Page 23 of Forecasting the Forward

“I’d like you to show me anywhere in my contract where it says I can’t be friends with certain people.”

Brad scoffs. “He’s all over you. That isn’t a ‘friend.’”

I roll my eyes at his air quotes. “He was not all over me. He held my hand. That was it.”

“You’re honestly going to sit here and lie to me? You went back to your apartment with him.”

“He walked me back there —” I stop. “What did you just say?”

Brad’s nostrils flare. “He was there.”

“How did you know he was there? Are you following me?” I ask incredulously. “And how do you know where I live?”

“One of the shots shows you walking into the building, so I assumed you lived there. I don’t know where you live, Becca.” Brad stands, placing both hands on his desk, and leans toward me. I recognize the power move, a move meant to be threatening and imposing to me. Instead of cowering or shrinking, I lean back against the chair, glaring up at Brad defiantly. Crossing my arms over my chest, I lift my chin.

“A photographer followed you. He recognized both of you. You’re lucky he called me instead of selling the shots to the highest bidder.”

“Was this coincidental, Brad? Or were you having me followed?” I ask slowly. His eyes narrow as he formulates an answer.

“Of course I’m not having you followed. Getting candid shots of people like Jax Mitchell is a big business. In any other instance, you’d just be a random woman. A puck bunny. But you’ve got a following here too, Becca. That makes this murky, and we don’t need any more bad publicity at the station.”

“It’s not my fault some of your ‘good ole boys,’” I say, mocking him with his own air quotes, “decided to make stupid choices this summer.” Our evening news team and production staff went out one night and destroyed a restaurant. No provocation. No reasoning. Just straight destruction. Unfortunately for them, cameras were everywhere, and therestaurant went viral when the Denver Police released the footage. It was quite the spectacle.

Brad rounds his desk, coming to sit on the edge of the mahogany in front of me. Leaning forward, he places a hand on my shoulder.“Look, Becca. I only have your best interests at heart. Jax Mitchell is a player. He’ll get what he wants from you, and then he’ll drop you for the next piece of ass. Surely you don’t want that.”

When his thumb seems to jolt against my shoulder, causing it to flutter under the fabric of my sleeveless dress, I stiffen. My voice hisses out slowly as I utter, “Take your hand off of me.”

Brad’s eyes widen, and he swiftly lunges backward as his face pales. Standing, I move around the chair, putting it between the two of us. “Oh shit. I’m sorry. Really, Becca. I didn’t mean anything by that —”

I interrupt him. “I don’t care what you meant. Anything I do in my personal life is my business, not yours. If I want to date Jax Mitchell, or if I only want to fuck him, it’s up to me. You keep your nose out of it.”

Brad throws up his hand in a surrender gesture. “Okay. But the moment it becomes news, we’ll be meeting again. And I can’t guarantee I’ll be this nice.”

Turning, I storm out of the office, making a beeline for my cubicle downstairs, but pass it to head into my favorite women’s bathroom on this floor. Yes, I have a favorite. I even have a preferred stall. Relieved to find the bathroom completely empty, I lock myself in my favorite stall and attempt to take a deep breath.

Focus, Becca.

Breathe, two, three, four. In through the nose.

Out through the mouth. Two, three, four.

In through the nose, and hold it.

You are in control.

How can you be so stupid?

No. My father isn’t here.

I hate how his voice comes in crystal clear when I’m having a difficult time, right on the cusp of a breakdown. Hands shaking, I carefully withdraw my phone from my pocket. Whoever invented pockets, actual usable pockets, on dresses, deserves everything in the world.

My vision starts to blur with tears as I attempt to pull up a search engine. My therapist gave me a variety of different tricks for when I’m really feeling like my anxiety is taking over. The breathing exercises usually help immensely. Now I’m looking up kitten videos. Even though I have a dog, I’ve always secretly wanted a cat. For the longest time, my parents convinced me I was allergic to cats. I only found out recently that it was a lie. I’d love to get a Maine Coon cat, but I already feel bad about the amount of time I spend away from Thunder.

The kitten videos are calming my nerves a little, but I still shriek when my phone buzzes with a DM.

StickUM92: What’s your favorite color?

NerdGirl1025: Turquoise. I’ve always wanted to go to one of those exotic places where the ocean water is so clear and turquoise that I could watch the fish for hours.

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