yelped, catching my arm and pulling me to a stop.

“What are you talking about? I was just giving the caller advice like always.”

Her eyes bugged out. “Sweetheart, that wasn’t advice. That was a freaking train wreck. I think it’s safe to say you’ve officially gone off the deep end.”

I let out an indelicate snort and waved her off. “I’m totally fine. Never been better. All good here.”

Her hand on my elbow slid down and she grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’re not, honey. Sophia and I have given you space to try and work it out on your own, but you’re spiraling. We’re here for you, Lola, whenever you decide to talk to us. But in the meantime, I think I have something that’ll cheer you up.”

She smiled brightly and, using her hold on my hand, began pulling me down the hall in a different direction from my desk.

“What’s going on? I asked. “Where are we going?”

I followed after her as she practically skipped through the corridors before coming to a stop in front of a door with our names on the front of it. Daphne threw the door open with a flourish with an excited “Ta da! It’s our new office! They moved us in here during the show!”

“Isn’t this the shit?” Sophia chirped from her place behind her new desk. “Now we don’t have to whisper when we want to talk shit about our coworkers!”

The room was bigger than Sam’s office. It had been utilized as a small conference space for as long as I’d worked at KTSW, so three desks and all our personal effects fit inside with plenty of room to spare.

“Who did this?” I asked as I set my purse on my desk where all my Harry Potter memorabilia had been neatly organized for me.

“The call came from the big man downstairs.” The three of us looked to where Sam was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a cup of coffee in his hand and a smirk on his face.

“Why would he do that?” I asked. “None of the other program hosts have their own offices.”

Sam’s smirk widened as he slid his eyes in my direction. “Who knew pretending to bang the owner’s son would get you an office instead of a cubicle? You should have posed as his arm candy a long time ago.”

Red coated my vision as I narrowed my eyes into angry slits. I normally would’ve brushed off what was most likely meant to be a harmless comment, but my life had been one long, terrifying roller-coaster ride for the past month — one with all the drops that made it feel like your stomach was lodged in your throat and you were seconds from pissing your pants. So instead of ignoring him, I took personal offense. All it took was that one comment to make me lose the tenuous hold on my sanity that I’d been clinging to.

And just like that, I snapped.

 

 

“THIS FEELS LIKE déjà vu,” Daphne murmured from the corner of her mouth as Grayson, Nolan, and the Human Resources director took their seats.

It was the following morning after I’d temporarily lost my mind, and I found myself sitting at the all-too-familiar conference room table with my best friends on either side of me as I glared at the man across from me. The only silver lining I could think to put on the shit-show that had become my life was the fact that Sam looked like hell. His nose was clearly broken, and two angry purple bruises sat underneath his eyes. I had to find the positive in the situation, because there was no freaking way I was keeping my job after this.

A small, sinister smile pulled at my lips at the sight of those shiners. Serves you right, bastard, I thought as Stephanie from HR cleared her throat. “Lola,” she said on a beleaguered sigh. “You can’t go around punching people in the face.”

“He deserved it.” It certainly wasn’t the most mature response, but sometimes adulating was just too hard. I scowled at Sam, trying my best to melt his stupid face off with my eyes; anything to keep from looking at the man at the head of the table who made my stomach flutter and my heart race.

“Unfortunately, ‘he deserved it’ isn’t an argument that’s going to help your case. Violence in the workplace is strictly prohibited. It’s a breach of contract and grounds for immediate termination.”

“That’s bullshit!” Sophia shouted.

“But he started it!” Daphne cried.

“Now just wait a minute,” Nolan said over everyone else. “We don’t have the full story. Let’s not be hasty.”

“Hasty!” Sam spit. “She punched me in the face and broke my goddamned nose!”

I placed my palms on the table and leaned in, reveling in the way he flinched back from me in fear. “I wouldn’t have punched you if you hadn’t accused me of being Grayson’s whore,” I gritted out through clenched teeth.

“The hell?” Grayson said, speaking for the first time since he sat down.

“I said no such thing!” Sam objected vehemently.

Sophia’s voice was deadpan as she replied, “Well, you certainly alluded to it.”

“You called her a whore?”

The fury laced through Grayson’s words was too big a draw to ignore. I had no choice but to finally look at him, and what I saw was a man just moments away from re-breaking the nose Sam’s doctor had worked to reset.

“I didn’t!” Sam replied, shooting nervous eyes around the table’s occupants. “I swear!”

“Really?” Daphne asked with sarcastic politeness. “Then what exactly did you mean when you said, and I quote, ‘Who knew pretending to bang the owner’s son would get you an office instead of a cubicle?’ Sure sounded like you were calling her a whore to me.”

