Mister O

When I hang up, I grab a sheet of paper, leave a note for Harper that I’ll be back soon and to wait for me, and head out of my building to a packed coffee shop on Columbus. Tyler waits at a standing table, his navy suit crisp and tailored, with two cups of coffee in his hands.


He thrusts one at me. “I won’t even charge you my hourly for this, and the coffee’s on me.”

“For you to forgo your hourly, the news must be great, which surprises me, given how Gino was a dick on Friday,” I say, and take a gulp of the drink. Since I didn’t finish the one at my house, this will do as a replacement.

Tyler waves a hand dismissively. “Who gives a shit about that tiff? Listen to this, Nick,” he says, parking his hand on my shoulder and clearing his throat. “They want to move the show to one of the sister networks on broadcast. Find you an even bigger audience.”

My eyes widen. “He really thinks it’ll fly on broadcast?”

Tyler nods proudly. “Ten p.m. timeslot is perfect for the show. And you know how broadcast networks are these days. They all want to compete with LGO,” he says, mentioning the hottest premium cable network out there. “And this show gives them the edge. Plus, he doesn’t even need you to make any major creative changes. Maybe tone down a filthy word here or there, but nothing that would compromise the integrity of the show.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. Not that I planned to go all artiste on him, but it’s nice to be able to deliver on the vision.

“That was all posturing from him?”

“Yup. Told you. He was just yanking you around. Trying to keep you on your toes. And hey, did I mention the best part?”

“No. Tell me,” I say, eager for more good news, because this is way more than I expected.

“He wants to up the fee he pays you by thirty percent. Cha-ching.”

I blink. “Holy shit.”

“I know, right?” Tyler’s smile is as wide as Central Park. “And they’re not exactly paying you chump change now.”

“No, they’re not. Their checks cash well.”

“That they do. And they want to make the move as soon as possible. They even mocked up some promos about the time change, and they’re planning to make the switch at the start of the new year.”

It all sounds amazing. It all sounds fantastic. It also sounds too good to be true.

When Tyler opens his mouth to deliver me the final bit of news, that gut instinct is confirmed. “Oh, and there’s one more thing,” he says offhand.

“What’s that?”

“He’s moving the show to Los Angeles.”

It’s like a punch to the kidney. I can’t speak. My jaw drops open, and the words Los Angeles ring in my head. I grip the edge of the table to steady myself. “Los Angeles?” I croak out, as if I’ve never heard of this foreign land.

“That’s where the broadcast network is based. He wants you there, too. Land of sunshine and palm trees. That’s my hometown, you lucky son of a bitch.” Tyler flashes a gleaming white grin. He’s just served up a fantastic renegotiation package and tied it up in a perfect bow, given his love for the West Coast.

“Yeah, Los Angeles is great,” I say, but my voice is hollow.

He must sense it, because he shifts into pep-talk mode, clapping me on the shoulder. “This is a game-changer, Nick. You’re a star, and this is the kind of opportunity that shoots you into the stratosphere,” he says, raising his arm up to demonstrate. “This is rarefied air, my man.”

“It is,” I say, monotone, as all my plans come crashing down. Not even anvil-style, just a heavy stone in my gut.

Because he’s right. This is huge, so what’s wrong with me? Work is what I love more than anything. My career is my passion, and this show has made all my dreams come true. But as I stand here in the middle of a coffee shop having just received the biggest news of my career, I’m not thinking of work.

I’m thinking of the one thing Los Angeles doesn’t have.

Harper starfished on my bed.

Los Angeles possesses a complete lack of the woman I just realized I can’t live without.

I take a swallow of the coffee, set down the mug, and ask a tough question. “This all sounds great. But there’s one thing I want to know.”

Tyler practically bounces on his toes. “Anything. Shoot.”

“What if I say no?”

Tyler’s mouth forms an O. Then his expression rearranges into oh no. “That’s the thing. He’s already signed on another show for your time slot.”

I take a few seconds to digest that news. “Well, that does change the game, doesn’t it?”





35





Harper is twisting her hair into a ponytail when I open the door. She’s perched on my kitchen counter, her legs crossed, kicking a foot back and forth. She wears jeans, a sweater, and boots. She must have everything in her wardrobe inside that giant bag.

A bright smile spreads on her face when she sees me.

“Hey, you.” She sounds buoyant.

“Hey.” My voice, by contrast, weighs two tons.

She frowns. “What’s wrong?”

I take a breath and rip off the Band-Aid. “They’re moving my show to L.A.”