Honey on Your Mind Part 3

"OK..."

"And then the next day he sent me a text message..."

"OK..."

"Actually, it wasn't really a message."

She raised her eyebrows.

"It was a photo. Just a photo. No message."

She kept her eyebrows raised. "And?"

"The photo was of himself...no shirt on...with one hand holding the camera...and the other hand...down his underwear."

Her eyes got big. "No way."

I nodded.

"There's no way that really happened."

I pulled out my phone. "Oh yes it did." I scrolled through the photos and showed it to her.

"No way." She said again as she looked at the picture. "That's totally his package. I can't believe it."

I laughed. "Yep, right there for the whole world to see through a thin layer of cotton."

"Did you reply?"

I shook my head. "Before I got a chance to do anything, he sent me another text."

"Another photo?"

"No, this one was a message that said *Wanna see it?'"

"He did not."

I laughed. "Oh yes he did."

"What did you do?"

"I replied that no, I did not want to see it."

"Wow, that's off the charts, Waverly."

I grinned. "I know. Did I win?"

"I think you just did. She pulled her own phone out of her purse and looked at it. "And I can't play this game any longer because I've really got to run now, or I'll be late."

"Good luck. I hope your date tonight doesn't make our list."

"I hope not too. It was so nice meeting you. I'll be in touch soon about the Honey products, OK? I promise to take good care of you."

I smiled. "Sounds good to me. I'm so glad to have you to help me with this."

"Oh gosh, it's my pleasure. Plus, if I do my job right, we'll both make out like bandits." She put the binder and Honey Tote back inside her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Welcome to New York, my new friend. We're glad to have you."

She gave me a quick hug and was gone.

I pulled out my phone as soon as she left and was happy to see a timely new text from Jake: Back in Atlanta, but wish I were still in Brooklyn I smiled at the message. I'd certainly come a long way from the guy with one hand down his boxer briefs.

a a a When I'd come to New York in the past, I'd always taken cabs, since my company was paying. But truth be told, I'd also been a bit overwhelmed by the sheer enormity and complexity of the subway system. Now that I was living here, though-not to mention paying for my own transportation-I was determined to master it. So, on the morning of my first meeting at Love, Wendy, I anxiously followed the ma.s.ses down into the Court Street stop.

At Union Square in Manhattan, I stepped off the train and stood on the platform for a moment, taking in the madness. Then I looked overhead and studied the signs to find the correct uptown route before I plunged into the swarming crowd. Along the way, I strolled by an eight-person jazz band and what appeared to be a fully functioning police station. Underground. On the final leg of my journey, I avoided the scary smiles of a few The World Is Ending pamphlet pushers, steered clear of a couple of sleeping/pa.s.sed out people, and finally descended another stairway to reach the correct uptown platform, which was teeming with commuters moving in all directions. In the middle of the chaos, a man with dreadlocks down to his waist calmly played a Jamaican steel drum.

It wasn't even nine o'clock.

As I waited for the connecting train to arrive, I wondered if anyone actually lived in the subway. It certainly seemed possible. I figured it was only a matter of time before someone made a reality show out of it.

a a a I arrived at NBC with time to spare. Scotty had been traveling the entire week before, so we hadn't connected more than briefly by phone. That meant I was essentially walking into my first day blind-and desperately hoping I wouldn't crash into anything.

I checked in with the receptionist at the front desk, who directed me to HR to fill out some paperwork before I was to join the team at ten o'clock. When I was done with that, I still had time to kill, so I played with my phone for a while and pretended to look busy. Finally, I decided to make my way to the conference room. As I walked down the crisp hallways, I half expected a security guard to appear out of nowhere, grab my elbow, and escort me from the premises.

I couldn't believe how nervous I was.

I arrived at the meeting about five minutes early. There was only one person seated at the huge table, and he looked about seventeen, so I figured he was an intern. He appeared to be playing a game on his phone. I smiled at him and sat down at the opposite end of the table, wondering if he was an executive's kid. I pulled out a notebook and looked over at him again. He didn't raise his eyes from the screen.

OK, then.

A few minutes later, the room began to fill up. People arrived in pairs or threes, chatting among themselves. No one paid me much attention, so I focused on breathing deeply and trying not to sweat too much. Then Scotty walked in.

Thank G.o.d. A familiar face.

As soon as he saw me, he trotted over to give me a big hug. Apparently, it's OK to hug at the office in the world of TV.

"Waverly! It's so great to see you. Welcome to NBC. Welcome to New York!"

"Thanks, Scotty. It's great to see you too. I can't believe this is really happening." I kept my voice low.

"I'm so excited to have you on board. You're going to do just great."

"I'm totally nervous," I added in a whisper.

He squeezed my shoulders tightly. "Don't worry for a minute. Let's grab coffee after this, OK?"

I nodded and sat down as he walked to the front of the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce the newest member of the Love, Wendy team, Ms. Waverly Bryson."

Everyone looked at me. I smiled and tried to make eye contact all around, but it felt a bit forced. I hoped no one noticed how uncomfortable I felt.

"As you may already know, she'll be hosting a new segment called Honey on Your Mind, based on a popular advice column she wrote for the San Francisco Sun. It's going to be a fun addition to the show."

After a few smiles and nods in my direction, everyone turned back to Scotty.

"Plus she's a lot of fun, especially after a couple drinks, so I'm excited to have her on board and know you will all love her just as much as I do."