“I-i-it… but… it was a joke!” Sam sputtered as Grayson’s face started to turn a concerning shade of red.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Nolan place a staying hand on Grayson’s shoulder, preventing his son from leaping over the table and attacking Sam.

“That could be construed as sexual harassment,” Stephanie stated. “That is also a breach of contract, and grounds for immediate termination.”

“Jesus Christ,” Nolan muttered, closing his eyes and rubbing at his temples for several seconds. He finally lowered his hands and asked Stephanie, “Could you give us a minute, please?”

A look of relief flitted across her face as she snapped her notebook closed and scuttled from the room.

Nolan’s scowl returned to Sam and me once the door closed behind Stephanie’s retreating form. “I feel like I’m dealing with teenagers all over again,” he scolded, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty for my part in the immature actions that had transpired.

“Look, this is ridiculous,” he continued. You two have worked together for ten years without a single problem. There has to be a way we can reconcile this situation without losing two of our most important employees. If you can apologize to each other, we can put this behind us, and I’d be willing to look the other way, just this once.”

Neither Sam nor I said a word as we stared, waiting for the other to break first.

“Fine,” Nolan sighed in frustration. “Looks like I have no other choice.”

Panic made my belly clench — or maybe it was the pointy elbow Sophia shoved into my side that did it — but as he began to stand from his seat, I found my mouth dropping open and the apology pouring out. “I’m sorry I punched you in the face,” I blurted, my eyes shooting to Sam.

A feeling of contrition washed over me. He really wasn’t a bad guy. Nolan had been right; we’d worked amicably for ten years, and there were some days I actually thought of him as a friend — when he wasn’t being a douche boss. Things really had gotten out of hand and it was time to put them right. “I shouldn’t have hit you, and I’m sorry.” I chanced a glance at Grayson from the corner of my eye as I continued. “I’ve been having a bad couple of weeks and I took my anger out of you. For that, I apologize.”

“You’re forgiven,” he replied with a defiant tilt of his chin. I kicked him in the shin under the table, causing him to grunt before rolling his eyes in defeat. “And I’m sorry too. I honestly didn’t mean any offense with what I said, but I see now it was a joke made in poor taste. I apologize.”

“See?” Daphne chirped with a tad too much exuberance. “That wasn’t so hard. Now we can all pretend none of this ever happened.”

“Good.” Nolan released a relieved breath and stood up. “I’m glad that’s settled.” He turned to me with what looked like parental concern. “Now Lola. I know you’ve been under a great deal of stress recently—”

“Pfft.” I crossed my arms over my chest indignantly. “That’s an understatement. If it wasn’t for this stupid PR stunt, I’d be just fine.”

Nolan pushed on like I hadn’t spoken. “So I think it would be best if you took the rest of the week off. Take some time for yourself and just decompress.”

My back shot straight and my eyes grew huge. “I don’t need any time off! I’m perfectly fine!” My job had been my life for ten years. It was the only thing I had to keep me even the slightest bit sane.

“You’re a disaster, Lola,” he continued, his words harsh but his tone sympathetic. “You punched your superior in the face, for Christ’s sake. You’re lucky there aren’t greater consequences. This is nonnegotiable. You’ll take the next three days off or I’m calling Stephanie back in here. Is that understood?”

I fell back in my seat with a pout and mumbled a few choice curse words under my breath before finally relenting. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Good,” he sighed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have grownup work to do.” Everyone followed suit and began filing out of the conference room.

I was just two feet from the door when a strong hand gripped me by the elbow and stopped me in place. The door was kicked shut and my back hit the cold wooden surface before I could utter a word in protest. The way he pinned me against the door prevented anyone outside the room from seeing us through the wall of windows, so there was no chance of me waving anyone down for help.

“We need to talk,” Grayson rasped, his low voice so close to my ear it caused a shiver to trickle across my skin.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I tried to jerk my arm from his hold but his fingers tightened, refusing to release me.

“That’s bullshit. You’ve avoided me for a week and a half, and I’m fucking sick of it. We’re clearing this shit up. Now.”

I told myself that the way his green eyes flashed with determination didn’t make my body hot, but it was a total lie. Every nerve ending in my body prickled with awareness at his touch, even as my eyes shot lasers at his stupid, handsome face. “As far as I’m concerned, everything between us was cleared up the moment those pictures of you and Fiona were posted online.”

A masculine growl rumbled from his chest, making my lady parts quiver. “I already told you that wasn’t what you thought it was.”

“And I already told you I don’t care what excuses you make. I know exactly what I saw.”

His face inched closer to mine as he ground out, “Nothing. Happened.”

