Page 46 of You Spin Me

She sighs on the other end. “This is crazy.”

“Thing is, some people did hear it, and they called in. They want more.”

“More? More embarrassing things about me?”

“No. I don’t know. Forget it. I said no anyway. My boss is pushing me to add something—anything, apparently—to up my ratings.”

Her silence is has my gut tightening. “I swear it was a mistake. I’m not a shock jock. I would never—I value our friendship too much to?—”

“Listen, I need a little time to think about this.”

“I get it, but since we already played it, my boss needs you to actually come in and sign something.”

“Okay, I guess I can do that.”

Her tone has gone completely flat, which kills me, but I can’t blame her for pushing me away. “Can you call the station tomorrow during business hours and ask for Richard Jones? He’ll take care of it.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Okay, then. Well, good night.”

“Good night, Jess. Again, I’m really sorry.”

After she hangs up, I just stare at the receiver, playing the call over in my mind. I don’t think I could’ve fucked that up any more thoroughly.

Oh yeah, turns out I could. I forgot to get her number. Again.

Chapter11

Psst. Boston, it’s Abbie. Abbie Hoffman. When I’m on the run and find myself in Beantown with a little time on my hands and nothin’ better to do, I listen to WBAR.

JESS

The moment the station receptionist leaves me alone in Richard Jones’s office, I’m up and searching the photographs that paper the walls for Cal’s face. It’s silly, but my gut tells me I’ll recognize him. Why I even want to, at this point, I have no idea. After we talked last night, I did my best to convince myself that I should walk away from the endless set of games he seems to be playing.

I let myself believe in the fairy tale for a couple of weeks, but come on. Maybe I’ve played too many tragic heroines, but the idea that there’s someone out there I’m meant to be with who will complete me? Utter bullshit, obviously.

We’re animals with a drive to survive and procreate. That’s it.

Survival first. I’d choose career success over romance any day, so why should I expect anything different from Cal? He needs a gimmick to up his ratings. Why not get a girl to expose an embarrassing moment live on air?

Experience tells me that men take care of themselves first. Cal seemed like he might be different, but that’s probably too much to hope for.

If I’m not going to cut him loose altogether, we need to talk in person. I need to see him to know if I can trust him. I need to be able to read his face.

Jessica’s words fromThe Merchant of Veniceecho in my head. “Love is blind, and lovers cannot see the pretty follies they commit.”

I’m definitely blind in this scenario. But to what? To a man who took advantage of me? Or to my own heart?

The energy shifts in the room, and a masculine voice interrupts my thoughts. “You’re not going to find him.”

Whipping around to face the speaker, I do my best to pretend I wasn’t snooping. “Excuse me?”

“He’s not in any of the pictures.” The tall, stylishly dressed man extends his hand. “Richard Jones. We spoke on the phone.”

His hand is cool and dry, like his voice. “Jessica Abraham. Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones.”

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