Tonic (32 page)

“It doesn’t matter.” The ache in my chest twisted and burned. “I humiliated both of us. I’ve been insulted and rejected, and I can’t blame anyone but myself. I can’t even be mad because I earned this.” I took a breath. I let it out. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“All right,” she conceded.

But the white flag wasn’t enough, so I hauled myself off the couch. “I’m heading to bed.”

“Okay. Thanks for everything today. I’m glad it’s over.”

“Me too,” I said as I turned for the stairs, wishing the whole thing was over, even as I knew it had barely begun.

Annika

I WOKE UP STILL EXHAUSTED from a fitful sleep, and as I got ready for work, I tried to prepare myself for the day. But I had no idea what I was preparing myself for. I had the suspicion that this was it — I couldn’t see a way to keep working on the show. Never mind Joel, that cause was lost. So lost. And I was still picking shrapnel out of my heart, piece by bloody piece.

I imagined talking to him, imagined him freezing me out again. Imagined him yelling, screaming like he did that day, the day when everything went nuclear. Imagined him forgiving me, holding me, telling me he understood, but only for a moment. A moment was all I could stand before I closed that hope behind an iron door.

The ride to work was quiet, and I steeled myself, ready as I could ever be for the unknown.

No one noticed my exit from the car or my entrance to the control room, everyone going about their business as if I were a ghost. The thought gave me no comfort as I walked into the office, finding Laney just where I knew she’d be. But when she looked up and smiled, I found a dangerous glimmer of hope again.

“Hey,” she started, closing her laptop. “How are you holding up?”

I assumed she was talking about my cat and said, “I’m okay, thanks. Kira wanted to have a funeral for Kaz, so we did that yesterday.” I took my seat, feeling stiff and uncertain. “How’s it going here?”

She sighed. “Better. It definitely helped having you out for a few days. I’ve got everyone starting to get back into a little bit of a rhythm, and they’re talking to me in one-on-ones, but it’s still tense.” She watched me for a beat. “You saw him yesterday?”

I nodded. “We didn’t really speak though.”

“I gathered that. He hasn’t said much, when he’s been here.” She folded her hands in her lap, sitting back in her chair. “I owe you an apology, Annika.”

I blinked once, stunned. “I’m sorry?”

She chuckled. “No, that’s my line.” She let out a slow breath, assessing me. “I’m sorry about this. About Joel. The show. My behavior. It’s just … this is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I saw this — you and Joel — coming a mile away, and it didn’t take me long to figure out that there was no way out of it for you without someone getting hurt. I know I didn’t go about it the right way, and I’m sorry for that too. I only wanted to stop you from this. Exactly this. You being unable to produce the show. Me being put in a position to have to figure out what to do with you. The shop being in the middle of a coup. I wanted to protect you, and I handled it all wrong, and for that, I’m sorry.”

I sat there with numb hands, surprised and full of shock. “I’m sorry for not listening. I thought I could handle it. Produce my way out of it.”

“And you might have been able to do it. But it just didn’t work out that way. I’m sorry we couldn’t film right away, but it just wasn’t possible, and I’m sorry you couldn’t tell him.”

“It’s all right. You were right — I know there was nothing we could have done.” I took a breath, steeling myself for the question I didn’t want to hear the answer to. “So, what are you going to do about me?”

“Well, I have a plan. But I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”

“Are you firing me?”

Her brow quirked. “What? No. Why would I do that?”

“Because you should have done it already.”

“I probably should have, but no. I’m not firing you. But you might find that preferable to what I have to offer.”

I recrossed my legs in an effort to relieve the squirmy feeling racing through me. “All right. Let’s hear it.”

“Well, as we well know, Tonic doesn’t want to talk to you. The footage from Joel’s table flip all included you. The interviews, you. You’re everywhere.”

A tingle worked its way up my neck, across my cheeks. “Oh, God. Laney, no.”

She nodded. “You’re a part of the show, and the only way out I can see is to stop fighting it and put you in front of the camera.”

I dropped my face into my palms, trying to keep my breath steady. “Fuck,” I said into my hands.

