Page 7 of Yo Ho Ho
Crisis averted as everyone laughed at the Russian's comeback. Count on Alex to make a joke and break any tension or awkward situation. She had to give him extra credit for being able to do that in his second language.
Max grabbed her drink and shrugged. "I mean, you never know," she said. "It could work."
Oh, crap. Those words actually came out of her mouth. Why was she saying anything, let alone saying that?
"What do you mean you never know?" Alex asked. "If Logan fucked you and then said that, you're telling me you would just back off?"
Logan did fuck me, you dumb Russian oaf."At least he was being honest," she said, trying not to sound too defensive. "Besides, I'm a reporter. That would never happen. I mean, ever."
She sounded too defensive, didn't she? Because she was being too defensive. All her talk about that night with Logan never happening again, and the person she was trying to convince the most about that was probably herself. It would be dangerous and bad, especially if people found out, but damn, she wanted it.
"Nope!" Alex said. "You would do it, and if you did it with me, you would come back."
Max laughed in his face. "That's never going to happen."
"Your ego is as big as your damn country, Birdie," Logan said.
Max could only shake her head and smile. She could never thank him in person, but right now, she was quietly repeating in her head,Thank you, Birdie, for distracting everyone from realizing that Logan was talking about me.
Which just made her think of Logan again, his muscular, warm body weighing down on her as he—
Max's phone vibrated in her jacket pocket, distracting her from the trip down memory lane. She pulled it out see "Sports desk" on the caller ID screen. Standing up, she squeezed her way out of her seat at the table, explaining that she had to take this call from the office.
Bob and Charlie nodded in understanding. "Don't let them give you crap with some dumb question," Bob told her. "And get me another Jack on your way back."
Max smiled and nodded before heading out the front door to call the office back. The night had become a bit cooler, but it was still southern California. There were people walking by with scarves on while she enjoyed the warm weather that was very different from the bitter Michigan cold she had left behind.
She called the sports copy desk back, surprised that Amanda, who was usually lazy about picking up, answered her before the phone even rang twice.
"Sports desk," Amanda said matter-of-factly.
"Hey, it's Max. You called?"
"Yeah." Amanda's voice had become quieter than usual. "Where are you?"
"Outside a bar in Los Angeles," she replied with a teasing smile. "There's palm trees and warm weath—"
"Stop and listen to me, OK?"
Max paused, the smile disappearing from her face. Amanda sounded weird. Unsure or nervous. Definitely serious. It sounded like this wasn't some call about Max's story. It sounded like it was about something much worse.
"I'm listening," Max replied quietly.
"There's an emergency editorial meeting tomorrow," Amanda explained. "It's at 10 a.m. or whatever time that is out there."
"Seven a.m."
"Seven a.m.? Fuck," she muttered.
Max took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. "Is that a problem?"
"We're probably going to be fine, but I don't think the meeting tomorrow is good news," she said. "Just call in and we'll find a way to get you back here if we have to."
"Amanda, what are you talking about?"
Max could hear her shuffle the phone and rustle some papers before she finally spoke again, her voice even lower this time.
"There are rumors that the paper is going to announce more layoffs."