“I. Don’t. Believe. You,” I returned.

His fingers clenched around my arm spasmodically before he finally released me and took a step back. My body instantly missed his touch and ached to move closer to him, but I wouldn’t allow it. “So that’s it?” he asked bitterly. “You’re done, just like that?”

“Pretty much.” I shrugged, feigning a casual tone even though a little piece of my heart splintered. “For Christ’s sake, Grayson, it was sex. Just move on already. You’re making a bigger deal out of what happened between us than is necessary.”

His nostrils flared slightly and his jaw ticked angrily. “Is that right?”

God, I wanted to touch him, but instead of caving to baser instincts, I kept up the act. “Yep.”

As soon as that one lone syllable slipped from my mouth, he pounced, taking me completely by surprise. His lips crashed against mine in a brutal, claiming kiss. My startled gasp was all the invitation he needed. He dominated the kiss from the very start, demanding and taking with each delicious thrust of his tongue.

And just like that, I was lost. All my reserve vanished and I clung to him, willingly ceding all control as his mouth fed from mine. His guttural groan rumbled through his chest and into mine as our hands grabbed and squeezed and ran over every inch of each other, desperate to touch everywhere we could reach. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. And I knew he felt the same when his hand skated up the inside of my thigh, beneath my skirt, not stopping until he reached the barrier of my soaked panties.

“Christ, Lola,” he grunted as a moan escaped my throat.

My head fell back, thumping against the door, and I gasped as he toyed with me through the scrap of lace. “Gray,” I panted, grinding my hips into his hands, wanting more, needing more.

He trailed open-mouth kisses down the column of my neck and back up, nipping the sensitive skin of my earlobe. “You know,” he whispered into my ear as his fingers continued their teasing ministrations, “I knew you were a coward, but I never took you for a liar.”

What?

His words yanked me back into reality as he removed his hand from between my legs and took two big steps back. My body trembled with unexpected coldness as his callous words finally penetrated my lust-addled brain.

“I’m not a coward,” I snapped, my breath still uneven from everything he’d just put me through.

“You are, Lola. You’re so goddamned scared of what you feel for me that you’ve barricaded yourself behind those fucking walls of yours. Tell me, does it ever get lonely in there?”

That asshole!

“I’m not a coward!” I shouted. “And I’m not the liar here. You are!” I jabbed my finger into his rock-hard chest, indignation having snuffed out all the lingering passion I’d felt just moments ago.

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep better at night.”

Planting my hands on my hips, I tipped my chin up and looked down my nose at his as best I could, seeing as the damn man towered over me. “I will… and it does.”

He shrugged, seemingly unaffected by everything that had just transpired, which only made me even more furious. “Then I guess you’re right,” he said drolly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “There’s really nothing to talk about.”

It appeared that I’d won the battle, but if that were truly the case, why did I feel like suddenly crying?

“Guess there’s not,” I replied, shocked that I was able to pull off sounding so calm and collected when I felt like everything inside of me was being torn to shreds. This was really it. We were well and truly over.

Oh man, that hurts!

I scuttled away from the door as he moved close, reaching for the knob and pulling it open. I needed him to hurry up and leave already so I could run to the ladies’ room, lock myself in a stall, and have a good, long cry. But before he disappeared, he glanced back over his shoulder and said one last thing.

“But I should remind you, our little PR charade is far from over.”

My back snapped straight, my eyes wide as my gaze shot to him. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t think I’d let you off the hook that easily, did you? As far as the media and everyone else are concerned, you’re still very much my girlfriend. I suggest you work on your game face before the gala this weekend. You’ll be attending as my date.”

Gala? Date? What the ever-loving hell?

The click of the door closing behind him echoed as loudly as a gunshot in my head as remembrance dawned. I’d allowed myself to become so carelessly consumed with all things Grayson over the past month that I’d let the most important event of the year slip my mind.

The charity gala at the Seattle Art Museum was one that Bandwidth hosted every year to raise donations for the Wave Foundation. How could I have forgotten? The station had been running commercials advertising it for the past two months.

As hosts of the highest-rated radio show geared toward women, Sophia, Daphne, and I had made it a point to raise as much awareness as possible for the nonprofit that fought to end domestic violence.

The fact that such an important event had slipped my mind just spoke to the tumult that was invading my life.

Each year the three of us held a special event during the gala to increase donations. And this year….

“Fuck,” I hissed. This year we’d agreed to offer ourselves up for a bachelorette auction, promising the highest bidders a personal one-on-one date.

And I was being forced to go with Grayson… as his date… surrounded by the richest, most established people in Washington.

Could my life possibly get any worse?