Page 31 of Cockpit
“Are you serious?” She just looks at me with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyebrows raised. “Oh my God, you are serious.”
“I was an investigative journalist with WaPo.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. I had a long list of sources that helped me do a lot of digging. Don’t act so surprised.”
“I’m not. I am.” I shake my head. “Why would you ever leave that job?”
“I got married. Had kids. Ended up moving here for a slower life for them. Then we divorced, and I had to go back to work so”—she shrugs—“I ended up here.”
“But why not go back?”
“When you have mouths to feed and want as much time with your kids as possible, sometimes you take less to get more out of life in other ways.” She leans back in her chair and looks out the window to the world beyond before looking my way. “Would I love to be an editor-in-chief of a big glossy magazine? Of course. Anyone in this industry strives for that . . . but, sometimes, you take what you can get, make the best of it, and figure it out from there. Right now, I’m figuring it out from there.”
“Huh. I would have never known.”
An awkward silence falls over our small corner of the office. I turn to my computer and stare at the screen for a beat as inadequacy washes over me. Rissa has way more experience than I do. It’s no wonder she held a bit of resentment toward me coming here.
“So, uh, those sources. If you contacted them about this, can we make sure your ways don’t spread rumors that we’re digging up info on him? The last thing I need is for Grayson to be more pissed off at me than he already is.”
“My source isn’t going to tell anyone. Not unless he wants to be kicked out of my bed permanently, if you know what I mean.”
I cough out a laugh in surprise and blush, her comment so unexpected. “On that note . . .” I chuckle. “I’ll just be getting back to figuring out how to get more advertising while not thinking about you coaxing information about Grayson out of your lover.”
“I’m good at coaxing.” She lifts her brow and shrugs without any shame. I just smile and shake my head as I close my laptop so I can bring all my stuff back to my desk. “You should try it . . . you never know what information you might get out of it.”
“I’ve kept to myself for the most part since I’ve been back.” Not that I’ve been a hermit, but outside of the cautious wave and nod as I pass people, I haven’t interacted much with anyone, let alone considered . . . coaxing someone.
See? It’s easy to lie to myself and completely dismiss all the thigh clenching I do around th
e man in question.
“Girl, that’s no way to live. All work and no play. Coax, Sidney, coax.” Another smile. Another shake of her shoulders in laughter. “Something else my expert coaxing skills netted me—”
“You’re making me want to cover my ears.” I blush and roll my eyes
“That Grayson’s wife, girlfriend, whatever she was to him—Luke’s mom . . . up and left when he was a baby.”
“Really?”
“You have your heartbreak right there.” She nods for emphasis as my eyes widen and his bitterness makes maybe a little more sense. “Add his story with Braden being a widow . . . pit them against each other to win women’s hearts and—”
“It would be a marketing gold mine,” I whisper.
“Bingo.”
“A healthy competition between the two highest-vote-getting contestants . . .” My words trail off as I picture the ad campaign. The graphics. The interviews. The #TeamBraden versus #TeamGrayson tweets and shares.
“That’s the only way it’ll work. We’ve already announced the top twenty, and the other finalists are married . . .”
“I’m sure if Grayson balks, we could handpick another person who fits the bill.”
Her laugh carries again, but this time the sarcasm rings the loudest. “But that’s not what I asked of you, is it? I told you I want you to deliver on Grayson. I want you to prove to me you can problem-solve this and make it work.” I stare at her, afraid to tell her what happened last night. Her sigh resonates. “You want help, but don’t know how to ask, right?”
I take her lead and run with it. “I do need help. How would you handle Grayson? A man who doesn’t like you and wants zero attention? How would you convince him to actively participate, when the last time you saw him, he all but told you to go to hell?”
Or did he in fact tell me that? I’m sure he might have.
