In It to Win It Read online

  But that wasn’t the only way they differed. They were polar opposites; Molly was curly blonde, Jane straight brunette. Molly was stick thin with big perfect boobs. Jane had curves with … okay, her boobs were pretty perfect now. Molly was five, four—if she wore four inch heels. Jane was five, ten in bare feet.

  Different as they were, Jane wouldn’t trade the friendship she had with Molly for anything in the world. Molly could practically read her mind, and freshman year she’d helped Jane heal and get over Grayson.

  Molly stopped in front of Jane’s driveway. And Jane smiled. It was good to be home.

  The driveways and garages were all on the backside of the condos, down alleys. The front doors faced each other with a large grassy area separating the buildings. Sidewalks weaved around huge trees that shaded the entire area in the summer time. Now though they were more skeletal with a few wisps of stubborn leaves.

  She loved her condo. It was a drive to the station, nearly an hour, but the price had been right and it was all hers. And Molly lived two doors down.

  “I can come in,” Molly said.

  “No. I’m fine.” She wasn’t. But the last thing she wanted was to rehash her feelings for Grayson. Her unrequited, ridiculous feelings for Grayson. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said and got out of the car. She punched the code into her wireless garage door opener and waited for the door to slide up.

  Her blue Mazda 3 sat alone in the garage and she hurried past it, shutting the garage just before she went inside.

  It was dark. Not a surprise; it always was. Jane worked the ten, which meant she didn’t leave the station until nearly eleven. She flipped on a light. Without thought she put her bag on the table near the door.

  She went over to scoop up the mail where it’d come to rest after coming through the slot in the front door earlier in the day.

  Phone bill, electric bill, a flyer for a free dinner (if you bought one, of course), and an envelope with only her name scrawled across the front—in handwriting she didn’t want to recognize.

  Her teeth sank into her bottom lip and she marched over to the garbage, depositing the unopened card where it belonged. She didn’t want anything to do with Grayson.

  Really, she didn’t.

  Unable to move, she stared at the white envelope resting amongst the soup cans and banana peel and empty Diet Coke cans.

  Molly was right; Jane really should recycle.

  She looked around her kitchen; the white cabinets and black appliances, the black and white checkered tile floor. Opening the fridge, she pulled out a bottle of juice and sank down into a chair at her black table. She picked through the rest of the mail, trying not to think of the elephant in the trash. She could almost hear the trumpet calling to her.

  Finally she sighed and turned away, leaving the letter in the trash and went to bed.

  Tomorrow. She would deal with Grayson tomorrow. Or not.

  Hell, she didn’t know how to react. She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to toilet paper his house, like she had in high school. She wanted to date someone uber hot and drive him crazy with jealousy.

  Like that would happen.

  Slamming a fist into her pillow she rolled over, huffing. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Grayson’s face. His gorgeous face with that arrogant grin that lacked any regard for her or her feelings. Sleep was not going to come anytime soon. She was too wound up. Television seemed like a safe alternative.

  A press of the on button revealed ESPN and a report on … Grayson Pierce.

  Would he haunt her forever?

  She changed the channel, settled on a movie, leaned back against the pillows, and fell asleep.

  

  THE NEXT MORNING JANE WOKE FROM A dreamless sleep. Refreshed and ready to take on the day, she stretched and headed for the bathroom. After washing her face, she looked in the mirror and frowned at the dark circles under her green eyes, not to mention that she looked pale—even paler than usual.

  Not wanting to think about that though, she gathered her long brown locks in her hand and whipped them into a bun on the top of her head.

  Dressed in shorts and a sports bra, Jane turned on the morning news and hit the treadmill. The steady pounding of her feet was a comfort. The television was on, but Jane’s only thoughts were of the thud, thud, thud of her feet and the whirring of the treadmill. Her morning routine kept her centered; the thumping of her feet, the in and out of her breath.

