So. Long(131)

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.

Who pukes on national television? What will people think? What does Jack think?

I peel out of the parking lot.

This will definitely be a career ender.





SEVENTEEN





I drop my ruined note cards and sling warm wetness from my hands. My jaw hangs loose.

Eric coughs, drawing my attention. He gives me his dumbass-we’re-still-on-air look.

I grab a tissue from the box at the far end of my on-stage desk and pull my shit together.

“And that’s all part of the excitement of live television. You never know what might happen.” I slap on a smile. “We’re going to go to commercial break and pay some bills while we get this mess cleaned up.”




I pull up at the curb in front of Shayna and Ronnie’s place. There’s a light showing around the blinds in the entryway. Maybe that means she’s still awake. Something this important can’t wait.

We have to get this shit straightened out right now. Whatever she thinks she’s got going with Dave, if it’s just sex, it can’t trump giving our baby a home with two parents. Surely she’ll see the logic in that.