Nasty Page 2

  With a deafening roar, Luke tore back into the woods, kicking up gravel in his wake like dirt from a horse’s hooves.

  Chapter 3

  BEEP BEEP BEEP!

  Shayla’s alarm had never been so obnoxious before. She was almost positive that it was the same noise every day, but something about today’s rude awakening set her teeth on edge. Maybe it was the fact that she didn’t feel any more rested than she had when she had climbed into bed for her nap in the first place. That was her fault, she supposed. It was what she got for trying to sleep through her pain. The restless sleep she’d experienced had been fueled by feelings of angst and dark regret.

  Figured.

  Shayla flicked off her alarm and groaned, sinking back into the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. She was being overdramatic. She knew that. But knowing it didn’t help her get out of it. She just had to remember that she started an exciting new chapter in her life today—life on screen. Her taste the other day had merely whet her appetite for more. And now she had the chance to make it for real.

  In Templeton, she reminded herself. Hardly a bustling metropolis where people turned to the news to learn the latest about the world’s events. And she had to remember that she had earned this spot at the mysterious expense of someone else—someone she actually quite liked. But, after reminding herself of all these things, Shayla still felt excited to see where things went. It was finally her day in the sun. She just hoped she didn’t screw it up.

  Rolling out of bed with a sigh, Shayla staggered onto her feet. She had about an hour before she had to get to work, which meant there was at least time for coffee. And she would need lots of it. Shayla knew that naps weren’t the best thing in the world for her. If anything, they just made her more tired. But she liked to sleep when she felt sad, even if it didn’t help.

  Now she just had to deal with the side effects of that.

  Shayla’s Keurig seemed to take a ridiculous amount of time to brew her cup. She stared at it intently as it did its thing, wondering whether she could get away with chucking the thing out the window.

  Oh, it was going to be a glorious day at work. What a brilliant day to have to put up with Anthony Blake’s shit.

  When the coffee was finally finished, Shayla grabbed her cup and loaded it with cream and sugar. The sky was just beginning to darken outside, and she stared out her dining room window at the horizon. Maybe if she did well at this they would give her full-time hours. Maybe they’d even let her work during the day, instead of the shitty late evening shift she’d been working since she started there a week ago. Her student loans were starting to cut into her income, and it was certainly having an effect on Shayla’s life. She had lots saved up still, because she’d been a savvy college student, but it would run out soon enough.

  In other words, she needed this promotion to stick. Badly.

  Shayla brushed her teeth and combed through her hair. She knew that Meg would attack her hair and face anyway, so she didn’t bother doing anything extra. After selecting her most newsworthy outfit, a charcoal pencil skirt, flowy maroon blouse, and black cardigan, Shayla grabbed her purse and her keys and was out the door.

  Shayla fumbled with the radio on the drive to the station, but couldn’t find anything to listen to that didn’t make her blood boil. It was all either about finding true love or being cheated out of it. Why was the whole world so fixated on finding a partner? It was stupid. Yeah, maybe Shayla had been interested in one yesterday—but today she was determined not to let any man close to her for a long, long time. She could do without the sappy love songs and ballads of pain.

  Shayla drove the rest of the way to work with the radio off, the only beat being the sound of her turn signals as she maneuvered her way through downtown Templeton. The dark clouds blocking the sun’s dying rays meant that rain would be coming soon. Shayla had always found rain very cleansing, which was good since she lived in Northern Oregon.

  The receptionist, Sharon, barely looked up from her screen as Shayla walked past. Internally, Shayla huffed. Didn’t Sharon know that Shayla was a bigwig now? Shayla bet she said hello to Anthony every time he walked into the office. Ah, well. She supposed that Anthony had a little more to offer the receptionist than a friendly hello. He had a bit of a reputation around the station as a ladies’ man. As long as he didn’t try that shit on Shayla, things would be fine.

  Something told her that she wouldn’t be so lucky.

