The breath froze in Mabel’s lungs at the suggestion that Jake’s career might be harmed because of her. “H-he didn’t! He didn’t say anything that—”
He cut off her stammered defense. “I know. You weren’t faking that reaction. Just saying, be as pissed at your man candy as you want, but his hands were tied. Now be a darling and hunt down Dave and Skip so you can divvy up the evening shift while we look for a replacement monkey to cover for Tracy.”
He tilted his head toward the door, then turned his attention to his phone. She stood motionless for a long moment, turning Brandon’s words around and around in her mind. Not the asshole stuff about Tracy; she’d deal with that later. But Jakehadtried to tell her, hadn’t he? He’d said something about the requirements of his job, but she’d been too furious to listen. She’d cut him off, and he’d punched a building, and now they were both miserable. Well, she was miserable; she could only hope he was too.
That got her feet moving, and she stumbled out of the office to find Dave. But he was nowhere in the building, and a glance at the parking lot showed his car was missing. Before she turned away, a flash of green caught her eye. Jake’s Jeep.
Weird. All his stuff was gone from the office, and Brandon said he had a new office downtown. But why was his Jeep still here? Unsure what she’d say if she actually found him, she poked her head into the recording studio, the kitchen, the conference room, the advertising suite. No Jake.
She wandered back to the kitchen and leaned against the sink, crossing her arms in thought. Of all the things she had to accomplish today, locating the guy she was pissed at—was she still though?—should take a back seat. She chewed on the last of her remaining nails, which had taken a beating over the stressful few days she’d endured, and reasoned with herself. He was probably fine. He was a grown-up and she wasn’t his mommy. Then again, Jake was new to Beaucoeur. What if he somehow ended up in the wrong part of town? Anything could’ve happened to him: robbery, assault, hit and run. People even got stabbed sometimes, or shot. Was he okay? Should she… No. She shouldn’t text him.
“You are being ridiculous.” She said it out loud, hoping the words would banish the unease in her stomach. No luck though, and she spun out of the room to pace down the hall. Jake’s absence had apparently activated the mutant strain of worry-itis that she’d inherited from her mother. After all, he didn’t know anybody in town, so who else would care enough to look out for him?
Not thatshecared, of course.
“Morning.”
She looked up to see Robbie’s impressive frame wedged behind the front desk. How had she managed to miss him before, looming over his keyboard like a steroidal gargoyle? She pressed pause on her hunt for Jake to talk to the new guy, hoping like hell he’d gotten all the fanboying out of his system after the day before.
“Hi, pal! How’s the first week going?”
Robbie flashed square white teeth the size of domino tiles. “Just trying to stay awake. Jake and I had a wild night last night. Not smart with a new job.”
Mabel stared blankly at him for a beat. “MyJake?” Something flickered in Robbie’s eyes, and she quickly waved her hands in a decisive “no no no” gesture. “NotmyJake. I just mean… the Jake that I know?”Making it worse, Bowen.“Where is he? Is he okay?”
Robbie’s face took on a distinctly pitying look. “He’s fine. He Ubered home. I’m guessing he’s sleeping it off.”
The worry in her stomach dissipated, and she pressed a hand to her chest. “Ah. That explains the Jeep.” Well, so much for any pretense that she didn’t care if Jake lived or died. She did care, way too much. And that wasn’t good.
While she’d been working through every stop on the wheel of emotions, Robbie’s position had shifted to the sympathy head tilt. Did he know the deal with her and Jake? Before she could think better of it, she blurted out, “So did he hook up with anyone last night?”
Good Lord, Robbie’s head now tipped so far to the side in sympathy that his ear was practically resting on his shoulder—impressive for someone with a neck that thick.
“I mean, I’m asking for his sake. He’s new in town, so it would be good for him to meet people, um, outside the station.” She looked heavenward, hoping a stray bolt of lightning would crash through the ceiling to end her time on Earth. “Gah! Forget I asked!”
“He didn’t,” Robbie finally assured her. “It was a big group of guys. He was pretty wrecked by the end of the night.”
She sniffed and refused to feel bad for him.Shewas the victim here, not Jake and his cold accountant’s heart and his frustrating accountant’s code of ethics.
Robbie shifted in his seat, then cleared his throat. “Hey, so do you know how this fax machine works? Apparently Brandon’s father prefers his financial updates via hard copy, not emails.”
Grateful for his change of subject, Mabel came around the desk to help the least likely receptionist in the universe get acclimated to the WNCB way of life.
The week had moved too quickly.Mabel kept telling herself to cling to the memories and savor every moment and other Pinterest-worthy clichés, but despite her best efforts at slowing time, here it was Friday, her last day on the air with Dave. They’d spent the week gamely pitching the changes, pitching the Brick Babes, pitching the Jamaica trip, pitching her new afternoon gig. My God, had they been cheerful. Perky. Downright chipper. The unsuspecting listener would never have an inkling about the eye rolling and vomit faces happening behind the microphones.
On Friday, Mabel arrived at work at five a.m., a little earlier than usual, only to find that Dave was already there and with a box of still-warm donuts, no less.
“You, I may or may not miss,” she told him. “Your delivery of early-morning breakfast pastries? That I’ll miss.” She selected a strawberry fritter dripping with thin white icing.
“Such a pastry slut.” Dave folded her, sticky fritter fingers and all, into a quick hug. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. Neither of us is being shipped overseas. We’ll still be working in the same actual building.”
She nodded and took a bite of her now slightly smushed pastry. She wanted to believe Dave, but her private fears were too loud. This split was actually going to work well for the station. Dave would thrive in a show with a rotating cast of hot cohosts while she settled into a new afternoon-drive routine all alone. Alone at work, alone at home, alone forever. Poor lonely Mabel.
Sadness threatened, so she selected a cream-filled long John and ate her feelings.
And then they did their last show. They laughed all the way through it, teasing, bantering, and taking occasional phone calls from listeners excited about the upcoming changes. Even That Arrogant Asshole would have to admit that they’d been the perfect corporate drones for him.
In no time, a slightly bewildered Mabel was thanking the listeners for five amazing years, telling Dave she loved him, and instructing them all to tune in at four p.m. starting Monday.