More smiles and nods in my direction. I'd never been in a work environment that so blatantly blurred the lines between professional relationships and personal ones, so I was a little thrown by how familiar he was being and wondered how everyone really felt about me-especially now that they knew I'd been out boozing with the boss.

I kept waiting for Wendy Davenport to stroll into the room, but she never did.

Where is she?

The meeting seemed to go smoothly, at least what I could understand of it. I quickly learned that TV people use a lot of jargon and acronyms, many of which went sailing right over my head. I was able to decipher some of it through context, but I was tempted more than once to raise my hand and ask for a translation. Not wanting to look like I was in too far over my head, however, I feigned understanding while furtively jotting down a long list of questions. I'd get Scotty to explain it all to me later.

The intern played with his phone throughout the entire meeting.

a a a "So where was Wendy?" Scotty and I were across the street at Argot Tea. I stirred brown sugar into my latte.

"Wendy? She doesn't come to staff meetings all that much."

"Really? But isn't this, well, her show?" I was secretly thrilled at this news.

"Yes, but it's in her contract that she doesn't have to attend every meeting, especially the regular ones where, as you just saw, we basically go over a checklist of what everyone needs to take care of throughout the week. She comes now and then, especially if we're going to be kicking around ideas for the show, but overall she thinks meetings are a waste of her time."

"You're joking."

He shook his head and smiled. "Welcome to TV, my love. It's unlike any industry you've ever seen, one in which moderately talented people get paid enormous amounts of money to act like spoiled children."

"I would have thought Wendy would be all over every meeting. She seemed like the type, you know?"

"People aren't always what they appear to be. Especially that one. You'll see."

"I can't say I'm exactly looking forward to that."

He put his hand over mine. "Please. You'll be fine. So tell me about you. You're settling in OK? So far, so good?"

"So far, so good. I'm surprised at how smoothly it's gone, to be honest."

"How are you liking Brooklyn Heights? I think it's one of the prettiest areas in all of New York City. A hidden gem, if you ask me."

I could feel my eyes brighten. "I'm loving Brooklyn Heights. It's hard to explain, but in a strange way, I feel like the neighborhood was made for me, Scotty. I just feel so comfortable there. They should have called it Waverly Heights."

He smiled. "Glad to hear you're fitting in. I knew you would. So when are you coming up to my roof deck for a drink? Given how much I've been talking about you since you took the job, I think Tad's convinced I'm going to go straight and make a move on you."

I coughed. "Yeah, right. I'd love to come by and meet him for more than two minutes this time. I'm curious about the man who captured the heart of the elusive Mr. Scotty Ryan. I've got to say, I never thought I'd see the day."

"You and me both, princess." Scotty and I had both met Tad at a wedding nearly two years earlier, but the only thing I remembered from my brief encounter with him that night was thinking it wasn't fair that his eyelashes were longer than mine. Scotty, on the other hand, had since moved from Dallas to New York to live with him.

"So when are you free?" Scotty asked.

I held my hands up. "My schedule is wide openaexcept for having to figure out my new job, that is. I hope you won't regret hiring me."

"Kitten, I know a natural when I see one, and you're going to be fine. This is not rocket science, so trust me, OK? Do you trust me?" He sipped his tea.

I nodded. "I do. I've learned that doubting you is a losing strategy."

"There you go."

"Well, h.e.l.lo, Scott. And is that you...Waverly?" The sound of a woman's voice made us both look up.

Standing next to our table was Wendy Davenport, holding a cup of coffee to go.

Good lord, her blonde helmet has expanded. How is that even possible?

"Hi, Wendy." I stood up and held out my hand. "It's nice to see you again." I tried not to stare at her hair, but it was seriously hard to look away. I was mesmerized.

She accepted my hand, but just as she'd done when we'd met on the Today show set, she didn't grasp it back. Instead, she just held hers there, limp, before we both let go. How is it possible for anyone not to realize how creepy that is?

"Welcome to New York." Despite the weak handshake, her smile was magnetic.

"Thanks."

"I see you two are getting reacquainted," she said to Scotty in a tone that I couldn't help but notice was a bit...cold.

"We missed you at the production meeting," Scotty said in a voice that wasn't cold but definitely wasn't gushing with enthusiasm either. It made me wonder what was going on between them.

She waved her hand in front of her. "Oh please, y'all don't need me to take care of those pesky details."

"Of course not," Scotty said. I wasn't entirely sure, but I think he may have rolled his eyes.

She looked back at me and flashed another bright smile. "So are you excited to join my show? It's a smash hit, you know. Some are even calling it a sensation. We're thrilled to have you on board."

I nodded and smiled too. "I'm really looking forward to it. Thanks so much for this opportunity, Wendy. I really appreciate it."

"Oh don't thank me, thank your boyfriend here." She gestured to Scotty. "If it were up to me, we would have gone with someone a bit more, shall we say, seasoned. No offense, of course."

Before I could respond, she turned on her heel and breezily headed toward the door. "Enjoy this lovely weather. See you at the office," she said over her shoulder.

I looked at Scotty. "Did that really just happen? How could she be so nice and...so mean at the same time? She was being nice and mean at the same time, right?"

"Indeed she was." He nodded.

"How did she manage to do that?"

He shrugged. "Maybe she's more talented than I thought."

I turned my head toward the exit and watched Wendy cross the street. "And was I imagining it, or does she dislike you even more than she dislikes me?"

"She dislikes us both, but you're straight, so she probably dislikes you less."