Catch My Breath (13 page)

One of the light fixtures in the studio broke loose and crashed to the floor. We were just about to pre-record an interview when it happened. The poor woman who’d come in had nearly passed out from fright. Vance unleashed a barrage of profanity so spectacular I stood and listened to him in awe. Sydney laughed and nudged me.

“We haven’t seen one of those in a long time.”

“He’s rather artful with his language,” I remarked. “Come on. Let’s go see if the set in the back studio is interview ready.”

We walked down the hall to a smaller studio. There were some plush chairs and a couple of tables strewn across the set. Sydney and I positioned them nicely and grabbed some plants to dress it up a bit. Vance came in a few minutes later with a much calmer looking guest. I chatted with them briefly and was relieved to see them both in good spirits. The crew filed in and within minutes the interview was underway.

Bruce popped his head in the control room, summoning me to his office. I signaled I’d be there in a couple minutes.

When the interview ended I strolled up the hallway. Cynthia was coming out of the green room, looking TV ready as usual. Her perfectly arranged auburn hair looked like it could survive a hurricane and a trip through a wind tunnel without breaking formation.

“Hi, Lia. On your way to Bruce’s?”

“Yep. You too?”

“Yeah. Excited for the big gala on Saturday?” she asked as we walked to the news director’s office.

“I am. How’s your speech coming along?”

“It’s not. That’s probably why Bruce wants to see me.” She stopped at his door and leaned closer to me. “If he asks you to help me write it, say no. You have enough stuff going on with sweeps.”

Bruce was typing intently and squinting at the monitor. His bright blue tie sat in a crooked slant against his crisp white shirt. He resembled a mad scientist with disheveled curly black hair and wire rim glasses.

“Come in, you two,” he said, waving his hand.

Cynthia and I sat on the old school, aluminum framed office chairs. I’d be willing to bet a week’s paycheck Bruce had owned these since his college days. The leather cushions were practically flat.

“We’re sending out a camera with you for Saturday. Freddie will be there early to get the arrivals.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Senator Greyson will be there. His press secretary confirmed with me this morning. Cynthia, you’ll have about fifteen minutes to sit with him for an interview. Lia, I’ll need you to be on site by six to field produce and get the room set up…”

Cynthia and Bruce continued to chat about the interview. Whatever they said went over my head and out the window.

“Lia. Lia?”

I looked up and swallowed. “Got it. Six. I’ll be there.”

Bruce handed me a folder loaded with talking points and kept Cynthia with him to work on her speech. Saturday’s banquet was an important annual fundraiser for the children’s hospital downtown. Up until this moment, I’d been excited to go. The minute I got back to my desk I dropped the folder and called Stephanie.

“Hey, girlie. You caught me at a busy time. What’s up?”

“Shoot. Sorry. Call me when you’re free.”

“You’re on the early show today, right? Come over when you’re done. I feel like I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Okay.”

I sat down with a flourish and opened the rundown. There were a few notes in the system from the assignment desk, plus my email inbox was littered with publicists vying for coverage for their clients. Oh, and of course there was a message from Alastair. There had been messages from him since the weekend. I glared at his name and hit delete.

* * *

“Greyson is going to the gala.” I said in a rush.

Stephanie swirled the wine around in her glass, looking at me shrewdly. “The dad?”

“Yep.”

We were sitting at her kitchen table, making our way through bottle number two.

“Well,” she paused. “It’s in a big ball room. You probably won’t even see him.”

I squirmed in the chair, tapping my fingernails against the glass. “They’re having Steele interview him. I’m field producing.”

“Christ in a wheelbarrow. Are you going to be alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, rubbing my eye.

“What if Nathan shows up? Want me to cancel my trip and go with you?”

“No, no. You’ve been looking forward to this conference. I’ll be fine.”

“You said that already.”

“Yeah, well, what can I do? It’s my job. It’ll be quick. The interview is only supposed to last fifteen minutes.”

My eye started twitching. If the earth chose this moment to open up and swallow me whole I wouldn’t object.

"So," Stephanie pursed her lips. "Have you heard from Alastair at all?"

“Yep.”