  The newsroom was more alive than Shayla had seen it in a long time. Amy locked eyes on her as soon as she walked in and gestured for Shayla to follow her into Amy’s office. Shayla nodded and trailed after the woman and her headset from a distance, eyeing the chaos around her with interest. It didn’t seem that people were working so much as they were...gossiping.

  The hallways leading off from the newsroom were just as cramped and bleak as usual. The fluorescent light above her flickered menacingly as she watched Amy disappear into the office at the end of the hall. The lights had been flickering since the day Shayla started, and likely before. Why somebody hadn’t climbed up and twisted the bulb, or gotten a new bulb entirely, was beyond her. But if Amy was competent only to the point that was required of her, the station’s executives were worse. From what Shayla knew, they spent most of their time “working from home.” Now that she thought of it, she wasn’t sure she’d ever met them.

  As it turned out, she was about to.

  Stepping into Amy’s office, Shayla observed that there were two grimly dressed men seated around the conference table. She couldn’t shake the contrast between them and the rough and tough biker who’d been in there only days before. These men looked like they were doing their best to blend into their surroundings. Both wore gray suits with off-white shirts and gray ties. One had a gray moustache that looked like a caterpillar on top of his lip, on its way to climb up to his bald head. The other had close cropped brown hair and a weather-beaten face that led her to believe the brown was a dye job.

  “Mr. Green and Mr. Putnam,” Amy said, trying not to let the sound of her exhaustion from walking all of a hundred feet slip into her voice. “This is Shayla Queene. The woman I told you about.”

  The men nodded, and the one on the right, with the mustache, actually managed a smile. “I’m Derek Green,” he said. “You can just call me Derek.”

  The other’s face was as impassive as a politician’s. “I’m Mr. Putnam.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Shayla swooped forward and shook both of their hands, trying to be as firm as possible. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but it felt a lot like a job interview.

  “Take a seat,” Amy instructed, sitting down opposite the men.

  Shayla sat next to Amy, resisting the urge to swipe at the grease stain on the edge of the glass table with her sleeve.

  “I know Anthony called you to tell you that we’re considering you to replace Naomi on a trial basis,” Amy said. “But I wanted to have this meeting so Mr. Putnam and Mr. Green could meet you and finalize the decision.”

  Shayla gulped. Anthony had made it seem a lot more assured. She hadn’t considered the possibility that she might have to impress anyone higher up in the station’s hierarchy. If she had, maybe she would have done something about her hair and makeup! This was a disaster. Anthony was such a prick. If he hadn’t said anything to her at all besides the fact that Naomi wasn’t coming back, she likely would have put her best foot forward into the station this morning in the hopes that she would be chosen for the job.

  Goddamnit.

  “Amy showed us the tapes from the night you stood in for Naomi before, and we were quite happy with that,” said Derek. “But unfortunately being charming and eloquent isn’t all the news is about. We’ll need you to bring in big stories.”

  “Big stories?” Shayla looked nervously between them. “Like more of the kind I presented that night? More kittens?”

  Derek chuckled, but Mr. Putnam’s face was stern. “No. That was miniscule. We couldn�
��t believe that was what was passing as news these days.”

  Beside Shayla, Amy flinched.

  “We want real news. And, since you have the most motivation to get it, we’re going to allow you into a position you’re not qualified for in the hopes that your motivation will be what gets us hard hitting stories.”

  Shayla did her best not to flap her mouth like a fish. She had to find news? In Templeton? There was nothing going on in Templeton! She could cover more about the drug coma teen, but how much further would that story stretch? It did, however, secretly delight her that Amy had clearly gotten it from her bosses about the kind of drivel she was putting up on screen. Nevertheless, this was a tall order. Also, she was totally qualified for her promotion! What did they think she had studied in school? Basket weaving?

  Shayla couldn’t decide whether she liked these guys or hated them. One thing she did know? She was desperate to impress them.

  “Thank you for the opportunity,” she said, smiling from ear to ear.

