Break of Day by Mari Madison

cry. I couldn’t let him know my upset. I had to be professional, even if Asher refused to be.
    â€œThe morning writer job,” I managed to say. “I had hoped . . .” I bit my lower lip. “I had hoped that Gary would give it to me. It usually goes to the most senior production assistant and I’ve been here months longer than Anna. And I’ve been writing a lot of scripts in practice.” I trailed off, knowing I was protesting too much. But what else could I say?
I know you gave it to Anna because Asher asked you to. And you can’t exactly go against the wishes of the station’s golden son.
That wouldn’t exactly go over too well.
    â€œPiper, no one doubts your qualifications,” Richard said in a comforting voice. “You’ve been a great employee since you’ve been here. Gary says you’re professional, you come in on time, you do your work without complaining, and you put in overtime whenever we ask. But a far better opportunity has come up.”
    â€œYeah, I know. The weather producer job. It’s funny I never saw that one posted on the job boards,” I said, not able to help the sarcastic note in my voice.
    Richard studied me for a moment, then he sighed. “Piper, close the door, please,” he said.
    I reluctantly got to my feet and walked over to the door, shutting it behind me like a scolded child. I didn’t knowexactly what he was going to say next, but I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be good.
    When I returned to my seat, Richard leveled his eyes on me. “Look, I’m going to give it to you straight. Asher is very important to our station. In addition to his mom owning the place, his father was a legend and Asher needs to continue to follow in his footsteps. He’s a legacy. A golden boy. And he’s very good for the ratings,” Richard added with a small snort. “Especially amongst the female demo, if you know what I mean.”
    Oh, I knew what he meant all right. Unfortunately all too well.
    I sighed. “Yeah, but—”
    But Richard wasn’t finished. “Problem is, Asher isn’t exactly the kind of guy who appreciates the good old nine-to-five. He tends to . . . wander. Or show up late. Or some days not at all. And that’s been proving difficult when it comes to putting on a newscast.” He made a face. “Anyone else? We would have fired them a year ago. But we can’t fire Asher.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Must be nice to have that kind of job security.”
    Richard held up a hand. “Don’t get me wrong. Asher’s a great guy. And he’s a really talented meteorologist like his father. If he put his mind to his work, I know he would be amazing. But getting him to focus . . .” He gave me a knowing look. “Anyway, that’s where you come in.”
    â€œAs his producer,” I concluded.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd this was his idea?”
    â€œ
You
were his idea. I’ve been trying to give him a producer for two years now. His mother has, too. She’s at her wits’ end with him. But up until today he’s refused everyone we’ve offered him—even really top candidates,” Richard continued. “So imagine my surprise when I’m sitting in my office, offering Anna Jenkins a writing position, and he bursts in and asks for you.”
    Wait, what?
I stared at him, jaw practically on the flooras I digested what he’d just said. Not the part about Asher asking for me to be his producer. But the part where Richard was already giving Anna my job before Asher even came in.
    No. Not my job. I sank back into my chair.
Her
job. It had never been mine to begin with. And if Asher hadn’t stepped in . . .
    Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
    Richard’s eyes zeroed in on me. “Look, Piper, I’m not going to lie. You’d be employed as a producer. You’d get paid as a producer. But in