Page 6 of Wrong Car, Wright Guy
Ruby
Asea of faces I barely know assembles in the meeting room. Radio is a twenty-four-hour gig, so there’s a lot of staff coming and going, starting work at different times of the day. I’ve been on the breakfast show since I started here, so I’ve rarely stayed at the station long enough to mingle with the evening shift. Maybe I’ve seen a few in passing, perhaps chatted to them at the station’s Christmas party, but ultimately this is an entirely new group of people to me. I’m starting at zero again, which sucks because the breakfast show understands—and some have possibly come to love—my quirky sense of humor. I’m not an easily liked person.
Spotting a vacant chair, I sit down and smile at the woman next to me. I vaguely remember seeing a picture of her around here somewhere. I think she’s a news presenter, and she confirms as much once my butt touches the chair. “You look new. I’m Rayleigh, the newsreader onThe Drive Home.” She holds out her hand, and I take a little too long to shake it because I’m fairly sure my palms are sweaty and don’t want to gross her out. With a surreptitious wipe of my hand against the leg of my jeans, I insert it in hers.
“Ruby. I’m a board—I mean, I’m the, ah, personal assistant for what’s-his-face.”
Her eyes light up. “To Mr. Wright? Oh gosh. I can’t wait to meet him. Is he as brilliant in real life as he is on-air?” she gushes. “I am ahugefan.”
I blink a couple of times, wondering how anyone can be a big fan of a hate spreader, then I give her a straight-lipped smile and shake my head. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t met him yet.”
“But…you’re his PA. Didn’t you comewithhim?”
“Nope.” I pop the P, once again shaking my head.
“How can younotknow who Tanner Wright is? Wright Media? He’s the heir to a media empire, but he works in radio to stick it to his parents or something. Total badass. Totally gorgeous, too. He was voted sexiest man alive last year.”
“Sexiest man alive? By who?”
“The internet.”
“The entire internet?”
She shrugs. “I guess.”
“But, I’m on the internet and I don’t even know who he is.”
“It was a Buzzfeed poll or something,” she says dismissively. “And if you don’t know what Buzzfeed is, you obviously aren’t on the internet enough.”
I slide down in my chair and turn away. Consider me schooled.
“He’s here!”
The entire room holds a collective breath as they turn to the door. I swear it’s like we’re waiting for the queen to walk into the room and knight us all, except it’s just some asshole who doesn’t have a filter and is supposed to save our station with his bullshit. I hate that I’m here. But I won’t lie and say I’m not interested in seeing who this guy is. When Rayleigh made the observation that I’m not on the internet enough, she wasn’t wrong. I hate the thing, and use it as little as possible. I have no social media, and the only reason I’m even online is because my cell plan comes with data. I use it for email and Spotify, and that’s about it. Spotify is actually how I researched Tanner Wright’s past shows, but now I’m thinking I should have thought to Google the guy too. But ‘Googling’ someone sounds a little too personal and invasive. I prefer to judge people based on their actions, which is why I’m judging Mr. Wright based on his commentary since it came directly from his mouth and not from some piecemeal article.
Voices approach, and at first, I can only see Mr. Brooks. He’s such a large man that he fills up the vast majority of the door frame, so we’re all craning our necks trying to see around him. He’s still talking as he enters, assuring Tanner Wright his new team is the best the station has to offer.
While I wait for the man of the moment to come into view, I try to figure out how I managed to get here. Selecting some obscure board operator with zero PA experience doesn’t make any sense. Who in their right mind would decide to do something like that? And the fact this guy knew to ask for me by name makes it even more perplexing. But when Mr. Brooks moves to the side, everything becomes clear.
Tanner Wright is tall, broad and blond with hair messed up in a way that looks like he just had sex. The only thing missing is a rumpled suit… and a scratched-up Porsche.
My breathing ceases to be a natural function of my body as my heart thumps wildly against my chest like a baby wielding a hammer. I perch on the edge of my seat, not sure if I should run or play it cool. My mouth might never return to its previously closed position, and when I die from oxygen deprivation—or from choking on a fly—my face is going to be frozen like this forever. My parents will be forced to have a closed casket funeral, and there’ll be rumors circling the community that I was doing something very unwholesome when I passed for my mouth to be open like that. Mrs. Ipswich, who’s my mother’s closest frenemy, willcomfortmy mother by telling her, “It could have been worse. She could haveclosedher mouth at the end.” And then my mother will wail and cry, “Why? Why did Ruby have to die with a dick in her mouth?” And it will just be a mess.
I’m quick to close my mouth.
“That man is hotter than Hades,” Rayleigh whispers near my ear. “If he’s single, I’m calling dibs, so don’t stand in my way.”
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t,” I squeak, too busy trying to wrap my head around the fact that Tanner Wright isn’t just any guy. He’s the dick and balls man; the guy whose hood I dragged my key over.He’s Rumpled-Sexy-Skin!
In my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have imagined this scenario playing out when I came into work this morning. What are the odds that the owner of the car I defiled justhappensto be the station’s new talent? I don’t know what they are, but I can assure you, I’d have a higher chance of winning Powerball—if I could afford to purchase a ticket.
One thing’s for sure, I am in deep, deep shit.Wait. Is this his version of payback?
“Good afternoon, everyone. I’d like you all to meet Tanner Wright,” Mr. Brooks booms, gesturing toward the dreamy, beautiful, nightmare man.
I’m still trying to come up with an exit plan when the show’s producer stands up and introduces himself. “I’m Terry, Mr. Wright. We spoke on the phone.”
“Ah, yes. Nice to put a face to the voice. And Tanner is fine, please,” he says as if he’s some non-pretentious guy who doesn’t own a ridiculously pretentious car and start arguments for fun.