  After the escapade with Xavier and Grayson in the hotel gym, she’d avoided it like the plague. Which was probably best since the last thing she needed was to have pictures of her, half-naked on the internet. Stranger things had happened.

  Her phone rang, interrupting her concentration. Her feet stuttered and she nearly found herself flipped off the back of the treadmill. She grabbed the handrails and jerked the emergency key out. The whirring stopped immediately and Jane ran over to grab her cell phone off the dresser.

  “Yeah?”

  “Hey. Are you okay?” Nate sounded strange.

  “Um … yeah … are you okay?”

  He chuckled. “I’m fine, but it’s not my face on the cover of every tabloid in the grocery store.”

  “What? Why am I…? I’m nobody.”

  “But Grayson Pierce is definitely somebody.”

  “Nate—” She forced herself to take a deep breath and try to relax. Something about his tone and the few words he’d said had butterflies zooming around in her stomach. “—what the hell you’re talking about?”

  An exaggerated sigh whistled through the phone. “Roxie is a sucker for the tabloids. We get some that come to the house, but the others she goes out and buys. Every month.” He sounded disgusted and Jane laughed. She never would have guessed that side of Roxie Hughes. “I swear half my salary goes to them.”

  “Nate.” That one word from her brought him back on topic.

  “Okay, so anyway, Roxie went to the store this morning and brought home three—or maybe it was four—magazines with your picture on the front.”

  “My picture?”

  “Yeah, your picture. You and Grayson.” She heard the turning of pages and knew Nate was describing what he was looking at. “Some of the pictures are just you, with the byline ‘Who is Grayson’s latest girl?’. And you’ll never believe which one’s the biggest…”

  “I don’t wanna know.”

  He plowed on like she hadn’t spoken a protest. “It’s you and Grayson at dinner, when he hugged you. Crappy resolution. Probably a cell phone.”

  “Ugh!” she groaned and suddenly felt like she was going to hurl.

  “No kidding. Sucks to be you, Jane.”

  “I thought we had privacy,” she said more to herself than to Nate.

  “I even made one of the pictures. Roxie’s so proud.” He sounded just as proud of this great accomplishment and Jane’s fingers curled into fists.

  “I’m glad you guys are enjoying your thirty seconds of fame,” she snapped only to instantly regret it. “I’m sorry.”

  “We’re cool. You have to admit that this is pretty freakin’ awesome. I mean to be associated with Grayson Pierce … that’s just awesome.”

  “Nate, I don’t want to be associated with Grayson Pierce. He’s a jerk. Always has been.” Even as she said the words she knew she was embellishing the story. Grayson hadn’t always been a jerk. There were times when he was quite sweet … and cute. No, cute wasn’t the right word. Maybe he’d been cute in elementary school. By high school he’d graduated to hot and never looked back.

  “Jerk or not, his popularity could really help your career. Not to mention what it could do for KHB if you could land an exclusive.”

  Jane snorted. “You sound like Dale.”

  “What can I say—” He paused and she could imagine his beefy shoulders lifting in a shrug. “—I’m a team player.”

  “How very noble of you,” she said sarcastically.

  He chuckled. “That’s me.
Excuse me … I have to go buff my shining armor.”

  Jane laughed. Leave it to Nate to lighten her mood. His sense of humor was his most admirable trait.

  Her doorbell rang and Nate said, “I wouldn’t answer that.”

  Peeking out through the blinds from her upstairs bedroom verified that she would not be opening the door. “Oh hell! It’s starting already. I never thought I’d hate damned reporters.”

  “Anyone we know?”

  “Yeah, it’s Clayton.”

  He laughed, really hard. Jane wondered if he had to wipe any tears away. Despite that she didn’t find the situation a bit funny, she found herself smiling. Nate gasped and snorted, struggled to take a deep breath.

  “Damn … that guy will … do anything … for a story.”

