just thought I'd call and warn you."
Warn me? "About what?"
The intercom buzzed again. I swiveled. "Hold on, Riley. Yes?" I said to Brickhouse.
"Carson Keyes is here to see you."
My gaze zipped to Roxie. "Why?"
"For his behind-the-scene piece, remember?"
Nope. I'd forgotten.
"Okay," I said to Brickhouse. "Show him in please. Riley? Warn me?"
"About the picketers."
I sat upright. Somehow I'd gotten the cord tangled around my neck. I fought to get free. Hands tugged, elbows fl ew.
My office door swung open and Carson Keyes walked in, took one look at me and signaled his cameraman to start filming.
Grrr.
I held up a finger to him, finished unraveling myself and said to Riley, "What picketers?"
"Two guys with signs that say 'Reality TV Is Evil.' "
Chocolate. I needed chocolate. I opened the bottom desk drawer, saw it was empty—damn it—and slammed it closed.
"That's not the worst part," Riley said.
"How can it possibly be worse?"
"The construction guys actually showed up today."
"But that's good news!" Images of me sleeping in my own bed soothed me.
"Um, not really. They refuse to cross the picket line. Something about union rules."
On edge, I grit my teeth.
I pumped Riley for more information, but he didn't know much else so I hung up. Picketers. Great.
Looking at Carson, I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile, and held out my hand.
As he shook it I couldn't help but think about Ana and what she'd do to me if she found out Carson was here in my office and she wasn't.
I'd probably be keeping this little tidbit to myself.
After introducing him to Roxie and Nels, I asked him and his cameraman to have a seat.
"Did I hear something about picketing?" he asked.
"At my house. Something about reality TV being evil."
"I spoke with Mario Gibbens earlier, and he too had picketers at his place. The footage will be in my report tonight." He tapped something into his BlackBerry, and I wondered if footage of my house would be on the news tonight too.
"Did you interview them?"
He nodded, tucked his BlackBerry into the inside pocket of his tailored suit coat. "Activists for a morality TV group."
"Oh."
Was Hitched or Ditched immoral? Maybe I needed a quick brush-up on current vices because I didn't think so.
Carson leaned forward, smiled. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions off camera? Then do a little filming?"
"Not at all."
Carson seemed like your everyday average guy, and not the most popular TV reporter in Cincinnati. I thought for sure he'd be carrying around a big ego, but he seemed humble and down to earth. I worried about Ana's chances with him—or rather, his chances with her. She enjoyed the narcissistic type.
His questions ranged from why I was doing the show—I came up with a doozy of an answer about long-distance relationships and everlasting love—to how I met Bobby, to if the home audience actually voted for Bobby and me to get hitched, would we?
"Tough one," I said.
"But isn't that why you're doing the show?"
"Well, yes." I was stuck. If I said yes, that Bobby and I would get married, then all of southern Ohio, northern Kentucky, and eastern Indiana would be expecting a wedding. It could bloom out of control.
If I said no, everyone would wonder why we were on the show in the first place. And I couldn't very well explain about Josh Drake and his cockamamie idea to get dirt on Willie Sala for a lawsuit, now could I?
"You're just going to have to wait and see," I hedged.
He smiled. "Said like a woman trying to evade a question."
"Said like a woman who would like the audience to keep tuning in."
He laughed. "Good point."
"Thank you. Now, can I ask you a couple of questions?"
"Me? Why?"
"Curiosity."
Amusement lit his eyes. "Okay."
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
He took a second to respond. "No."
That had been a very pregnant second. A lot was hid den in that second. That second put me on edge. "Recently dumped?" I fished.
"Nope."
"Want a girlfriend?" This would tell me
Warn me? "About what?"
The intercom buzzed again. I swiveled. "Hold on, Riley. Yes?" I said to Brickhouse.
"Carson Keyes is here to see you."
My gaze zipped to Roxie. "Why?"
"For his behind-the-scene piece, remember?"
Nope. I'd forgotten.
"Okay," I said to Brickhouse. "Show him in please. Riley? Warn me?"
"About the picketers."
I sat upright. Somehow I'd gotten the cord tangled around my neck. I fought to get free. Hands tugged, elbows fl ew.
My office door swung open and Carson Keyes walked in, took one look at me and signaled his cameraman to start filming.
Grrr.
I held up a finger to him, finished unraveling myself and said to Riley, "What picketers?"
"Two guys with signs that say 'Reality TV Is Evil.' "
Chocolate. I needed chocolate. I opened the bottom desk drawer, saw it was empty—damn it—and slammed it closed.
"That's not the worst part," Riley said.
"How can it possibly be worse?"
"The construction guys actually showed up today."
"But that's good news!" Images of me sleeping in my own bed soothed me.
"Um, not really. They refuse to cross the picket line. Something about union rules."
On edge, I grit my teeth.
I pumped Riley for more information, but he didn't know much else so I hung up. Picketers. Great.
Looking at Carson, I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile, and held out my hand.
As he shook it I couldn't help but think about Ana and what she'd do to me if she found out Carson was here in my office and she wasn't.
I'd probably be keeping this little tidbit to myself.
After introducing him to Roxie and Nels, I asked him and his cameraman to have a seat.
"Did I hear something about picketing?" he asked.
"At my house. Something about reality TV being evil."
"I spoke with Mario Gibbens earlier, and he too had picketers at his place. The footage will be in my report tonight." He tapped something into his BlackBerry, and I wondered if footage of my house would be on the news tonight too.
"Did you interview them?"
He nodded, tucked his BlackBerry into the inside pocket of his tailored suit coat. "Activists for a morality TV group."
"Oh."
Was Hitched or Ditched immoral? Maybe I needed a quick brush-up on current vices because I didn't think so.
Carson leaned forward, smiled. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions off camera? Then do a little filming?"
"Not at all."
Carson seemed like your everyday average guy, and not the most popular TV reporter in Cincinnati. I thought for sure he'd be carrying around a big ego, but he seemed humble and down to earth. I worried about Ana's chances with him—or rather, his chances with her. She enjoyed the narcissistic type.
His questions ranged from why I was doing the show—I came up with a doozy of an answer about long-distance relationships and everlasting love—to how I met Bobby, to if the home audience actually voted for Bobby and me to get hitched, would we?
"Tough one," I said.
"But isn't that why you're doing the show?"
"Well, yes." I was stuck. If I said yes, that Bobby and I would get married, then all of southern Ohio, northern Kentucky, and eastern Indiana would be expecting a wedding. It could bloom out of control.
If I said no, everyone would wonder why we were on the show in the first place. And I couldn't very well explain about Josh Drake and his cockamamie idea to get dirt on Willie Sala for a lawsuit, now could I?
"You're just going to have to wait and see," I hedged.
He smiled. "Said like a woman trying to evade a question."
"Said like a woman who would like the audience to keep tuning in."
He laughed. "Good point."
"Thank you. Now, can I ask you a couple of questions?"
"Me? Why?"
"Curiosity."
Amusement lit his eyes. "Okay."
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
He took a second to respond. "No."
That had been a very pregnant second. A lot was hid den in that second. That second put me on edge. "Recently dumped?" I fished.
"Nope."
"Want a girlfriend?" This would tell me
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