Page 37 of Bless This Hot Mess

With their gaze firmly on the screen, Carrington replied smoothly, “Your contract.”

“Can I see it?” Ronald leaned over the desk.

“When… I’m… done,” Carrington replied in a slow, deliberate cadence, finishing the last keystrokes with a flourish. “I’m done.”

A beat later, they ripped the paper from the printer with dramatic flair, gave it a shuffle and a staple, pushed off the filing cabinet to roll back toward Ronald on their office chair and handed over the contract. He took it eagerly, eyes widening as he scanned the numbers.

“Wait, this is what I make a week?! This is incredible!” Ronald’s grin grew impossibly wider.

Carrington leaned forward, a satisfied smirk playing on their lips, “That’s what you make per day, honey. You’re cute. I’m single. I gave you a raise.”

Ronald blinked, “I haven’t even started yet.”

Carrington’s eyes twinkled, “You gave me a raise, so I gave one to you.”

He laughed, incredulous, “I gave you a… ha! Nice! Wait, you can do that?”

With a little shrug, Carrington replied with calm confidence, “What you’ll learn very soon, you fun-sized Shaquille O’Neal, is that I can doanything. And I have to doeverythingaround here to keep the money moving–in and out. Invoices, outvoices. That’s how a successful radio station works.” Carrington winked, “If you wear shorts tomorrow, I’ll give you a cash per diem for lunch and vacation days for Hanukkah and Christmas.”

Ronald chuckled, still reeling from the absurd number on his contract and imagining all the new gadgets he could buy for his boat, “But I’m not Jewish… I’m agnostic.”

Carrington’s eyes flicked downward, then back up, clearly teasing, “Could’ve fooled me with those tight jeans.”

Ronald looked down, then up again, unsure how to respond, “Is this… appropriate?”

Carrington’s smile widened, pure playfulness dancing in their eyes, “It’s not inappropriate… yet. I’m on Christian Mingle, find me.”

Ronald grinned, not believing his two strokes of good luck, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Carrington replied with a wink. “Now, go on. Get ready for your big debut. The mic waits for no one, so you betta be on it. Knock it down, lumberjack style.”

Ronald couldn’t help but smile. WWJD was shaping up to be… interesting. He leaned casually on Carrington’s desk to flex his triceps unnecessarily but impressively and threw them one last wink before his attention drifted to the lobby speakers. A smooth-voiced DJ on the air broke through the final chords of the Gregorian chant and the romantic tension that had built up in reception.

“You’re listening to WWJD in Greater Napanee and remember, our listener radio-thon is still on! We’re thirty-six hours and forty-nine thousand and thirty-seven dollars away from hitting our crucial goal of fifty-thousand dollars to stay on the air. Call now, we accept credit cards, cheques, and of course, cash. We have a big gap to fill but we know we can count on you, Greater Napanee! Be generous and consider WWJD, What Would Jesus Do?”

The radio-thon announcement hung in the air as the lobby bells chimed. Rebekkah and Japheth burst through thedoor, babbling and bubbling with anticipation of planning their first show.

“Can you believe it, Japheth?” Rebekkah’s voice was practically a squeal, “We’ve talked about singing a song or doing an interview on WWJD for years, and today, look at us! Ourownshow! Well, our own show with…”

“Ronald! You’re already here!” Japheth cut in, his eyes landing on the very close but not quite cuddling radio receptionist and their bandmate.

Ronald gave a nod, leaning back against the desk with a lazy grin, “Oh hey, Geppetto.”

“Japheth,” Japheth corrected politely.

“Sorry,” Ronald shrugged, completely unbothered, “I get mixed up with weird White names.”

“It’s actually…” Japheth started again, but Carrington interrupted smoothly.

“R&J!” Carrington’s eyes sparkled as they greeted the duo, “How are you? Or should I say, how are youthree? Is it official? Is Trinity on the road to being the next Jars of Clay?”

Rebekkah squealed, her whole body buzzing with excitement, “Eeeee! Can youimagine?”

Carrington tilted their head with mock seriousness, “I’m not sure we’ll hit double platinum in record sales, but fingers crossed for you!”

“What’s a jar of clay?” Ronald asked, puzzled at what archaeology had to do with them.

“Oh! Ha! He’s joking, he’stotally joking,” Japheth jumped in, nerves pushing his voice up an octave.