Lola

PUSHING THROUGH THE doors of Hart Tower — a large, imposing skyscraper in the heart of downtown Seattle that housed Bandwidth Communications, the company that owned KTSW and their sister stations — I had a smile on my face as I scrolled through the e-mails on my phone and sucked back another sip of my coffee. Most people worked to live, burning eight hours a day behind a desk where they watched the clock and prayed for quitting time. Fortunately, I was one of the lucky few. I got to work with my two best friends doing something I enjoyed the hell out of every single day. Other than a handful of public events, charity functions the station supported, and the occasional promotional photo shoots here and there, I never had to take my work home with me. Bonus: I got paid a shitload of money doling out relationship advice to women at the end of their rope.

I liked to think of what we did as community service. We helped women who refused to help themselves. We gave them the push they needed to shit or get off the pot when it came to relationships that were circling the drain, just waiting to be flushed.

Now don’t get me wrong — we weren’t always against the guy. If a woman was a raging harpy who needed to be told to pull the stick out of her ass and stop being such a cow, we didn’t hesitate. But let’s be honest, the brunt of our calls was from heartbroken women done wrong, not the other way around. If my own personal experience, coupled with watching my jackass of a father stomp on my mom’s heart all my life, wasn’t enough to turn me off commitment, my job certainly was. And before you start thinking I’m one of those raging harpies, rest assured, Sophia and Daphne felt the same way. They both had their own reasons for their anti-relationship stance, but we all agreed on one thing:

Why buy the car when you can take it out for a twenty-four-hour test drive and return it to the lot without the hassle of greasy salesmen and a shitload of paperwork?

Hell, guys did it all the time. And we were nothing if not equal opportunity women in today’s modern society.

“Morning, boys,” I called, shooting a smile to the security guards who manned the front desk in the building lobby.

“Morning, beautiful,” Bob, the oldest and longest-running guard, returned, giving me a cheeky wink. Bob was one of the good ones — the exception to the rule. He was faithful to his wife of thirty years, a dedicated employee who’d been working security in the building for twenty-three years, and a doting father and grandfather who just so happened to be a shameless flirt. “Break any hearts today?”

“It’s only 7:00.” I winked back. “I’m good, but not that good. Give me a little while longer.”

“Usually there’d be a line out the door by now. Must be slacking, girl.”

I turned to look at him over my shoulder as I headed toward my elevator bank, not missing the lustful gazes of the two younger guards zeroed in on my ass as I walked. “Or maybe I’m just waiting for the opportunity to snatch you away from Loretta. Ever think about you? You’re a total catch, Bob.”

He let out a rich, hearty laugh. “Don’t I know it? You have a good day now, sweetheart.”

“You too!” I called back as one of the elevators dinged and I climbed in with the rest of the morning rush. I took one last peek at the desk just in time to catch Bob smacking one of the younger guys in the back of the head. See what I mean? One of the good ones.

My eyes returned to my phone, scanning through the e-mail I’d received earlier that morning from Jerry, our show’s producer. I smiled just as the screen cut off with a text notification.

Sophia: You see what’s on the schedule for today?

My smile grew even wider as I typed back.

Lola: Yep. Getting off the elevator now. Meet you at my desk in three. Bring Daph.

The elevator doors opened and I squeezed through the remaining people, stepping onto the floor for KTSW. I gave Jodi, the receptionist, a wave as I pushed through the glass doors and wound my way through the pods of cubicles before finally coming to my own on the other side of the floor, closest to the studio.

I’d barely had time to drop my purse into my desk drawer and boot up my computer before Sophia and Daphne came scurrying around the corner, equal expressions of “oh hell yeah” written all over their faces.

“Ooh, today’s going to be fun,” Daphne giggled, propping her skirt-clad behind on the edge of my desk as Sophia took the only other chair available in my small work space. “We haven’t done ‘In the Act’ in months!”

“In the Act” was an idea I came up with back in college when the three of us hosted a show for our campus radio station. We carried it over when we came on to do Girl Talk for KTSW. A listener would e-mail us about their spouse or significant other who they suspected was cheating and I would call up the asshole in question, posing as some sort of vendor, offering up everything from flowers to weekend getaways in the hopes of, well, catching them in the act.

Because our entire show was live, we had to be careful not to overdo it. If we called unsuspecting cheaters every single week, offering hotel stays or spa packages for them and one other person, eventually people would start catching on and the ruse wouldn’t work.

The three of us enjoyed the segment, not because we liked ruining relationships and breaking hearts, but because we liked being able to help a woman walk away from a terrible situation she might not have had the strength to if we hadn’t been able to provide definitive proof of the man’s affair.