“You’ll still produce, just nothing inter-personal, and they’re going to fight you, but it’ll be on camera. You’ll work on the big segments and with scheduling and all, but I’ll do the rest. Basically, we’ll split the production up, both of us EP, but you’ll be in front of the camera too.”

I couldn’t even look at her. “You’re right. This might be worse than getting fired.”

She chuckled, and I sat up, feeling a little faint.

“He’s never going to go for this.”

She let out a long, slow breath through her nose. “It’s the only way I can see to keep you on the show in any context, so I hope you’re wrong.”

“When are you going to tell him?”

“Well, that all depends on you. First, do you accept?”

I thought it over for a second, but in the end, I knew she was right. “If it’s the only chance at keeping my job, then it’s worth a shot.”

“Good. So the next question is, do you want to tell him or should I?”

That one wasn’t answered so easily, and I sat back, considering it.
 

Sure, Laney could tell him, but I found myself not wanting to let her. Because the truth was, I missed him. Over everything, through all of it, he wouldn’t talk to me,
really
talk to me, and this was a chance, an opportunity to get him face to face. Maybe now he’d listen to me after the long days of silence, the two of us hurting in our own corners, alone. Maybe he’d talk to me. Maybe I could convince him to at least begin to forgive me.

“I’ll tell him,” I said and only hoped I wouldn’t regret it. I nibbled my bottom lip, already rolling over the speech I’d give him. “When?”

“Whenever you want. He’s downstairs now in the shop.”

“Now?” The word squeaked a little on the end.

“Yes, but you don’t have to go down there now. I was only saying he’s there.”

The thought of going down there made me feel sick. The thought of waiting, sitting here for any length of time just thinking about it, made me feel even sicker. So I stood and smoothed my skirt.
 

“Now’s good.”

She nodded. “You sure?”

But I was already heading for the door. “I’m sure.”

So down the stairs I went, adrenaline rushing through me until my hands were icy and shaking. Out the door of the building and into Tonic I walked, chin up, looking far more confident than I felt.

Joel sat at his desk sketching, his shoulders broad in a Henley. He turned and looked over his shoulder with a jovial expression that hardened the second he saw it was me. But I didn’t waver, just walked up to his booth with everyone watching me.

“May I have a word with you in your office?”

He didn’t answer, just burned a hole through me with his eyes as I stood there, waiting.

“It’s about the show.”

It was one of the few things he couldn’t refuse, just like I’d hoped. He stood, and I turned, walking back toward the office with my heart thumping like a drum.
 

He followed me in, and I nodded to the door. “Privately, please.”

Another hard look before he closed the door and stood almost against it, folding his arms across his wide chest, closing himself off to me.

I took a breath, my eyes on his. “Laney has a new plan for the show, and I need to discuss it with you before we can move forward.”

“Why couldn’t Laney talk to me about it?”

“Because it involves me, and I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Tell me what?”

All of a sudden, I didn’t want to say it. I fought the urge to leave, to tell Laney she could tell him herself, or better yet, that I could just leave the show. But really, it was the last thing I wanted to do, to give up, to walk away from Tonic. From Joel.

“We can’t edit me out of the show. I’m already a part of it, and that’s what she wants me to do. Join the cast and produce the segments unrelated to the relationships in the shop.”

He said nothing. I waited. He didn’t speak.

“Joel, I know …”
you’re angry, this isn’t easy, this sucks.
It all felt wrong, shitty, trite. “I know I fucked up. I’m sorry for what I’ve done. I thought … I hoped you would understand. You told me you did, before, in the beginning. Because there was no way out for me. You have to know that. And now, the only way for me to keep my job is to join the cast. This is it.”

He swallowed, watching me like a wolf. “What do you want from me?”

Forgive me. Kiss me. Take me back.
I took a breath. “I want to know if you’re okay with it. If you agree to work under those conditions.”

A flush crept into his cheeks as he drew in a breath. “You want to know if I’ll work with you in front of a camera when I don’t want to work with you behind the camera?” Incredulous, that was the only word to describe it.

“At least if I’m in front of the camera, it’s honest.”

