Seduced by the Playboy. Pamela Yaye
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her mouth and took a sip. “I’m trying not to let anything stress me out,” she confessed, gazing down at her belly, “but it’s hard being pregnant, taking care of my family and doing my job effectively.”
“God, I am such a bad friend! I came barging in here and didn’t even ask how your doctor’s appointment went this morning.” Angela took the seat across from Simone and squeezed her hand. “How are the babies doing?”
Her grin lit up the kitchen. “They’re good. Gaining weight and kicking me like crazy!”
Angela listened to Simone recount every detail of her ultrasound appointment and, for a split second, wondered what it would be like to be pregnant. Back when she was a naive nineteen-year-old, madly in love with her college sweetheart, she’d had dreams of getting married and raising a family. But after countless arguments about her career, he’d dumped her via email and moved on to greener pastures. Younger, thinner pastures, Angela thought, recalling the day she’d bumped into her ex and his new girlfriend at the mall. Her ex had foolishly thought he could control every aspect of her life, and although it stung to see him with someone else, Angela knew she was better off without him.
The whole male species, actually.
Since moving back to Chicago six months ago, Angela had been playing the field and loving every minute of it. She never went out with the same guy twice, and although she’d earned a reputation of being a heartbreaker, she had no intention of ever settling down. She’d leave getting married, having babies and watching cartoons to her love-struck girlfriends.
“So what’s going on with you?” Simone asked. “What’s got you all worked up?”
“Demetri Morretti showed up at the station today and demanded that I go on the air and apologize to him,” Angela said, the words tumbling out of her mouth in one long gush. “Can you believe it? I mean, really, who does he think he is?”
“Well, you did call him a spoiled, immature athlete on national television...”
“None of this would have happened if the security guards had been doing their job,” she continued. “They should be fired.”
“It was bound to happen, Angela. You couldn’t avoid Demetri Morretti forever.”
“I knew some of the players were upset, but I never expected Demetri to show up at the station. I almost fell over when I saw him, and when he started in on me, I lost it.” Angela shook her head at the memory of their heated confrontation. “It was horrible, Simone. We were yelling and arguing and dissing each other.”
“I know. I saw and I heard.”
“You saw and you heard what?”
“Your showdown with Demetri. The video was posted online about an hour ago.”
“Online?” she repeated, shaking her head. “As in on the internet?”
“Yup. Sexy Chicago Newscaster Goes Off on Baseball Superstar, and since it’s gone viral, it’s received thousands of hits.” Simone slid the laptop in front of Angela, clicked on the appropriate link and said, “See for yourself.”
Angela gasped when she saw her image on the screen. “H-h-how come Demetri looks all calm, cool and collected and I look like a raving lunatic?” she stammered, unable to believe her eyes. In the heat of the moment, Angela felt as if Demetri was attacking her, but that hadn’t been the case at all. He was chill, at ease, and his tone was so soft, she could barely hear what he was saying. Unfortunately, she heard her curt, clipped tone loud and clear.
“I’m going to be the laughingstock of late-night television!” she wailed.
Simone put her hands on Angela’s shoulder. “Girl, it’s not that bad.”
“You’re right. It’s worse.”
“Look on the bright side—”
“There isn’t one.”
“Yes, there is.” Simone tapped the computer screen. “You’re working the hell out of your new Chanel shorts suit, and all those sessions with your personal trainer are definitely paying off because your booty looks good!”
“You’re not helping, Simone.”
“And as usual, you’re being overly dramatic.”
“No, I’m not.” Angela cringed when she heard the note of despair in her voice, but she couldn’t help the way she was feeling. Being secretly recorded unnerved her, but having the video posted online, for the whole world to see, made Angela want to curl into a ball in the middle of the kitchen floor. “I want to be taken seriously as a journalist, and this whole episode with Demetri is only going to set me back.”
“Or it could catapult you to stardom, and you could end up with your own reality show!”
Angela gave her best friend a blank stare.
“What? Throwing a tantrum on camera has worked for dozens of other stars. I don’t see why it can’t work for you.”
“Why would someone waste their time uploading this stupid video on YouTube?”
“Probably just for kicks. People post all sorts of wacky things online these days.”
Angela winced and then dropped her face in her hands.
“Sorry, girl. That’s not what I meant.”
“But that’s exactly how I look. Wacky,” she admitted, swallowing a sob. “I bet Demetri posted the video to get back at me, to make me look like a fool.”
“You think so?”
Angela gave it more thought and considered exactly what had transpired between them that afternoon. “I don’t know. He had no way of knowing what would happen, but I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s surly and bitter, and this sort of thing is right up his alley.”
“So, what happened after your boss ordered you into her office?”
Angela told Simone an abbreviated version of her terse ten-minute meeting with Salem. She admitted being so wound up after her argument with Demetri, she couldn’t concentrate on what her boss was saying. But she did vividly remember Salem inviting the baseballer on her show. “I can’t believe Salem invited him to appear on my show!”
“I don’t understand why you’re mad. Having Demetri Morretti on your show will send your ratings through the roof!” Simone said, throwing her hands up in the air. “For some reason, people love to hate that guy, and since he hasn’t done a sit-down interview in years, viewers will tune in. I don’t even like baseball, but I’d definitely watch!”
“I’d rather have a mime on my show than Demetri Morretti.”
“No one said you had to play nice, Angela. Do the interview your way,” she advised. “Put him in the hot seat. Ask tough questions. That’s what viewers want to see. Good, hard interviews with today’s hottest stars.”
Nodding her head slowly, she considered her best friend’s advice. Angela knew if she grilled Demetri Morretti on air, her boss and everyone in the production team would be licking their chops. “Simone, you’re brilliant!”
“I know. That’s what I keep telling my husband, but he doesn’t believe me!”
The women laughed.
“I better get started on dinner.” Standing, Simone gathered her case files and dumped them into her briefcase. “Marcus will be home soon, and I still haven’t seasoned the chicken.”
Angela watched her girlfriend, moving anxiously around the kitchen, and was glad she didn’t have to rush home to cook dinner for a man. If I ever get married, my husband will cook for me, she decided.
“You didn’t touch your tea,” Simone said. “Do you want me to reheat it?”
“Sure, and don’t forget the vodka this