“What does he have to say for himself?” she inquired, eyes wide and glossy.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve deleted every email he’s sent.”

Stephanie’s jaw dropped. “Really? You’re not curious about what he has to say?”

“Why should I be?”

“Because you like him,” she proclaimed.

“No, I don’t.”

Stephanie tapped her well-manicured nails on the table and looked me up and down.

“I’ve known you what, five years? I have never, in all that time, seen you light up the way you do about Alastair. I don’t care how hard you try to hide it, I see it. He dazzled you.”

“He’s not good for me.” The words sounded unnatural coming out of my mouth.

“Why?”

The twitching in my eye got worse.
Because he sees me. He gets under my skin and into my soul too easily.

“Lia,” she said, shifting in the chair. “I’m all for self-preservation, trust me. He’s still on my shit list for being so friggin bossy about wanting you to delay your flight home, but you said yourself that he treated you really well. As far as the photo or whatever, hear him out.”

* * *

Flashbulbs popped as reporters, bloggers and casual on-lookers watched guests arrive at the Peabody Hotel for the Black and White Ball. I stood just inside the main doors waiting for Cynthia to finish posing. As soon as she got inside we dashed off to the conference room that was designated for the interview. I was in full-on work mode, scrutinizing the lights and making sure nobody tripped over any cables. I had even made six copies of the talking points in case Cynthia lost hers.

The senator and his entourage arrived on time and as scheduled at six-thirty.

“Good to see you, Lia,” Kenneth Greyson clasped my hands, smiling. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I said, guiding him to a high-backed leather chair. “Would you like some water or anything?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay. Cynthia will be sitting across from you. This shouldn’t take much more than fifteen minutes. Thanks again for this, Senator.”

Kenneth adjusted his jacket before sitting down. I’d forgotten how much he looked like an older version of Nathan. They both had the same square jawline and dark blue eyes.

“Think nothing of it, Lia. It’s my pleasure. Actually,” he paused, regarding me thoughtfully, “I’m glad I have this chance to see you. I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and my son. Samantha and I adore you and were hoping…well, you’re missed. That’s all.”

He patted my shoulder and sat down. I wanted to throw up, but forced a smile instead. Pushing all the discomfort to the pit of my stomach, I focused on the task at hand and made sure Cynthia’s interview went without a hitch. Senator Greyson was gracious and personable, answering questions ranging from the economy to immigration reform.

They went well over the fifteen minute target and only stopped when one of the event organizers came in to ask when he’d be ready to address to the ballroom.

After everyone said their goodbyes, I lingered in the empty conference room for a few minutes before going to the gala. This section of the hotel was relatively quiet. The sound of my heels clicking on the marble in the hallway echoed and bounced off the walls. As I got closer to the ballroom, applause filled the hallway.

Walking in was like entering an enchanted land. Everything was decorated in black and white. Guests were also urged to wear those colors. It was a good excuse for me to wear my favorite black cocktail dress and sparkly red heels. Making my way to the table, I noticed each place setting was adorned with a small, white mask.
Nice touch.
I joined Cynthia and several other media personalities at a table close to the main stage.

The whole room sat enraptured during the senator’s remarks. I half-listened to him, playing on my cell phone instead. I’d received a few texts from Stephanie and replied, letting her know that everything was fine. Senator Greyson talked forever. Everyone at my table was either eating or whispering to each other. I only had to stay until Cynthia was finished with her speech. Time could not pass by fast enough.

A hand pressed into my shoulder, warm and strong.

“Hello, Lia.”

The low cadence of that voice paralyzed me from the inside out. Gathering what strength I could, I looked up to my right and locked eyes with Nathan. The smug smile that crossed his lips drained the life out of me.

“So nice to see you again. Come, walk with me.”

He squeezed my shoulder, not really giving me the option to say no. Cynthia glanced at me as I stood up. Not wanting to make a scene, I gathered my clutch, smiled weakly and let Nathan lead me out of the room. Scattered applause rippled through as the senator wrapped up his speech.

“This way,” Nathan instructed, pointing me towards the hall I’d come from earlier. The minute we turned the corner and were out of sight, he caged me against the wall.

