The clattering buzz of Jake’s phone yanked him out of his numbers hypnosis, and he blinked at the time on the screen when he slid his thumb across it to answer. How was it after seven already?
“Hey, man. What’s up?”
Everybody had a friend who preferred to call instead of text. For Jake, that was Milo Markowitz, college-buddy-turned-corporate-legal-counsel for a Chicago imports company.
“My dude! You up for dinner?”
Jake shook his head. “Seriously? I’m in Beaucoeur. I’ve been down here for almost a month.” And he hadn’t even made a dent in the station’s fucked-up files or all of Brandon’s special projects, which was why he was still hunkered down in his temporary office instead of enjoying the marginal comforts of his hotel.
“Huh. I could’ve sworn you said you’d be done by now.”
Jake laughed grimly. “Not even close. I’m here until the media company’s done with me. They’ve got me going through all kinds of shit I’ve never analyzed before. Audience shares, ratings numbers for their stations across the country, putting together how it all relates to ad revenue. It’ll be a few more months at least.”
Not that he was counting or anything. Beaucoeur was fine for a downstate city, but he’d run back to Chicago that same day if he got the call to come home. He’d just prefer to do it with a partner plaque on his office door.
Milo grumbled. “Well, now I have to find some willing woman to be my Friday-night dining partner.”
“Riiiiight,” Jake said. Milo, with his wildly curly hair and pretty-boy face, never had trouble finding a date. “I’m pretty sure you won’t be eating the Purple Pig’s chorizo alone tonight.”
“No doubt,” Milo said. “And if you’re going to be gone from the mahogany halls of Black, Phelps, and Suarez for much longer, maybe I’ll have to visit you. Bring a little culture to the sticks.”
Jake wasn’t sure what culture Milo claimed to possess other than an encyclopedic knowledge of baseball stats and a deep, abiding love of Greek food and beautiful women. Still, he’d welcome a visit from his buddy. “Sounds great. Pick your weekend.”
Milo rang off with a vague promise of “soon,” no doubt already thumbing through his mental Rolodex for an evening chorizo companion. Jake, meanwhile, had at least two more hours of work to do before he was comfortable knocking off for the night, and a tiny bit more coffee might help him cross the finish line. At this time of night, he was the only one in the station other than the Goth-y overnight deejay who drifted silently around the darkened hallways during her shift like the ghost girl fromThe Ring.She’d scared the shit out of him the first time he bumped into her after hours, and he peered cautiously down the hall to make sure he wasn’t in danger of her sneaking up on him again tonight.
The coast was clear, so he made for the kitchen. Other than spooky Tracy, he enjoyed working at the station after dark, with nothing but the low hum of the broadcast from the wall speakers to disturb him. But once he reached the coffeepot, rows of phantom numbers obscured the water-stained surface of the machine, and he rubbed his eyes. In some ways, Beaucoeur was no different from Chicago. His office wasn’t as swank, and his mattress wasn’t as comfortable, but his days focusing on spreadsheets to the exclusion of the people around him were the same, as were his long hours, late-night caffeine intake, and rushed, solitary dinners before he fell into bed to do it all over again the next day.
“Can you make it pour with your mind?”
Mabel’s amused faux whisper snapped him out of his trance, and his stomach clenched. “Yes. It’s the first thing they teach us in business school.” God, since when did he tell dad jokes? He was hopeless.
She brushed past him to reach for the carafe. “Well, at my college radio station, we only learned how to tap a keg, so let’s handle this the old-fashioned way. May I?”
The fancy-garden scent of her hair mingled with the smell of coffee as she extended the pot toward him, and he held out his mug for her to top off. They’d fallen into this routine over the past several weeks. Exchanging pleasantries in the hall, which often stretched into short conversations that left him with a dry mouth and damp palms. Chatting over coffee as he floated up out of his body to watch with a mix of horror and amusement as he tripped over his own words.
It was fair to say that the lovely Mabel had him totally flustered.
“Are you telling me you can drink coffee this late and still function tomorrow?” she asked as she poured.
“Cast iron.” Her eyes tracked his movements as he patted his stomach. At this point in the day, the coffee tasted like lukewarm hate, but he swallowed a mouthful anyway, in part to have something to do with his hands, which suddenly felt awkward at the ends of his arms. “What brings you by the station tonight?”
A date? Had she been on a date?
“Where else would I be on a Friday night?” She gestured around the kitchen with the pot before returning it to the machine. “Actually, I was almost all the way home from book club with a few girlfriends when I realized I’d forgotten something.”
She spun in a swirl of blond hair and floaty skirts to rummage through the refrigerator as that fucking bell clanged in his head again.Single. She hadn’t been on a date, and other than the nightside deejay, it was just the two of them alone in the station right now. His heart tripped at the idea as she wheeled back around with a yellow-and-white-striped box in her hand and reverence on her face.
When she lifted the lid with a flourish, he asked, “Cupcakes?”
“Thebestcupcakes,” she said. “One of the ad reps brought them back from the Cakery, and I meant to grab them on my way out today.”
“The best, huh?” The desserts reminded him of home, and he slid his phone from his pocket and pulled up his camera app. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” She posed like a game show host, flashing her pearly whites as she displayed the box and its contents.
Once he’d captured the shot, she set the box on the break room table and downed half a chocolate cupcake before he’d finished sending his text.
“Heaven!” she crooned around her mouthful. After she chewed and swallowed, she pointed. “Help yourself.”