  If they knew her grin was fake, their expressions didn’t show it.

  “Now get out there and get some viewers,” instructed Derek good-naturedly. “Our evening advertisers are starting to get antsy from the lack of viewership. If we don’t increase our numbers, they could pull out and the whole station could tank.”

  What a goddamn blow to the head! How could he casually drop that the fate of the whole station rested in her ability to find interesting news for people to watch? What was she supposed to do? Go rob a bank so that she’d have something to talk about later on?

  For now, she was dismissed, so she rose from her chair and began the agonizing walk back to the newsroom. Amy tagged along beside her.

  “It’s a good thing we’ll have that kitten follow up,” she said.

  Shayla looked at her like she was speaking Greek. Was she serious? Had she not just been in the same meeting? The executives didn’t want kittens—they wanted blood and turmoil. They wanted stories that would cause people to tune in, not tune out. And Amy wanted to give them kittens?

  Also, now Shayla had to explain to her producer that she had slept with their lead and then subsequently slammed a door in his face after finding out he was a dirty no-good liar. She was sure that would go over well. Probably as well as her foray into the darkness of Luke Cinder.

  “Listen, Amy,” Shayla said. “I don’t think sticking with the kitten story is what the executives want. Let’s try to find something a little more groundbreaking.”

  Amy huffed. “Those two wouldn’t know good news if it hit them in the face.”

  And neither would Any. She would only know that something was hitting her in the face and therefore was the easiest story to snag.

  “Let’s just do what they want,” Shayla suggested. “If it goes poorly, then we can show them that our way is better.”

  She winced as she said “our way” but tried not to show it. Hell, it was like trying to convince a child.

  They emerged into the newsroom and Amy whirled on Shayla. “Well what do you suggest? I work my ass off trying to find stories for this station.”

  That was the most unlikely thing that Shayla had heard this week. Prior to her run in with Luke this afternoon, she would have been more likely to believe that he was a nice guy with good intentions than that Amy worked hard to gain viewership.

  “We just need to think,” Shayla said. “There’s lots going on in this town that nobody sees. The girl in the coma could be a start. We could follow that trail and see where it gets us. And, I hate to say it, but maybe sensationalize it a bit.”

  If the station sunk, then Shayla’s career would sink with it. What shipping company would hire a boat captain last seen at the helm of a sinking ship? She’d have to start over. Maybe go into print media instead. And the stress of that!

  Shayla was about to bounce more ideas off of Amy, but she looked up and saw Anthony stalking toward her from across the room. He had a slimy grin plastered on his face that Amy didn’t think for a second looked genuine. What the hell did he want?

  “Do you mind if I steal our newest star for a moment, Amy?” he asked using his presenter voice.

  Ugh. That couldn’t be good.

  Amy nodded, her mind clearly elsewhere. She made a beeline for the refreshments table, likely wanting to get her claws into as many free croissants as she could before the business went under or she was fired.

  Anthony was looking particularly smug today. His dark hair was slicked back from his forehead, and he looked like he’d been for a tan earlier in the day. He smelled like it too, the sickly scent of coconut wafting up Shayla’s nostrils as he put a gentle hand on her back and led her back into the hallway.

  Of her least favorite places to be, in a dark hallway, alone with Anthony Blake, probably ranked close to the top. To his benefit, he didn’t crowd her too much as they walked along. She wasn’t sure where they were going, but thankfully he didn’t drag her into an abandoned office or anything. He simply stopped once they were out of view of everyone else, and leaned casually against the wall next to her.

  “I wanted to apologize for my conduct the other day,” Anthony said, donning a thousand-watt smile. “I was a bit on edge, as you probably understand.” He sighed. “Naomi being gone...it’s been hard on me.”

  Shayla tried to make her expression genuine. “I understand. Thank you for the apology.”

  He nodded, his gaze slipping down from her eyes to her lips, then down to the slight cleavage peeking out from her top, then back to her eyes again. Shayla had always hated Anthony’s watery blue eyes. Now she had even more of a reason for her quiet wrath.

