Page 74 of When Worlds Collide
“Okay, so I’m guessing that face has something to do with work?” I schooled my expression into something more diplomatic.
“Ding, ding, ding.” She sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose, tossing her glasses onto the table in an uncharacteristic display of frustration.
“Yowch,” I said sympathetically. “Everything alright?”
“Same shit, different day.”
“Wanna talk about it?” I offered, taking a seat at the kitchen counter and sipping my coffee.
“Not really much to tell,” Becka said with a shrug. “No one knows what hole TK’s crawled into, and we’re scrabbling to reschedule. That’s nothing to do with me, but I’ve been roped into helping.”
I winced. It hadn’t even been a month since the firestorm of my departure from Pisces – and consequently LA – and the shit had officially hit the fan. Or at least, quietly. I’d told Becka ENT was suing Pisces. She already knew. I guess I was the only one naïve enough to think those confidentiality agreements meant a damn thing.
I felt a flare of disgust at the mention of Trevor Kyle. I could almost feel the ghost of his finger as it trailed along the base of my spine. I gave myself a mental shake.
“How’s Jeremy?” I asked. I’d been worried about him ever since I found out he was the one who emailed ENT the confirmation that Trevor Kyle had knowingly filmed us in the conference room.
Becka waved a dismissive hand. “Same as he ever was. Mere minutes from putting his head through a wall.”
I barked out a laugh. It was as astute observation. My curmudgeony ex-boss often looked on the verge of a breakdown. He was also probably one of the coolest people I’d ever met. I’d had that opinion long before he put his neck on the line for me in my firing meeting. Now that I knew he’d gone several steps further and sent that data to ENT? I had no way of knowing if he’d done it because of his principles, or if he’d done it on my behalf. But, I liked to think…
“How’s he getting away with it?” I asked, shaking my head.
Becka blinked slowly at me. “Didn’t we already talk about this?”
I searched my brain. I had been so wrapped up in the Jihoon-of-it-all, had I forgotten this detail? After a moment’s pause, I confidently replied, “No, I’m pretty sure I’d remember.”
Becka sighed again. I didn’t envy her. I also couldn’t help the twinge of guilt, knowing that this whole thing was kind of my fault. Granted, I wasn’t the scumbag producer who’d secretly filmed a client kissing his intern girlfriend on company grounds, but…
“The sooner this is over and I can get back to posting fluffy content about studio bloopers, the happier I’ll be.”
Becka, as Pisces’ social media manager, usually handled PR. But that would have been underselling her many talents. I admired Becka more than I admired pretty much anyone.
“This part is just between you and me, capiche?” she said, suddenly serious as she narrowed her eyes at me. I pulled my fingers across my lips in answer.
“So, you know my dad and Jeremy were college buddies, right?”
I nodded. That friendship was the whole reason Becka has been able to get me an internship at Pisces, who notoriously did not hire interns. Becka’s dad had called in a favour. Not because he cared about me, but because Becka was his little princess.
“Well, because my dad’s a lawyer he drafted a letter for Jeremy to give to management. I don’t know exactly what was in the letter – dad wouldn’t say – but it had the words ‘whistleblower protection’ and ‘company liability’ in it. I got the impression that he was spinning it as some kind of way to protect Pisces. Whatever that letter said, it worked. Jeremy hasn’t missed a single day of work.”
“Wow, Becka. Your dad is kind of awesome.”
She smirked and tossed her bangs out of her eyes. “He has his moments.”
“But no one knows what’s going on with TK?”
“Fuck only knows,” Becka grumbled. “The worm has well and truly wriggled off the hook.”
Silently, I disagreed. I suspected he was just laying low, and the thought made me uneasy.
Another day had passed without me doing anything about my job situation. After receiving the invitation from ENT, I’d been so distracted it had completely slipped my mind.
Today, Jihoon had gone into Gangnam to work on his mix tape, so I spent my time wandering around Itaewon, on my way to a Korean language class I’d enrolled in, much to Jihoon’s amusement.
“Why go to class when I can teach you?” He’d said, nuzzling my neck, as we lay in bed that morning.
I threw one leg over his, and he reached for it, pulling it higher up until it fell over his hip.
