Page 82 of 7 Days and 7 Nights

“So, what does this mean in terms of who stays on the air?” Ben wanted to know.

T.J. leaned forward, his forearms on his knees. “That’s the best part. I just got off the phone with Detroit.” He smoothed a hand over his head. “In view of the research, the anticipated numbers, and the expansion of both your audience demographics, Olivia and Matt both win. The company has decided it can afford both shows.”

“What?” Matt, Ben, and Diane sounded like a Greek chorus.

“That’s great,” Olivia bit out. “But you’re wrong, T.J.” She looked directly at Matt. “Regardless of what the numbers say, if I’ve lost the trust and respect of my audience, I’ve lost. Period.”

Feeling every bit as betrayed and angry as her core audience, Olivia slung her purse over her shoulder and stood. “That would make you the winner and reigning champ, Matt. Congratulations. You worked hard for it.”

T.J. stood, too. “You’re missing the larger picture here, Olivia,” he said. “You and Matt are no longer just local celebrities. Detroit’s convinced your audience will stick with you and the social media buzz has gone way beyond Atlanta. They want to putLiv LiveandGuy Talkon the rest of the company-owned stations; that’s nineteen more markets apiece.”

Olivia stared T.J. in the eye. “You’re the one who doesn’t get it. Those P1’s and P2’s aren’t just numbers to me. They are real people with issues and problems, and I’ve let them down. Now I have to figure out how to make them understand something I don’t even understand myself.” She shook her head in disgust. “I’m not interested in hearing what Detroit wants right now. My agent will be in touch when I am.”

“Olivia, please,” T.J. called out, but Olivia marched across the room and out of the office without a backward glance.

For a tense moment no one spoke, and then the recriminations started.

Diane glowered at Matt. “Everything would have been fine if you’d fought fair.”

"Me?”

"We all heard you bragging about how you’d have her flat on her back. I never thought you’d be able to do it. I should have warned her.” Diane wrung her hands.

Matt shook his head. “That was just talk. I’m not the one who told us our shows were at risk and locked us in a peanut-sized apartment for a week.” He stood and crossed over to tower over Charles and T.J. as realization dawned. “This was bullshit all along, wasn’t it? You just used the budget thing to get us in there.”

Only Charles was stupid enough not to look shocked at the accusation.

“And then you turned on the cameras and let us perform.” Matt’s anger grew, and he focused all of it on Charles. “Ben told me you were always fooling with that camera software, Crankower. I should have paid more attention. You were just waiting for your chance, weren’t you? I assume you’re the one who told that AJC reporter about Chicago?”

“It’s not a state secret. It’s right there in your resumes.” The Promotions Director sounded smug.

“Now, gentlemen." T.J.’s tone was conciliatory, but Charles didn’t seem to perceive the danger.

“You are a piece of shit, Crankower.”

“I wouldn’t be so self-righteous, Ransom,” Charles sneered. “We just got you into the apartment. What happened there was your own doing.”

The feel of his fist connecting with Charles’s chin afforded some satisfaction, and it did stop the words.

Unfortunately, Matt reflected, as he stepped over Charles’s inert body and headed out the door, it didn’t make them any less true.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

At seven-thirty Tuesday morning, Olivia backed her car down her driveway, heading to WTLK with all the enthusiasm of someone about to face a firing squad.

After watching scores of tweens reenact her and Matt’s clinch on TikTok, she’d spent much of the night nursing her anger at the station and its corporate parent, and the rest of it trying to understand her feelings for Matt. She’d hoped for a healing night’s sleep. Instead, she’d spent it tossing and turning and attempting to gain some understanding of what had happened to her.

As she alternately pounded her pillow and paced the rooms of her home, she told herself she hated Matt Ransom, that this whole mess was entirely his fault, and that what had happened between them belonged in the category of really great sex, not serious lovemaking. But a part of her wanted to believe she hadn’t imagined the connection she’d felt, that there’d been something real between them—something she could understand and somehow find a way to explain to her audience.

She would have liked to whip herself into a frenzy of indignation, but her conscience wouldn’t allow it. Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t deny how alive she felt when she was with him. Or how much she’d enjoyed sparring with him, eating with him, even cleaning up after him. Getting to know him over a meal had been a gift. He wasn’t the same man he’d been in Chicago, even though he kept trying to act like he was. And when he’d had the chance to ruin her completely, he hadn’t taken it.

Leaving her car in the underground garage, Olivia took the elevator to the station lobby. During the ride up she teased herself with fantasies of breaking through Matt’s defensive armor to the rich bed of feeling she suspected lay underneath. And then she chided herself for being such an optimist, because really, what were the chances that he’d ever let her or anyone else in?

Diane met her in the control room with a smile, a hug, and a box of Krispy Kreme donuts.

“Still off the wagon, huh?" Olivia asked. Diane shrugged. “Just think of it as the Dozen-Donuts-a-Day Diet. I figured we could both use a little pick-me-up.”

Olivia helped herself to a glazed chocolate donut.

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