“Yeah?”
“Yeah, so that means this guy also was unexpected. He comes from a sister station, and I called around. He’s no-nonsense. He was a producer, and now he’s been upgraded to EP. All big shot now with his Boston accent—‘pahk the cah’ or whatever.” Jerry stops to take in a much-needed breath, his face starting to turn red. “You know what this means, right?”
“I don’t think I follow,” I say, in all honesty.
“He’s getting an upgrade coming here. A big one.”
“So?”
“So?” he says, mocking me. “So he’ll have something to prove.”
“Right,” I say. “And that means he’ll be changing a lot of things.”
“Including getting rid of—”
“I got it, Jer,” I say, holding my hand up to stop him. We don’t need to say the words. People with viral videos that give the station a bad name are probably going to be at the top of his list.
I feel sick.
“He hasn’t had a chance to study talent here before starting since it all happened so fast, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jerry says, using a tone that’s unfamiliar to me. Wait . . . was that positivity? It feels odd coming from Jerry. Almost wrong.
“I’m confused. Am I or am I not going to lose my job?”
“You’ll probably lose your job,” he says, bobbing his head up and down.
And there’s the negativity I’ve come to know—and not love—from Jerry.
“What I’m saying is, he hasn’t had a chance to study all of us, to look us up. So you have a window here. You have to win him over before he Googles you.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Lift that chin up. Shoulders back, stand up straight. Use that girlie charm of yours.”
“I’m not sure charm is going to get me out of this.”
“Probably not,” Jerry says. Well, at least he’s not blowing sunshine at me.
“What’s he like?” I ask, not being able to help myself.
“You’re about to find out.”
“What? Now?”
“Yep. You and Parker. And weather girl.”
“Josie?”
“Yeah, her.”
I scrunch my nose at Jerry. He’s such a pompous butt, he can’t even be bothered to learn the name of the meteorologist. Granted, we’ve gone through a couple recently. But still. You’d think he’d try. He produces the show she’s on, for crap’s sake.
I stand up and follow Jerry through the newsroom and over toward the hall that leads to all the management offices. He takes me to a meeting room that I haven’t spent much time in. It’s on the smaller end and probably more used for extra office space.
Dwayne is there; he’s facing me, and so are a couple of other producers. The new guy—or who I’m assuming is the new guy—has his back toward the entrance. His posture is rigid, his white dress shirt slightly wrinkled in the back.
Parker and Josie are already seated, and their eyes meet mine and Jerry’s as we enter and sit down next to them. Parker gives me a broad smile.
The group of executives talks in low voices and murmurs, and I can’t catch enough of the words to piece anything together. It only sounds like low mumbling.
Jerry, not one to want to sit around, clears his throat, and the low rumble of the talking stops.
“Hello, everyone,” Dwayne says as if he were just realizing that we were there. His voice is deep and rich and fills all the corners of the meeting room.
The new guy—my new boss and probably the man that will be the end of my career here at Channel 4—turns slowly.
My eyes go wide and my stomach drops when I see who it is. My heart starts to race, skipping over beats as it goes. This doesn’t make any sense. How is he here? Why is he here?
“You may have heard that Tim Walstrom has left us and I’m now your ND,” Dwayne says, not even noticing that I’m about to have a straight-up panic attack. “We’ve had to scramble to fill the EP position, but it just so happens we had someone in the network that will do the job well. Everyone, I’d like to introduce Henry Pierce. Our new executive producer.”
Dark-brown hair. Blue eyes that had been looking at Dwayne now look around the room and land squarely on me.
Not from up north. Not a Boston accent. It’s Henry. Henry that I choked on a powdered sugar donut in front of not even a week ago. Henry that kissed me outside my apartment complex the other night. Henry that I just sat across from last night, sharing secrets with. Henry. I’m so confused, I sort of feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. None of this makes any sense.
From the look in Henry’s eyes, it appears he’s having the same feelings. Which makes more sense because he has no idea why I’m sitting here; I’m supposed to be sanding down the door of a cabinet right now.
I see the second that Henry realizes he’s staring at me. He blinks in rapid succession and turns his head toward Dwayne, who’s been telling him our names and a bit of our history. I don’t even know what Dwayne is saying right now. His words are all muffled to me like I’m swimming underwater.
My ears start to come to when I hear Henry say, “Thank you,” in his baritone British voice. “I’m looking forward to getting to know . . . all . . . all of you.” He stumbles over his words, clearly flustered.
I see Jerry looking at me in my peripheral vision. He nudges me with his elbow. “Why do you look like you’re about to puke?” he whispers in my ear.
I shake my head slowly, imperceptibly, my eyes unable to move away from Henry, my brain unable to make sense of anything. I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten how to blink.
Henry is here. At the station. He’s my new boss. I don’t understand.
“I’m sure you all have a lot of questions. I know . . . I do,” Henry says. His eyes move briefly to mine and then blink again. He looks away from me. “I’m . . . uh . . . excited to be working for KCFL. This was an unexpected change for all of us. But I’m looking forward to getting to know each of you. And . . . well, I s’pose that’s all for now.” He smiles nervously and reaches up to rub the back of his neck.
“Okay,” Dwayne says. “We can fill you in more after you’re done with midday. Jerry, make sure you set up time for everyone to meet with Henry separately.”
Jerry nods, and we file out of the meeting room. My mind is whirling, I have so many questions. And I need answers. I’m supposed to do the news in less than half an hour and I don’t even have time to get my bearings—to make sense of everything. How could either of us not have pieced any of this together before? I know Henry had a contract, and I . . . well I had my reasons. But . . . how?
“Uh, before you go,” Henry says just as I’m about to exit the room. “Can I have a word with, uh . . . Quinn?” He gestures toward me with his hand as if he were guessing my name, as if he doesn’t know me.
Jerry cusses under his breath. “Uh-oh,” he says in my ear.
I know what Jerry’s thinking. He thinks Henry has already seen my viral video and wants to talk to me about it. He thinks I’m in trouble. I am in trouble. But not for that. For a whole other reason.