Aubrey winced. That was a little more combative than he’d meant to be, but he couldn’t take it back now.
His mother sighed. “For God’s sake, Aubrey. Just tell me if you’re coming. Your father and I would like to see you.”
“Sorry, I don’t think so. The NHL plays until the twenty-third. I’ll probably have a game to cover.”
“Fine,” she said, her tone frosty. “Was that so hard?”
Aubrey gritted his teeth. He’d even reminded her about his new job, which was starting today, and she couldn’t take two seconds to wish him luck? “I’ve got to go, Mom. I’m needed on set. Unless there was something else?”
“No, that was all.” She sounded resigned. At least he wasn’t the only one. “Goodbye, Aubrey.”
The call disconnected before he could say anything else. “Goodbye,” he said to dead air, fighting the urge to bang his head against the wall. Next time she called, maybe he could do that instead. It would be less painful.
For now, though, he had a job to do. He summoned all the good cheer he could muster and headed toward the sound stage. His mother might consider him beneath her notice, but Aubrey could get the attention he thrived on elsewhere. All he had to do was show up and be charming. And charm was something that came very naturally to him—as long as his mother wasn’t around to see it.
Chapter One
NATE TIPPEDhis driver extra; the guy had made it from O’Hare in record time. He sidestepped around the office workers in the plaza like they were opposing defenders and entered the enormous revolving door as the big lobby clock struck the hour. It almost felt like beating the buzzer—he was going to just barely make it in time for makeup and a brief rundown, but barely was good enough and far better than he’d hoped, after spending an hour waiting for a gate at the airport. The stress of being late—Nate hated tardiness in himself as much as in others—was only eclipsed by the situation at the network.
“Don’t worry about it; it’s handled,” Jess had told him in their too-brief call before the flight took off. That didn’t make him feel better. The few subsequent messages they exchanged during the flight hadn’t helped, especially as it felt like he was also getting texts from everyone he’d ever met—all variations of the theme:So what the hell is up with John Plum?Not that he’d answered. Nate had already gotten a very firm, if unnecessary, voicemail form his agent that he should not, under penalty of torture, say anything but “no comment” about the situation.
What would he even say?Sorry my cohost is a xenophobic misogynist douchebag with no control over his basest impulses?Silence was the better part of valor.
“You’re late,” Gina the PA told him, falling into step next to him as he beelined for Makeup. “I sent a rundown of tonight’s show to your phone. You have time to look at it?”
Nate shook his head. “It died halfway through the flight. Too much Candy Crush. Forgot the charging cord in my hotel room.” He glanced around as they walked. “Is Jess around? She told me not to worry, but—”
“Yeah, on second thought, maybe I better let her tell you in person. I think she’s with—uh.” Gina pasted on a smile. Good thing her work was mostly behind the camera, because she didn’t convince Nate. “You know what? I’ll just go tell her to find you.”
That didn’t inspire confidence, but Nate didn’t have a lot of time to argue. He had a call in… well, basically now. “All right,” he agreed, but Gina was already scampering down the hallway, talking on her headset.
Jess didn’t come in while he was in Makeup, and the usual chatter was suspiciously free of office gossip and sports talk, focusing exclusively on the relative merits of different varieties of Girl Scout cookies. Nate happily shared his opinion (Samoas best, the peanut butter ones disappointing), but he found it weird that no one was even referring to the elephant that was no longer in the room, and that made him feel wrong-footed. Someone had passed him a portable charger for his phone, so he was able to read through the rundown he was now expected to do by himself. It might be a little flat with just one body behind the desk, but they were going to cut away to the game in Brampton, and Kelly was always good. Maybe they’d use this as an excuse to give a little extra time to the women’s game. John would hate that. Nate couldn’t resist smiling at the image of him fuming about it.
“You’re done.” Samira batted him on the shoulder as she finished. “Now get out of my chair and y’all have a great show.”
Y’all.Plural. Was that significant? Nate turned to ask, but Samira had already scooted out of the room.
Something strange was definitely going on.
“Nate Overton to the set.”The voice over the PA made it clear he didn’t have any more time to wonder. In fact, he barely had time to change—he unbuttoned his shirt on the way to Wardrobe, where Tony was already waiting to help him into its replacement.
“Little behind today?” he asked, turning to grab the jacket and tie—helpfully already tied—while Nate buttoned up.
“O’Hare,” Nate said grimly.
“Say no more.” Tony held the jacket for him. “Not going to miss your old cohost’s wardrobe peculiarities, you know?”
Nate figured Tony wouldn’t miss him, period. “Maybe his replacement will be easier on the eyes.”
Tony opened his mouth to say something, but Nate didn’t have time. He took the tie to go, waving his thanks over his shoulder.
“Cutting it a little close,” their primary camera operator commented as Nate stepped onto the soundstage.
Jeez. You get twitchy about people being late a few times and you’d never get any slack. “Yeah, yeah,” Nate said. “Point taken.” He took another three steps—
And stopped.
Someone was sitting in his chair.