  Clayton Tate, reporter extraordinaire, had managed to make the rounds of all the stations in the Salt Lake valley. He’d left KHB three months before Jane had come on board. She didn’t like working with him on the rare occasion they crossed paths in the field. He had beady little eyes that focused on her breasts when he talked to her. Like most of the other guys she worked with, Nate despised the toe-headed weasel.

  She took her time going downstairs, pausing to rub a hand over the back of the leather couch that formed a faux wall between the living room and the kitchen. She stared at her reflection in the television and pushed at the hair that had come loose during her workout. Slipping her phone into the pocket of her workout shorts, she took the dark brown fleece blanket off the back of the couch, unfurled it with a snap then refolded it and replaced it. Some might say she was stalling. Jane chalked her attitude up to patience.

  Clayton obviously didn’t share her patience, since he rang the bell three more times and had started to pound on the door. When she couldn’t put the confrontation off any longer, she walked to the door where she took a moment to compose herself. Deep breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. Then she looked out the peephole only to see an eye staring back at her.

  She squeaked and jumped back.

  “Jane? Jane Alexander, I know you’re in there.” More pounding.

  Jane shook her head. No wonder this guy couldn’t stay at one station. He was a loose cannon, a real piece of work. TV-101 taught that you didn’t piss off the person you were trying to interview. At least not right away … and not without cause. Her not answering the door did not constitute cause.

  Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

  Ding-dong! Ding-dong!

  Thud! Thud! Thud!

  “Go away, Clayton!” she shouted.

  “All I want is a statement on the pictures of you and Grayson Pierce.”

  “No comment.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “I said ‘no comment’.”

  “Not good enough,” he shouted.

  “Get off my porch!” She kicked the door for emphasis. Her toes, propelled by inertia, met the end of her shoe and she winced. She jumped in a circle, doing her best to cradle her injured foot.

  “Jane!” Nate interrupted the standoff.

  She had completely forgotten that the line was still open and that Nate had been listening to the whole conversation via the phone.

  “Jane! Jane!” Nate’s muffled voice said from her pocket. She pulled the phone from her pocket and put it to her ear.

  “What?” she shouted, too pissed off to even feel bad.

  “Tell Clayton to get the hell off your doorstep or I’m gonna make his life miserable.”

  “Listen, Clayton, I only have one thing to say to you.”

  “Finally,” he said.

  “I’m on the phone with Nate Hughes right now. He says if you don’t leave, he’ll come and make you leave.”

  With her eye affixed to the peephole, she watched him cringe. “Fine. You can call off your guard dog. I’m leaving.” He did, but not without kicking the crap out of the shrubs that lined the walk and slamming the gate that enclosed her tiny front yard.

  “Thanks, Nate.”

  “You bet. I’ll be by to pick you up at noon.”

  She hated needing a meaty guardian, but wasn’t stupid enough to turn him down. “I’ll be ready. Hey, Nate … thanks for the heads-up.”

  “No problem. I always wanted to be a bouncer. Now I get my chance.” She could hear the grin in Nate’s voice and grinned too. The line went dead and she dropped her phone onto the kitchen counter.

  Grayson’s phone call and his apology suddenly took on a whole new meaning. As did the letter currently residing in the garbage can. She went to the trash and plucked out the envelope. Her hands shook as she opened it.

  Janie,

  I have to apologize. I tried to on the phone, but we were disconnected before I got the chance to tell you the reason.

  It’s come to my attention that a photo of our dinner together is going to be plastered on the covers of most of the tabloid magazines. It was not my intention and I hope that your life won’t be turned into a whirlwind.

  I would really like to see you again and apologize in person.

  -Grayson

  His number was included.

  Maybe he hadn’t told her the reason for his apology. She assumed it was for his actions—or lack thereof—in the locker room or in the parking lot or in the gym. It’d been weeks, yet the pain was still very raw.

  Nate had been supportive, mostly because he didn’t bring it up again—after the initial tirade that included an interesting variety of name calling. Jane had never realized that Nate had such an extensive vocabulary.

