Page 5 of The Thorne at My Side
“You did? Ohmygod, Maggie. What do you think?” Sam asks and I can picture her sitting on the edge of her seat.
"Well the guy I'm talking to is great, but it's also confusing because I don't actually know him. And I hit it off with Mike and he was fine so maybe I should just end the SMS Connect thing and go with Mike."
"You hear yourself right? Don't settle for fine because it's in front of you."
"Yeah, okay, you're right."
"So what do you and Text Man talk about?"
"Oh it's nothing, we talk about D.C., podcasts, music, sports, hair products," I chuckle. "He's got a cat named Brinkley."
"So he's into pussy?"
I bark out a laugh as I reach the metro station. "I mean, a girl can only hope. Okay, meet you at the office in 30."
"See you then."
CHAPTER 2
“Dude, where is your head at?”
AUSTIN
"Up and at ‘em!" My sister calls out as she flips the switch on the automatic blinds in my bedroom.
"Elle, when are you moving out? I can't handle you and your morning person tendencies." I grumble as I roll away from the light.
"Austin, I'm barely a morning person, you're just nocturnal. It's seven, normal people don’t call this early."
"Is The Morning Show still on?” I know it is because I hear Showbiz Scoop in the background. It’s a segment I’ve been featured on from time to time so I have to fight the urge to throw the TV out the window when I hear the jingle. “Because that, by definition, is still the morning."
"Yes but you know I have to be up to open the studio for the 5:30 class."
"But why do I have to be up for that?"
"You’re lucky I waited to wake you up until I got home. Plus, Dad wants to see me be responsible and getting you to the office before 10:00 is one way I can show him that."
She cheerfully knocks out a beat on my door. When I let my little sister Eloise move in with me, I didn’t know she'd try to use me as her ticket to prove to Dad she’s responsible. The piece I’m missing is how turningmeinto a morning person proves thatshehas hit the trust inheritance requirement. Had I known, I would have told her it's not worth the effort. Dad only cares about one thing, making money. He doesn't care what time of day it happens or really where it comes from as long as it hits the bank account.
I hear Elle out in the front of the condo talking to Brinkley. As I head to the shower I check the little gray rectangle I've become overly attached to. I turn it off at night, after I send my message to TalkShopGirl because if I don’t, I’ll sleep with one ear open hoping to hear the ping indicating her response. Which means the only way to tell if TalkShopGirl has responded is to turn it on.
I brace myself for not hearing back from her. It hasn’t happened yet, but the last thing I wrote to her was about a hair product Elle wouldn't shut up about yesterday so I’m concerned.
But also, these conversations as DCFox are the most genuine words I've ever exchanged with a woman. Because TalkShopGirl has no idea that I am Austin Thorne, media conglomerate heir and tabloid darling.
Most women date me for my bank account or access to the company's broadcast and gossip channels and my verified status on social media. And, while I'm certainly not complaining because those women are usually an appealing combination of attractive and inattentive, the texts I exchange with TalkShopGirl make me feel like a teenager. The pimply kid who is too tall for his muscle mass, too nervous to approach his crush, looking for anything to say to her.
Like a full paragraph on his sister’s hair products.
The little phone comes to life and I lean against the counterin my bathroom as I brush my teeth and read her latest note.
TalkShopGirl:I like thinking that our texts are this ongoing conversation. One where our messages don't have a beginning or an end. And, I love waking up to your notes. I open my eyes and try to avoid this little device as long as possible before I finally give in and check because I am desperate to know what DCFox has to say.
As soon as I start reading your words the rest of the world fades away. I don't hear the hustle and bustle of my neighborhood. I don't hear the notifications on my team’s slack channel. I only hear the rhythm of my own heart as I read my note, from you.
A wide smile spreads across my face. It's ridiculous because we don't know each other but she sounds as invested in this relationship as I am.
When I walk into the corporate headquarters of Thorne Media Corp an hour later, I head straight through the lobby to the back patio that overlooks the river.
