Fake It List

Six

Reysha hitched her canvas bag farther onto her shoulder and walked toward the back entrance of the station. It felt like she'd just left, and now she was back. The day after her birthday had been a gong show—according to the morning show DJ, she'd broken the internet—or at least the station website.

They'd had tech guys scrambling to fix things because there were so many visitors to the site, their social media had blown up, and Reysha couldn't log on to the email. It was ... overwhelming. It made it that much harder to avoid thinking about what she'd shared over the airwaves. It did keep her distracted from the chatter and teasing bouncing around the break room and the media booths.

"Hey," Stacey called out. She was hurrying over from where she'd parked her car. Dressed in a gorgeous blue sundress, she personified the term Chicago girl.

"Hey. How was your date last night?"

Stacey grinned. "Yummy."

Reysha laughed at the way her friend wiggled her eyebrows. "You let him stay the night?"

Stacey narrowed her eyes. "You have your rules, I have mine. No sleepovers. I don't need to be tied down. Well, actually—"

Reysha laughed and lifted her hand. "Don't. I don't want to know. How come we're being called in early?"

Stacey unlocked the door and shrugged. "Don't know. Chris said he wanted to talk about our segment."

Reysha's skin itched. What about it? Maybe he was pissed they'd turned the other morning into an Elite episode. He'd seemed okay when he'd brought her dessert, which, in and of itself, was strange to wrap her head around. Why had he? Pity brings out kindness in people. She didn't want it to mean anything more than what it clearly was: Her boss brought her something to ease the sting of a fantastically bad day. Maybe he wanted to be friends. Maybe he was softening you up to fire you. Though, firing really called for more of a good champagne than sweets, but maybe he didn't know that.

"Your negative thoughts are making my brain tired," Stacey grumbled, bumping her shoulder against Reysha's.

"You're tired because you didn't sleep all night. You're not so young anymore. You need more sleep."

With another cheeky grin, Stacey bumped her hip this time. "You need someone who makes you want to lose sleep."

Rule eight: Date men who make you feel things.

She didn't need a guy, or particularly want one right now. Next time, though? It won't be the same old, same old, make me laugh and come out of my shell so I can avoid digging deeper and figuring out what I want.

What she wanted was to know why Chris hadn't shown up for work yesterday and why, though she didn't mind and often did, they were coming in early.

"Jesus, I can feel the worry vibrating off your skin. Chill, Rey. We're fine."

"He probably just wants to talk damage control," Reysha said.

"Damage control? You blew up the internet. He probably wants to thank you for putting the station on the map."

Rolling her eyes, Reysha opened the door and held it for Stacey. "I wonder what would have happened if you'd gotten to sing on-air. Today could look very different for both of us."

"I would have been discovered as the next sexy pop sensation, and you'd have to do the show alone," Stacey answered, taking the stairs ahead of her.

"I'm sure. They'd do a special on you about how you were wasting your amazing ass ... talents in a DJ booth."

Stacey glanced back over her shoulder, completely into the idea. "Some people would have suspected because my speaking voice is already so sexy."