It Girl. Nic Tatano

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      I followed Gavin, head down, pretending to be the student headed to the principal’s office. He was shaking his head as he passed his secretary, who held up a fistful of pink message slips while avoiding eye contact with me. She was on the phone and every line on the thing was lit up. He grabbed the message slips as he walked into his office, pointed to the chair opposite his desk without saying a word, then closed the door after I took a seat. It was all I could do to keep from smiling. He moved behind his desk, sat down, leaned back and folded his hands in his lap.

      "Explain," he said.

      "Explain what?"

      His eyes became saucers. "Explain what? Oh, I don't know … why you were so incredibly obnoxious for the past two hours on national television."

      "I don't even remember half of what I said. I'm fried, Gavin. Totally exhausted. If I said things that offended people I'm sorry, but I was basically asleep out there."

      "Well, I'm sure you'll be able to read about it in every newspaper in America. Or watch yourself on the Internet."

      I thrust out my lower lip in a pout, dipped my head and looked up at him through my eyelashes like a naughty little girl. "It was that bad?"

      That question launched him out of his chair. "It was the worst performance in the history of morning television! I think you probably insulted every possible demographic out there! Not to mention what you said to our special guest!"

      I played dumb again. "I, uh, don't remember—"

      "The most beautiful man on earth! You asked him if his childhood idol was a Ken doll! You may as well have called him a plastic toy!"

      I bit my lower lip, more to keep from laughing than anything else. "Oh."

      He shook the pink slips at me and the irony hit me. (Maybe I'll get one later today!) "Meanwhile, I'm sure I'll be spending the rest of the day fielding phone calls and answering emails from irate viewers. I'd make you stay and do it yourself, but God only knows what you'd say!"

      "Gavin, all I can say is that I'm sorry. I'm so exhausted I'm just not myself."

      "Well, then go home and take a pill to knock yourself out." His phone buzzed and he hit a button. "Yes?"

      His secretary's voice came over the intercom. "Mr. Fincastle wants you upstairs. Right now."

      "On my way," he said. He grabbed his suit jacket from a hanger on the back of the door and put it on. "Great. Now I'm gonna get my ass reamed by the CEO. I'll send you a bill for the Vaseline." He stormed out of his office, leaving me behind.

      I got up from my chair and slowly walked out past his secretary. "I guess he's done with me and I can go home?"

      "That would be a very good idea," she said, glaring at me.

      ***

      I desperately wanted to get out of the building as fast as possible so I wouldn't have to do what I'd never done.

      Lie to Scott.

      Alas, 'twas not to be, as he was waiting for me at my desk wearing a worried look. "So," he said, "you still work here?"

      "No clue. Gavin got called upstairs."

      "What the hell was up with you this morning?"

      I shook my head. "I don't know, Scott. I'm just so damn tired I guess the truth came out about everything."

      "Listen, you might want to write Gavin an apology before you get out of the building. I've got some clout around here but I might not be able to save you on this one. Meanwhile, make sure you get enough rest so that it doesn't happen tomorrow. "

      "The point may be moot. I might not be here tomorrow."

      "I'll see what I can do."

      Oh, shit. The last thing I needed was for him to go to bat for me. "Really, Scott, don't put yourself in the line of fire for me. My screw-up, my problem. You don't need to take a bullet for me."

      "Bullshit. We're a team, remember?"

      Damn Boy Scout. Then again, I knew I'd do the same for him if the roles were reversed.

      ***

      Charlie dropped me off at my apartment without saying a word. Didn't even get out of the car to open the door for me like he always did. As soon as he pulled away and turned the corner I had a spring in my step, my fake yawns no longer needed. Just as I was about to head up the stairs a well-dressed fortyish businessman in an expensive gray suit spotted me and smiled.

      "Hey, Veronica Summer. Great show this morning," he said.

      I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right."

      He stopped walking. "No seriously, it was hilarious. You aren't fake like all those other people on morning shows. That rant you went on about kids making their own lunches was hysterical. My wife actually went back to bed. Our teenagers bitched about it but they made their own lunches. After they left we started talking about taking back the house and our lives."

      My face tightened. "You actually liked what I did this morning?"

      "Are you kidding? I'm telling you, I was doubled over laughing. What a great way to start the day. I know it's April Fool’s Day and all, and it was probably a put-on, but you really ought to consider doing that every morning."

      Oh, shit.

      I'd completely forgotten it was April first. Would viewers think the whole thing was a joke? Would such a small oversight ruin my master plan? Would Gavin let me off the hook because he'd think it was me trying to be funny?

      Dammit! I needed to get fired here and the universe was conspiring against me!

      "I'd never miss a show if you keep it up," the man said, then looked at his watch. "Anyway, thanks for the fun wake up call and for making our kids more self-sufficient."

      "You're welcome," I said, as he moved on.

      The spring in my step disappeared. The man actually liked