  Due to the change in plans, Jane had to make a phone call. She hit the ‘M’ on her speed-dial and waited.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Molls.”

  “Hey. What’s up?”

  Jane regurgitated the events of the morning as Molly interrupted with phrases like, “Wow.” or “Seriously?” or “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  When the story was over, Molly was stuck between a fit of giggles and utter silence. The sounds coming through the phone were muffled hiccups. Jane guessed she would have reacted the same way if the roles had been reversed. Wearing the shoes, the scenario wasn’t a bit funny, but from Molly’s moccasins … yeah, it was frickin’ hysterical.

  “No problem, girlfriend,” Molly said. “I’ll see you at the station.”

  “Thanks, Molls.”

  “Hang in there.”

  Hang in there was right. Jane felt like she was dangling from a cliff by nothing but her fingernails … and was quickly losing her grip. Just like the old days. She went back upstairs and started the task of getting ready for work.

  As she showered, she visualized her feelings for Grayson washing down the drain with the soap bubbles. This was the end of the road for him. A person could only hurt her if she was willing to be hurt. She no longer was.

  She turned off the shower, dried off and began the transformation on the outside. She blew her light brown hair dry and tugged at it with the round brush until every strand was straight with a slight curl at the ends. She added a little extra concealer, then dabbed and blended her foundation. Her green eyes twinkled as she applied her eyeliner, eye shadow and mascara. She finished her make-up with some neutral colored lipstick then headed for the closet.

  Jane was just fastening her watch when her phone rang. The ringtone belonged to her mother. She debated letting the call go to voicemail but knew that Sheri Alexander was not going to leave Jane alone today.

  With phone in hand, she closed her eyes and tried to sound nonchalant. “Hi, Mom.”

  “You’re dating Grayson Pierce?” The question was appalled accusation.

  “No.”

  “Go ahead, lie to your mother.”

  Jane’s eyes squeezed closed tighter in frustration. “Believe what you want, Mom, but I am not dating Grayson. It’s all—”

  “He’s not the same boy you went to elementary school with, Janie. In case you don’t read the tabloids, he’s kind of a … a bad boy. And not in a goo
d way. He likes his cars and his alcohol and his … floosies.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  “You, my darling daughter, are not a floozy. At least I didn’t think you were. But I guess if you don’t want to listen to me, go ahead and date him. Just don’t come crying to me when you end up with your heart broken. Because he will break your heart. Just like last time.” She took a moment to breathe. Jane heard the air get sucked in and blown out—right in her ear. An exaggeration of her mother’s frustration. “I swear don’t know how Maude deals with his exploits. I really don’t. It makes her look so bad.”

  Jane rolled her eyes. Maude Pierce loved her son and probably wasn’t a bit concerned with how his actions may or may not make her look. Yet another trait that Sheri Alexander and Maude Pierce didn’t share.

  The doorbell rang and Jane relaxed. Saved by the bell, she thought. “Hey Mom, that’s Nate. I have to go.”

  Another exaggerated sigh. “Okay, fine.” And then the line went dead.

  Jane opened the door. Nate was dressed in jeans and his heavy winter coat with the KHB logo over the upper right breast.

  “You okay?” he asked. “You look a little frazzled.”

  “My mom saw the magazine.”

  He nodded that he understood, but didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to; he’d been witness to more than one of her rants. “You ready?”

  “Yeah, let’s do this,” she said, donning her red KHB winter coat.

  THE STATION WAS BUZZING WHEN SHE AND Nate walked through the door. Nearly every face wore an innocent expression that screamed guilty. More than one person quickly shoved a magazine in their desk or under a notebook or … one idiot even threw their copy in the garbage. Only to retrieve it once she’d passed.

  Nate sat on the corner of her desk and plowed a hand through his hair. “So, um … do you think … I mean … would it be okay…?”

  She laughed and held her hand out, palm up. “Should I make it out to you or Roxy?”