“I was told they wanted someone younger, trendier. More perky. Those were literally his words, snapping his fingers to emphasize them.” I snap one set of mine as I explain.
Lex’s eyes dipped to my breasts. There’s nothing wrong with my breasts, I remember thinking. They’re perky . . . enough. And to prove my point, I sat up straighter, adjusting my back to thrust said breasts forward in my tight-fitting sweater. See perky. But Lex looked away.
“My boss said my airtime wasn’t getting the same ratings as it once did. To which I suggested perhaps they needed new material. People were getting tired of the scandalized bits of the rich and famous. They wanted more heart behind their celebrities. Not just the nasty parts.”
My business was other people’s business, and I worked hard to prove myself for two decades in an unforgiving industry. But I was growing weary myself of the constant negativity. The failed marriages. The drug issues. The malignant behavior. I’d been making suggestions for a new twist for years and getting turned down with each special interest story. How many times can you hear about Brad Smoltz dissing Jennifer Allister before you just don’t care? It’s over. Move on. Tell me more about Sally Superstar and the twenty million kids she’s adopted, homeschooled, and drags around the world doing philanthropy work while still winning Academy Awards. There’s a role model, sort of. There’s a reason Princess Diana was such a hit in her day. People want the soul of a star not all their shit.
“I was told outright I was too old for the position.”
“Excuse me?” There was no way I could have heard Lex correctly. “I’m forty-two.”
“Past your prime.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. What does that even mean?”
According to Glimmer Magazine, I’ve just entered my prime. Wasn’t Lex aware that forty was the new twenty? I was seasoned. I was wise. I was entering a new phase of my life that would bring me renewed energy, increased libido, and a zero-fucks attitude. I wasn’t old. I was goddamn tired.
“Lex, my boss, was happy to point out all my flaws. A little sag here.” I mimic Lex’s voice while I tug at the loose skin under my eyes.
“A crinkle too many here,” I mock of him again as I point at my temple.
“And then, he insulted my breasts.” Lex’s eyes simply dipped to them.
Bull chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Then he tried to argue that he defended me. If I only had a few surgeries—”
“Surgeries,” Bull interjects, aghast. “You’re fucking perfect. Are they blind?”
I chuckle at his strong admonition of my former employer while my face heats at the compliment. No one has ever called me perfect.
“A boob job and Botox, and I’d get to continue working for them.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Bull states. “You know that, right?” His voice shifts, dropping stern as he squeezes his arm where I’m looped through it.
“Yeah, well, it’s a man’s world in some manners. I wanted to ask Lex if he’d looked in the mirror lately and noticed his receding hairline.” I bit back the insult at the time. Unfortunately, parts of the industry were still an ol’ boys’ club. Special handshakes. Pats on the back. And blind eyes especially when it came to men looking at one another’s behavior.
“Unfortunately, it was the same day I found out about Shelton, my husband, and his affair.”
“That’s awful, sweetheart,” Bull sighs beside me, and I narrow my eyes, keeping my focus straight ahead as we walk.
“Like everything else in the last few months, I guess I’ve taken it as a sign that change was inevitable.” Unfortunately, there has been a lot of change all at once.
“Was that the type of reporter you wanted to be? A gossip journalist or whatever they call it.” Bull’s voice strains as he asks.
“I went to school to be a reporter because I wanted to share editorials and interviews like Barbara Walters. Somehow I ended up with KTEL instead.”
“I’m not familiar with KTEL,” Bull admits.
“Well, it’s for the best.” I wave a dismissive hand. “The show I worked on was an entertainment rag as Canyon so eloquently put it.” My eyes squint in the dark, gazing off toward the distance before us. There’s a peacefulness here, a stillness unlike city life. The only sound is the crunch of gravel under our feet.
“Will you look for another job? Be a different kind of reporter?” Bull asks.
“I have a job,” I tease, although pouring coffee isn’t really a career move for me. I’m also terrible at being a barista, so I don’t see it as long term. However, I do like the place, and I adore Audrey, Zara, and Roddy. In general, I really like Vermont. “But in answer to your question, I just don’t know. I’m stumbling over every step right now as there have been so many changes at once.”
Bull nods. “Was it satisfying?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you like your former job?”
Staring off in the distance again, I take a minute to consider my answer before I speak. “I was good at what I did. I’m a reporter. But did I always feel good about my job? The truth is, I didn’t. It wasn’t always pleasant information we shared, and some of it wasn’t even true. It was more sensationalism, for ratings and rank.” I snap my fingers again like Lex used to do.
“As I told your niece, I haven’t been looking for anything. Maybe I should reach out to people I know, though, see if anything is available. I’m going to need more of an income eventually. The longer I’m out of the industry the less likely I’ll be able to re-enter it. But I’m also in quite a predicament at the moment. Not certain an industry that fires women at forty-two wants to hire a pregnant forty-two-year-old.”
Bull huffs to agree.
“I’m content where I am for now,” I say, giving his arm a squeeze.
“For now.” Bull nods but remains quiet. Tipping my head to his arm, we walk the rest of the way in silence, but my thoughts are loud. I don’t know that I want to return to the entertainment industry. I feel a bit betrayed from the years of commitment, the dedication to the network, and the way I was so easily tossed aside. However, I can’t rely on my savings for everything. Eventually, I’ll need to work.
“You know, you can rely on me, Scarlett. I’m willing to pull my fair share with the baby when the time comes.” He’s talking finances, and I guess it’s a sweet enough gesture, but I don’t want Bull’s money.
Once we’re back at Bull’s home, we fall into our nightly routine of circling one another for the bathroom. I hear the door open and decide to tell Bull one more thing before I head to bed, only I’m stopped in my tracks, forgetting what I intend to say as he stands just outside the bathroom door with only a towel, wrapped around his middle. Hanging low enough to expose a trail of hair leading lower, I swallow hard knowing well what’s under that terrycloth material. My hands clutch at the door jamb, holding myself steady as my mouth dries. He has such an incredible body, lean and firm from labor on this land. A smattering of hair curls over his pecs and a tattoo circles one bicep.
“Did you need something?” Bull points over his shoulder with his thumb, suggesting the bathroom. What I need is to enter the shower with him and wash away my dirty thoughts while we clean each other’s bodies. I blink as he steps closer to my room, his presence filling up the hallway and all the oxygen I need to breathe.