I direct my attention to the camera.
“And we’re back.” I look to Ronnie. “So, Ronnie, you were changing the format on us. But that’s all right. It’s a valid point. Women should know what to steer clear of as well as what to be attracted to.”
Let’s see what I can do to salvage this conversation.
She nods slightly, her expression serious. “Actually, the negative traits might be even more important to discuss than the positives.”
The vice grip on my lungs cranks tighter. “Please…enlighten us.”
I swallow hard when she narrows her eyes ever so slightly and her mouth hardens the smallest amount.
Then she draws in a deep breath and turns toward the audience.
“Well, there are the obvious ones. The man of your dreams should be in the market for a long-term relationship, the same as you. No sense in wasting your precious time on a guy who wants to hit it and quit it.”
Again, the audience applauds. It’s like she just speared me with her stare. I flip through my useless note cards. “Well, a woman should also keep in mind that some men may start out like that, but people change.”
Ronnie huffs and crosses her arms as her eyebrows draw together. She pushes her chair around so it faces the audience. “Can I speak candidly, Jack?”
I cough. I am so going to regret this, but I can’t exactly tell her no while we’re live. “Of course.”
Her eyes meet mine over her shoulder. “Ladies, the fact is, you should never fall for a guy whose depth can be measured by the length of his cock.”
Eric throws his hands in the air.
Ronnie must’ve seen him, because she leans closer and asks, “Oh, can I say cock on television?”
We’ll get a big, fat fine for that one. “You just did. Twice.”
Eric’s eyes go wide. He face-palms.
I should have insisted that we tape this segment. What the fuck was I thinking?
“All right, so all in all, the advice is to be careful who you set your sights on, ladies. Now let’s move on to those positive traits.”
She holds up a finger. “Wait. I have one more that we really need to discuss.”
Ronnie stands and turns her chair to face me again.
I rub the back of my neck. I wonder if anyone will notice if I get up and leave.
I inhale deeply. “Okay, but let’s talk about at least one positive trait.”
Ronnie tilts her head. “This ought to be good coming from you, a self-proclaimed confirmed bachelor.”
I grab the book, pointing to it. “Chapter fourteen. Protectiveness. A man should be willing to stand between his woman and danger. Right?”
Ha. I fit that one at the very least. Dispute that, Peaches.
I lean back, twirling my pen.
Ronnie narrows her eyes and grins. “But the woman should make sure that the protection isn’t a ploy to get her between the sheets.”
The pen snaps in two.
“Okay. Let’s talk a bit about what men should expect from the woman they choose.”
She gasps. “We aren’t talking about what men should look for.”
I lean toward her. “Well, maybe we should. For instance, honesty. You say in your book that men want honesty…so a man should be able to trust that if there’s some monumentally important news, the woman he loves will tell him at the first opportunity.”
My heart pounds. Heat rushes through me as a wave of red-hot anger blisters the inside of my skull.
How dare he? Question my honesty? Seriously?
Jackson’s eyebrows rise in question.
Jackass.
He takes a look at his cue cards. “Well, Ms. Fitz? Don’t you think honesty is important from both partners?”
I stand. Palms flat on his desk, I lean forward. Nausea rolls through me.
“Let me tell you what I think about your honesty—” My stomach roils and squeezes. I pull in a deep breath. “You are a lying, conniving, career destroying—”
Acid heat pushes up from the back of my throat. Oh, good Lord, not now. My stomach convulses, and every last shred of my dignity lands with a splash on Jackson’s desk.
He thrust himself away from his desk and stands, arms held out wide. His face is masked with shock and disgust.
My hands fly to cover my mouth. Tears gather in my eyes, and I can’t breathe. I take off and run into the blue curtain. It swishes around me, and I push against the heavy fabric. I twist and turn, until I free myself.
Can it get worse?
Down the halls. Wrong turn. Back up. Another wrong turn.
God, why am I having such a hard time finding my way?
Finally, I find the greenroom. I snag my purse out of the locker and toss the little key onto the floor.
Of all the times for this to happen.
I make it to my car, ramming the key into the ignition with shaking hands.