And, I was willing to admit, it was always a little fun hanging assholes out to dry for everyone to hear. Public humiliation was revenge at its finest, after all.

“Jerry already picked the e-mail,” Sophia said. “Have you had a chance to read through it?”

“I skimmed,” I answered as I brought up my e-mail on my desktop, opening the one I’d been reading on the elevator ride up. “Sounds like your typical dimwit/douchebag scenario,” I stated as I read through the woman’s ranting. “They’ve been dating for a year and a half, no sex in the past six months, late nights at the office and constant business trips….” I kept going until I reached the line that gave me pause. “Wow. He hasn’t even taken her to meet his parents yet? And this chick doesn’t get it yet?” I scoffed. The warning signs were flashing bright red and could be seen from miles away, but she was still holding out hope. It was a little sad, really.

“Probably why Jerry picked the e-mail,” Daphne voiced as she crossed her ankles and began swinging them back and forth. “Honestly, you have to pity the poor girl. From the sounds of it, this entire relationship is one big-ass red flag and she’s too naive to see it.”

“That’s not naivety,” I snorted. “That’s a chick whose head is buried so deep in the sand, it’s going to take a freaking backhoe to get it out.”

Sophia stood and propped her hands on her hips. “Well, if there’s anyone who can shove a dose of reality down someone’s throat it’s you, Lola.” She grinned.

I leaned back in my chair and fiddled with a pen between my fingers. “This is going to be like strapping a pack of C4 to a relationship and lighting the fuse.” I sighed. “I almost feel bad for her.”

Daphne hopped off my desk, giddy with anticipation. “Well, time to get ready for an explosion.”

THE “ON AIR” light clicked on and I leaned closer to the mic. “You’re back with Lola, Sophia, and Daphne.” I spoke clearly and concisely, relishing the high I got every time I reached out to our listening audience. “And you’re listening to Girl Talk on 95.6, KTSW. If you’re just tuning in, we’ve been talking to Brooke, who e-mailed the show because she suspects her boyfriend of a year and a half,” — I looked down at my notes — “Gray, has been cheating on her.”

“Now, Brooke,” Daphne chimed in with a soft voice, the motherly one in our little trio. “Are you sure you’re ready to do this? You know, with everything you’ve told us, there’s a possibility you might not like what you hear.”

“I-I’m ready,” she sobbed through the line. The woman had been inconsolable through almost the entire phone call.

I looked through the glass into the booth at Jerry, getting the thumbs-up just seconds before the sound of a phone ringing cut through our headsets. A moment later a deep, intoxicating voice came on the line.

“Hello?”

If I had to guess, the man the voice belonged to was hot as sin. It would be too cruel a joke for God to give such a rich voice like that to some scrawny, balding accountant type with a belly that hung over his pants. Jeez, just one word and women’s panties all over Washington were probably melting.

“Hi,” I said in a tone that was just seductive enough to catch his attention without risk of sounding slutty. “May I speak with Gray, please?”

“Speaking,” Mr. Sexy-Voiced Gray rumbled. “Who’s calling?”

“My name’s Rebecca. You don’t know me, sir, but I’m the manager of guest relations for” — another quick look at my notes, scanning for the hotel chain Brooke claimed he frequented — “Icon Hotels. I’m calling today because we’re running a new promotion for our reward holders and I see that you’ve stayed at several of our properties throughout the States. Now, I know you’re a busy man,” I added, padding his ego ever so slightly in order to keep him on the line, “so I won’t keep you too long, but as a thank-you for all your loyal business, we’d like to offer you a free weekend stay at our Seattle location for you and one guest, complete with a couples massage and spa package, on the house.”

“Oh, well, that’s very nice, thank you. But I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”

“Are you sure?” I pushed, needing to find an in so I could nail the guy’s balls to the wall. “It really is a lovely spa. I’m sure your wife or girlfriend would enjoy it, and bonus! You get all the credit for being so thoughtful.”

Sophia gave me a thumbs-up, clearly pleased with my improvisation.

I could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. “While I appreciate your quick thinking, sadly, there’s no wife or girlfriend in the picture. But I’m sure there is another rewards member who’d be more than happy to receive such a lovely package.”

No girlfriend? He wouldn’t even claim Brooke to a complete stranger! “What an asshole,” I mouthed to my girls before jerking my index finger across my throat at Sophia, our sign for “finish the fucker off.”

She opened her mouth to jump in just as a loud banshee scream broke through each of our headphones, threatening to burst our ear drums.