A mirthless laugh shot out of him. “Honest. That’s fucking rich.”

My heart flinched at the insult.

Joel shook his head. “So, what? You want my blessing? Well, I’m not here to make you feel better about any of this, not when you’ve made the entire shop miserable. Not after what you’ve done.”

He couldn’t say it, what I’d done to
him
. I opened my mouth to speak, but he kept going, cutting me off.

“I can’t with you. I can’t hear your voice. I can’t see your face. I just … I can’t. But I don’t really have a choice, either. Do I? Because you and Laney will do whatever you want, and who gives a shit who you ruin along the way. It’s about your job. It’s always been about your job. There’s no room in you for anything else. Not me, at least.”

“Joel, that’s not fair.” My nose burned, and I blinked to keep the tears back.

He fumed. “Don’t tell me what’s fair and what isn’t, Annika.” My name was a curse on his lips. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to see you, not in any context, in front of the camera, behind it, in the shop or out. I don’t want to even think about the fact that you exist in the universe because it’s just easier that way. So no. I won’t give you my permission to fuck with me any more than you already have.” He unfolded his arms, clenching his fists at his sides. “Anything else?”

I shook my head, my lips pursed, and he turned and pulled open the door with a whoosh before disappearing from the threshold. He’d taken everything I had left to give, except for one thing. Just one. And I’d give it gladly.

Joel

THE REST OF THE DAY was a blur, a wash of emotions that I couldn’t sort through. I hated her. I wanted her. She hurt me. She healed me. And now, everything between us would be exposed and exploited on national television.

It was the absolute worst case scenario. And I knew she didn’t feel any better about it than I did. That, at least, gave me some comfort.

That night, I found myself sitting in my living room with Shep, sipping my beer to the sound of The Dandy Warhols. We hadn’t spoken in probably an hour, both of us lost in our thoughts. I was drained, sapped of all energy.
 

Until someone knocked on the door. Then I buzzed with anxiety that it was her.

Shep and I exchanged glances, and he got up to answer it as I stared straight ahead of me.

“What are
you
doing here?” he said in a tone that made me turn to see who it was.

It had been a couple of years since I’d seen Liz, but she looked much the same — chin-length black hair with straight bangs, big, blue eyes that went from sweet to crazy in a heartbeat, red lips that would curse you and kiss you in a breath.
 

“Good to see you too, Shep.” She met my eyes. “Can I come in?”

I stood, nodding my assent to Shep, who moved out of the way with a huff. “Guess so.” He watched her for a second as we stood across the room from each other. “Well, I’m gonna make myself scarce. Try not to break anything, okay?”

Neither of us laughed as he walked to his room and shut the door, leaving me alone with her for the first time in nearly fifteen years.

“You look good, Joel.”

“You too, Liz. Wanna sit?”

“Sure, thanks.” She took a seat at the table, and I stepped to the fridge for a beer.
 

“Beer?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.

She shook her head. “I’m in recovery. Weekly meetings. Twelve steps. That old chestnut.” She dug around in her bag as I closed the fridge door, shocked. “Mind if I smoke?”

I shook my head, grabbing an ashtray off the counter. I slid it in front of her and sat down as she lit her smoke and took a long drag.
 

“Thanks,” she said.

“What are you doing here, Liz?”

She sat back in her chair and crossed one arm, propping her elbow on it with her cigarette in the air. “I came to call a truce.”

My brow rose. “So Hal sent you?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here.” She took a drag and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “I get the bad blood between all of us, because it’s never been good or easy. We don’t really do easy, you and me.”

I took a pull of my beer in lieu of a response.

“But we both have shows, and they’re going to be pushing us to fight. If we can truce, we can control how it all goes down. Otherwise, we’ll all be at each other’s throats. I don’t want that, and you don’t either. Our shops already hate each other. Throw the show into the mix, and it could really get bad. I don’t want my guys actually fighting with yours. I don’t want to deal with any actual damage. Do you?”
 

“Of course I don’t.”

“Then we should work together.” Another puff of her cigarette. “He’s not a bad guy, Joel.”