Page 3 of Ten Rules for Faking It
Calls started coming into the station almost immediately. Typically, it was Everly’s job to screen the callers, but the phone lines lit up like a Christmas tree and she couldn’t keep up. They ignored them for the time being while Stacey tried to laugh off sharing her producer’s personal drama. Everly hoped that was the end of it. Just another thing about the day to forget.
Hopes of the wish coming true vanished when the station manager came into the deejay booth. Through the glass, his eyes locked on Everly’s, tipping her stomach upside down. Her stomach always went a little weird around him. Nerves, most likely, since she didn’t think he liked her all that much. Today probably lowered his opinion.
Walking forward, his lips pressed together in a tight line, he pushed open the door. With his broad shoulders, assessing gaze, and the light scent of his cologne, he filled the space without even trying. Everly swiveled in her chair, her heart jumping around like a kitten who’d gotten his tail caught.
“Mr. Jansen. This is a surprise. Good morning,” she said. Yup. Total peanut butter mouth. Sweat beaded along her hairline. He wasn’t particularly friendly to her on a good day, and as she’d already established to thousands of listeners, today was not one of those. Everly didn’t know what she’d done to rubhim the wrong way, but since his arrival at the station less than a year ago, he’d kept his distance. With others, he laughed and joked and seemed like a regular guy in addition to a boss. With her, he took off his cloak of approachability, offering a nod in passing or being as succinct as possible if he had to speak to her about something work related.
“Is it? I’m surprised you think so after the morning you’ve had,” he said, his voice quiet. He wore his light brown hair perfectly trimmed and styled in a way that made it seem purposely tousled. It probably took him way too long to make it just right.Good God, focus.Maybe he wanted to say happy birthday. A bubble of nervous laughter fought to escape. The fire blazing in his hard-to-identify-the-exact-shade-of-green eyes suggested otherwise.
“Uh… you heard?”Why would you ask a question you know the answer to? As if you haven’t made yourself sound dumb enough. Great follow-up.If only invisibility shields were real, she could disappear right now. Slip away to somewhere else. Anywhere else.
When he straightened, his perfectly tailored, coal-black suit jacket moved easily with his body, showing not only the quality but his ease. She tried not to look. But clearly her eyes were dumb.
When she glanced up, she saw something that looked a lot like sympathy in his gaze. “Yes, I heard, Ms. Dean.Everyoneheard. We’re being inundated with calls.”
If a sinkhole opened up under her rolling chair, she would not have been disappointed. When, after a beat, it didn’t, she stared at the wall just beyond him. If she didn’t want to talk about her lousy morning with her friend or their loyal listeners, she definitely didn’t want to talk to the by-the-book station manager about it. Especially when he usually went out of his way tonottalk to her.
“You should go.”
Her eyes snapped up to his. “What?”No. No. No.
“Go home. Take the day. You don’t need to be answering the phone and fielding these calls. Consider it a birthday present.”
She stiffened. “I don’t want presents.”
One side of his mouth tipped up. “I heard that, too.”
Stacey burst into the room. “It’s not her fault. Don’t send her home. Please, Chris.”
He turned, glanced at Stacey. “I got that. But I can’t send the voice of the show home, can I? We’ll let the calls go to voice-mail, but in the future? Your job description does not include personal shout-outs to your friends. Or singing live.”
If a person could burst into flames from embarrassment, Everly would have lit the station on fire. Instead, she stood up, knocking her chair, making it roll across the linoleum. She hated the awkward tension that hung in the room. If she left, she could crawl into bed and wait for the day to be over.
“Stace, it’s fine. I’ll go home.” She looked at her boss. “You’re not going to fire me or something, right?”
She couldn’t lose her job. It was herthing.She sucked at crafting and couldn’t stand running. She had no patience for the adult coloring craze, so that was out. She didn’t mind jotting her thoughts down in journals, but it wasn’t something she’d call a hobby. Work was where she excelled. But nothing was ever written in stone. The station had been undergoing programming and staffing changes for the last couple of years. Chris was one of three new managers they’d had since Everly had accepted her position. The numbers for their show weren’t great, but they had a following.
She met his gaze, refusing to back down. Everly couldn’t leave wondering what would happen next. She hated not knowing.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed deeply. “Not to my knowledge, Ms. Dean. Just go home, do something for yourself. Hopefully, the attention from this will fade away by tomorrow and it’ll be a normal day.”
Ms. Dean.He was so damn professional and standoffish with her. What had she ever done to him?
“I’ll apologize to the audience again. Just let her stay,” Stacey said.
He looked back at Everly, and she thought she saw his eyes soften for a split second. His voice was anything but soft when he said, “This is for the best. I’ll contact you.”
Everly nodded and gathered her purse and lunch bag, wishing she’d never gotten out of bed this morning. As she walked down the thirteen stairs, her boss watching from the top landing, she decided this birthday was now a definite ten. At age thirty, she finally reached maximum suckage.
[2]
Technically, she’d accomplished rule three by heading home for her birthday. As she walked up the path to the converted mansion where she rented an apartment, the front door opened. There were four units in the house, two on the top and two on the bottom. With only four homes, the neighbors knew each other’s basic statistics, but none of them hung out together or anything.
The woman from unit 4, Shannyn, and daughter, Lexie, held hands. Everly was ready to nod and wave—her standard greeting of choice, but Shannyn’s gaze caught hers, and Everly’s stomach sank.
Her neighbor’s eyes darted right and left, then landed back on Everly. “Sorry about… about your day.”
Everly smiled too brightly, trying to tell herself it was great that people listened to the show. Meanwhile, her skin started to itch. “Thanks.”