“You sorry son of a bitch!” Brooke screamed on the other line. “You piece-of-shit motherfucker!”

“Jesus,” Daphne put her hand over her mic. “Thank God we’re on a ten-second delay. Poor Jerry’s probably sweating bullets trying to beep those out.”

We turned to look in the booth, and sure enough, Jerry’s entire face was red as he hurried to cover every curse word spewing from Brooke’s mouth.

“What the hell!” Gray barked. “What is this?”

“Well, Gray,” Sophie finally joined in, “that wasn’t Rebecca from guest relations. That was Lola, and you’re currently on Girl Talk on 95.6, KTSW. Your girlfriend, Brooke, called in because she had a suspicion that you’ve been cheating on her. And based on your refusal to even admit she’s in the picture, I’d say her concerns are valid, wouldn’t you?”

“Are you fucking kidding!” Gray yelled. “Brooke isn’t my girlfriend! She’s a psychopath I went on one date with a year and a half ago who’s been stalking me ever since! I can’t believe this!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I said into my mic, trying desperately to get a word in edgewise between our two irate callers. “Brooke informed us you’ve been together for over a year. Was that a lie?”

“Of course it was a lie! I have a restraining order on her crazy ass!”

“Who is she, Gray?” Brooke shrieked. “Who the hell is the bitch you’re screwing? I want to know!”

I shot wide eyes at Sophia and Daphne as they both struggled to maintain their composure. All three of us were at risk of bursting into laughter at any moment.

“Brooke,” Daphne spoke over the screaming couple. “Is that true? Have you been stalking him?”

“Well I wouldn’t have to if he’d quit moving and changing his locks!”

“I change them because you’re certifiably insane!” Gray shouted in return. “Brooke, calling a radio station to have them set me up for some sick prank is a violation of the RO! I should have your ass thrown in jail!”

“Wow,” I chuckled before adding sarcastically, “It’s so hard to believe you two didn’t work out.”

Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I glanced toward the booth to see Sam, the station’s programming director, had just barged in, waving his hands at Jerry like a madman.

What the hell?

Jerry’s red face had turned an uncomfortable shade of purple as the two men shouted and waved their hands around in a frenzy. Poor Andrew, our board operator, had attempted to take over covering the bad language, but based on his wide, panicked eyes, I was afraid he might have let a couple F-bombs slip through.

Yay, we get to pay penalties.

“Ladies of Washington State!” Brooke yelled through her phone. “Do not date Grayson Lockhart! He’s a douchebag asshole!”

“Whoa, hey!” Sophia broke into the fold. “No last names, Brooke. Not cool.”

Grayson Lockhart? Where have I heard that name? I needed time to go through my memory bank, but unfortunately, I was too busy trying to settle down the two people on the line who had just gone completely ape-shit to bother with figuring out what was so familiar about that name.

“Grayson Lockhart!” Brooke shouted.

“Have you lost your goddamned mind!” Grayson bellowed.

“GraysonLockhartGraysonLockhartGraysonLockhart!” she screamed over and over again.

I spun back to the booth. Sam was losing his ever-loving mind, and as Jerry shoved Andrew out of the way I knew, I just knew the man on the phone’s full name had managed to slip through the sound waves, delay or not. The “In the Act” segment had just turned into a clusterfuck.

“Drop her, Jerry,” I demanded, my gaze on the men in the booth. Sam looked ready to commit murder. Jerry was about two seconds away from having a heart attack, and Andrew more than likely had a concussion from Jerry shoving him into the filing cabinet. Brooke’s voice was suddenly gone, leaving only a seething Grayson Lockhart on the line.

“Uh, Gray?” I hesitated, trying to slip back into professional mode. All eyes were on me, and Daphne and Sophia looked just as shell-shocked as I felt. “We’ve dropped Brooke and we sincerely apologize for the confusion. Her e-mail clearly stated—”

His deep tone, once hypnotic, now sounded menacing as he declared, “You’ll be hearing from my attorney,” right before disconnecting.

“Well,” I laughed uncomfortably. “That was certainly interesting, ladies.”

“Understatement of the year,” Sophia added just as someone knocked on the glass of the booth, pulling my attention back.

Oh shit.

Sam’s finger was pointed straight at me as he mouthed, “Get your ass in my office,” clear as day.

I gave him a thumbs-up, then pointed at the clock so he could see there were about fifteen minutes left of our show. I thought the vein protruding from his neck was going to burst as he bellowed “Now!” so loud Jerry and Andrew flinched.

Well okay then.