  “We’re going to be working in very close quarters, Shayla,” he purred. “Don’t be afraid to get to know me a little better.”

  Anthony pushed off from the wall and faced her, dipping his head down beside hers. His breath tickled her ear and she had to use every ounce of willpower she had not to recoil in disgust. He had only just apologized. She couldn’t have him pissed off at her again this soon.

  “We should get together some time. I think you’ll like me once you get me alone.”

  Shayla’s gut churned at the prospect, but she adopted a polite smile and stepped away only slightly—not nearly as far as she wished she could go.

  “Thanks, Anthony.” She began to turn on her heel. “I should go check to see if I’m needed anywhere. I’m sure Meg will be dying to get some bronzer on me.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  Shayla walked stiffly toward the newsroom. She was acutely aware of just how close to her Anthony was walking. She was still enveloped in his coconut cloud, and she resisted the urge to cough.

  Meg eyed her down from across the room once Shayla was back in the newsroom, and she’d never been so happy to see the perky blonde in her life. She left Anthony and fast walked all the way to Meg’s cosmetic corner, hoping that he didn’t follow her there too. She reminded herself that she only had to work with him long enough to bag a job at another station. Then she could put Anthony, Amy, and all the other bullshit at the station, in her past.

  “You look pale,” Meg observed. “Sit.”

  Shayla did as she was instructed, watching as Meg mixed shades on her little makeup pallet to find Shayla’s perfect color. Finally satisfied, Meg dipped her sponge in the liquid and came toward Shayla with it. Before she could make her first dab, however, a hubbub erupted throughout the newsroom. Both girls looked around to find the source of the chatter.

  Strolling in, looking like a biker god, was Luke Cinder. And he was carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. Shayla’s breath caught in her throat, and her jaw dropped open. Luke clapped eyes on her and stopped, the fire in his gaze causing Shayla to melt inside despite herself. He shouldn’t still be able to have this kind of effect on her. She should hate him!

  For a reason known only to him, Anthony decided to gravitate toward Shayla in the wake of Luke’s entry. Shayla looked over at her co-anchor quizzically. Surely he
couldn’t be making some sort of show of dominance? Ownership? What a tool.

  Luke’s nostrils flared and he crossed the room, pressing the bouquet into Meg’s hands without taking his eyes off of Shayla. “Please put these in Shayla’s office.”

  “Uh,” Meg stuttered. “She doesn’t have an office.”

  Luke glanced over at Meg. “Then put them on her desk. Or in her corner. Or wherever Shayla does work.”

  Meg nodded and scurried off to the wall where Shayla’s desk stood.

  Shayla stood from her chair, eyeing down the muscled monster. “I think the custom is to give them to the recipient directly.”

  “The recipient and I need to talk.”

  Anthony was still somehow holding his ground, despite the noticeable atmosphere of it being Luke and Shayla’s business. Noticing this, Luke turned a hard stare onto Anthony. He looked even bigger and tougher than the last time Shayla had seen him. Even carrying flowers, he looked ridiculously manly. She couldn’t imagine Anthony facing off against him and winning.

  And, as expected, Anthony cowered and stalked off. When he was gone, Luke turned those vicious green eyes on Shayla again.

  Chapter 4

  The last place Luke Cinder ever thought he would be was a flower shop. He’d never gotten a girl flowers in his life. Even his mom, who he’d loved right up until the day that the cancer took her, had never been on the receiving end of a bouquet from Luke. He’d favored practical gifts instead. He often got his mom good cuts of meat. It was a strange present, but that woman had appreciated good cooking and fine food. If he showed up with a lamb shank, she was guaranteed to be pleased with it.

  But this situation with Shayla...it seemed like it required a different approach. He tried to think what someone else would do in his position. Someone who wasn’t a big scary biker. He supposed they would probably get the girl they hurt flowers.