“Yes.”
Satisfied enough, she lowered back down into the chair. Crisis averted, I turned to leave—
“Wait,” she said. “How are you? How was your weekend?”
My lungs tightened in my chest. In our professional life, the breakup had gone as well as one could hope for, given that she’d sent nudes to half of the guys we worked with. It was a miracle she hadn’t been fired, but it might have been part of her plan. She craved attention, and it didn’t matter what kind.
“It was fine.” I used a clipped tone to show her I didn’t want to have a conversation.
She ignored my signals and asked it casually. “What’d you do?”
I narrowed my eyes. I knew what she was doing. Morgan didn’t care what I’d done—she was fishing for me to ask about her weekend. Whatever she was excited to tell me about, I wasn’t interested. It was ridiculous I had to constantly reassure her on her looks, and I was fucking tired.
“I went on a date.”
There was a spike of surprise followed by jealousy in her expression that she unsuccessfully tried to disguise. “Oh? With who?”
“A girl I met. A dancer.”
Morgan’s mouth fell open. “You went out with a stripper?”
“What? No, ballet. We met when I had an orchestra thing.”
The sunny yellow dress wasn’t enough to brighten her frown. “You’re dating a ballerina?”
It was petty to want to hurt Morgan, but I couldn’t help it. Her betrayal still stung, and I wanted her to feel some discomfort too.
“Yes,” I lied and then switched to the truth. “You should see her dance. She’s absolutely beautiful.”
Morgan looked the way she did when the teleprompter stopped working. A vacant smile was frozen on her face, but her eyes were pure panic. I left her like that and went back to the set, needing to do some actual work.
Justin, my boss, was talking with one of the anchors, but when he saw me, he waved me over and dismissed the anchor. His stern expression made the coffee in my stomach churn.
“Grant, we need to talk about your segment proposals. What is going on with you? You’re all over the place.” He put his hands on his hips, and his tone was serious. “When you first came on, your stuff was so edgy, but now you’re giving me nothing but fluff.”
My stuff had been too edgy, he’d lectured. Frustration boiled inside me. There was no pleasing this man. “It’s a morning show. You told me to tone it down and that viewers love fluff.”
“They do, but we have to find a balance, otherwise we become a joke. I can’t have that.”
“Of course not.”
“Tell me you’ve got something good in the works.”
Unease crept over my skin. I knew I should keep my mouth shut, but it spilled out anyway. “Maybe.”
Interest piqued through him. “Yeah? What is it?”
“It’s not ready.” I tried to walk it back. “It could be nothing.”
He scowled. “Well, let’s hope it’s something, because people aren’t going to keep watching if we’re giving them nothing. You understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t love my job, but I needed it, and if I didn’t give Justin something he could work with, he wouldn’t keep me around. Then, I’d have to find a new job or go crawling back to my wealthy family in Johannesburg.
Neither option was appealing, and I wasn’t going to let it come to that.
“Next thing I turn in will be huge,” I said.