Page 17 of Under the Weatherman
“Actually, I am. Aspiring, anyway.”
I ran a hand down her shoulder. “Seriously? What, like poetry? Or fiction?”
“Fiction.” She snuggled in closer. “That’s the dream, anyway. The reality is that I fix other people’s non-fictional scholarly work most of the time.”
“It sucks that most of life is doing only a shadow of what we dream of.” I sighed. I was one to talk. I’d had a lot of luck in my career, but that didn’t mean it suited me. “Hey, if you’re in the market for writing work, you should check the local news stations. They always need people with chops.”
“Wouldn’t that require a degree in journalism or something?”
“I mean, if you’re out on the beat reporting, probably, but someone has to write what the anchors read. You wouldn’t believe how much goes into producing a news story. And there’s a lot of turnover, so sometimes they take what they can get.”
She tilted her head back and forth, like it wasn’t the worst idea. “I could be the next Hunter S. Thompson, gonzo journalist.”
I laughed. “I doubt it would be that drug-fueled.” Then again Gary, the associate production editor at my last job, had just gone back to rehab for a cocaine addiction. “Or I guess your mileage may vary. In any case, more glorified stenographer. Never mind, you’re probably overqualified for it.”
“Might be worth considering.”
Here I was, dreaming of ways to get out of the newsroom but pushing her toward it. “On second thought, maybe you should forget I said anything. It’s a stressful job. You’d probably be better off in an air traffic control tower.”
Speaking of stress, I needed to get moving to find out about my own career trajectory. I reluctantly got up and searched for my clothes from last night.
Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, draped in the sheet. “It must be important.”
“It is.” I slipped on my shoes, debating how much to tell her. It would be about the job, probably an offer or else why would Shelby need to see me in person? But even so, I had other options, and it was a decision I needed to make for myself, without factoring in Elizabeth’s expectations, whatever they might be. Before she could think I was the biggest ass of a one-night stand, I handed her my phone. “If you give me your number, I can fill you in later.”
She punched in her contact info, and a second later, her phone buzzed in the other room. I breathed a sigh of relief that at the very least, we wouldn’t lose contact.
I tried to control my tousled hair, but I wasn’t my professional best, especially wearing yesterday’s wrinkled T-shirt and jeans. “How do I look?”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “Damn, if you aren’t the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
She pulled on a robe and followed me to the door where we gave each other a long, lingering gaze. Her blue eyes flashed bright in the morning light, and for a second, it threw me. Surely, her eyes had been brown. I tilted my head, confused, but then I shook it off. My memory wasn’t reliable. I reeled her into a hug. Time had finally run out. This was potentially the last time I’d see her.
“I guess this is goodbye.” She breathed in, like she wanted to imprint her memory with the smell of me. Then she stepped back with one last squeeze of my hand.
I hated to let her go. “I’ll text you later.”
She backed away, giving me my freedom. “I’d like that.”
I stood awkwardly another minute before reluctantly jogging down the steps, waving when I reached the sidewalk, then reversing the trek toward the Downtown Mall.
This wasn’t the most picturesque part of Charlottesville, but I could make out the foothills beyond the rooftops. I’d been excited about the job opening here, so near the Blue Ridge Mountains, so close to where I’d spent my formative years, but now I had memories and visions of the night before with Elizabeth adding an emotional pull to this area.
I shook my head at how quickly the potential of Elizabeth Graham was coloring my decisions, but I needed to look at the big picture before deciding.
The warm weather had held, and it was a pleasant walk to the TV station downtown. Shelby waited in her office, looking like a power player in her slim black suit.
“Ah. Evan. I’m so glad I caught you before you left town.”
I stepped in and shook her well-manicured hand. “No problem. I have a couple of hours still.”
Shelby’s dad owned a tremendously successful vineyard in the nearby county, and from what I’d gathered, she’d used her own wealth to buy this station from the previous owner, re-tooling it to try to make it a financial success. That was part of the reason I predicted she wouldn’t be able to match my salary demands. I’d be a huge investment for such a small market.
“Great. We were impressed with your auditions. We’d like to extend an offer and hope you’ll seriously consider it.” She held out a large envelope. “This contains the terms of the contract, salary, and benefits.”
I pulled the papers out straight away, running my eyes down the sheet to zero in on salary, sighing with disappointment when I landed on the number. The only reason I stayed in television instead of pursuing a less public line of work—where I’d probably be much happier—was to live more comfortably, maybe even earn enough to retire early.
I glanced up at Shelby with a wince. “Is there room for negotiation?”