"I thought you'd be happier to see me."

My chest tightened. The last time he was this close it hadn’t ended well.

"What do you want?" I tried to sound forceful.

"Nothing. I was just here enjoying the event. Imagine my surprise when I saw you." He leaned closer. "You haven't forgotten about me already, have you, Lia?"

The strong scent of musk turned my stomach. Pieces of his sandy blond hair tickled my forehead. It’d grown longer since the last time I saw him. Heat radiated off his body, suffocating me.

“You must want something. If not, I’m leaving.” Flattening my spine against the wall, I wriggled a bit to the left, pushing away from him. Before I got very far, he grabbed my arm, tugging it hard. My heels slid on the floor, rolling my ankle. Pain shot through it at lightning speed.

"Why do you want to get away from me?" he asked, bewildered.

"You're kidding, right? Let go of me."

He tightened his grasp on my arm, making me wince in pain.

“I know you’re here alone. What’s the hurry?”

“I’m. Working,” I said through clenched teeth.

“You’re babysitting that hair-sprayed kewpie doll. How far up her ass does she need you to be to make a speech?” he sneered.

“Let. Me. Go.” I glared at him, tugging my arm.

"Not so fast.” He pushed me against the wall again, gripping me tighter. “We still have unfinished business.”

Whiskey coated his breath. Voices ricocheted down the hall. I tensed, hoping they’d come down here and interrupt whatever ‘business’ Nathan thought we had. The voices grew silent, signaling they’d turned toward the main lobby.

“We have nothing to talk about,” I seethed.

“Lia, baby,” he condescended. “You threw your little fit, I let you have some space and now we need to talk.”

“About what, Nathan?” I yelled. “We’re done. Finished.”

“We’re not finished until I say so.” His dark blue eyes flashed. I couldn’t believe there was ever a time I found him attractive.

“Oh really? You no longer have any say in what I decide,” I taunted.

“Don’t push me.”

“You’re drunk, Nathan. Go back to your friends or whoever you came here with and leave me alone.”

“Not until I get something from you first. You look good, baby," he moaned in my ear, sliding his other hand under the hem of my dress. He groaned again when he skimmed over the lace trim on my thigh-high stockings.

“I always liked it when you wore these,” he said, kneading my thigh. I could feel his erection pressing into me. “See what you still do to me? You drive me wild.”

“Stop.”

“That’s it, baby. Beg.”

He pushed his hips into me harder, digging his fingers in my arm. I cried out, expecting no sympathy from him. This was what he wanted; to exert complete control over me and my body. Tears rolled down my cheeks, fast and hot.

“I like that no one else has been here,” he rasped, cupping his hand between my thighs. “It’s still mine.”

“You’re disgusting,” I said, repulsed. “It’s not yours. I’m not yours. Let. Me. Go.”

I tried to wrestle away from him.

“Not so fast, Lia.”

Twisting my arm, he shoved me, knocking my head into the wall. My vision rattled. There was no escape. He had me trapped. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe.

The echo of heavy footsteps moving quickly cascaded down the hallway. A blast of cold air shot through my lungs as Nathan’s body was ripped away from me.

“Get your filthy hands off her.”

That voice. It’s not possible.

Shocked and scared, I turned my head to see what happened. Nathan was in a chokehold, flattened against the wall, glaring venomously at Alastair. A defiant laugh gurgled in his throat.

"Who's the British prick?"

"I'll be more than happy to tell you who I am." Alastair's face twisted into a sinister smile. "Let her go. Now."

The second he dropped my arm I crumbled to the floor.
This has to be a nightmare. What is even happening?

"Get your goddam hands off me," I heard Nathan utter. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

"Don't like being roughed up? Tough shit. I don't care who the hell you think you are, but if I so much as hear you breathe the same air as her, it’ll be the last thing you do,” Alastair threatened. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Shoes scraped and scuffled along the floor as they moved. I lifted my head in time to see Nathan straighten his jacket and shoot a deadly glance in my direction before he walked away. Resting my head on my knees, I closed my eyes and surrendered to more tears.