ON AIR

ON AIR

a novel by

Hadley Quinn

Copyright © 2016 Hadley Quinn

All rights reserved.

Without limiting rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, introduced into a retrieval system, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including without limitation photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. The scanning, uploading, and/or distribution of this document via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and is punishable by law.

Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrightable material
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The events and characters in this work are entirely fictitious and of the author’s imagination. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The use of these trademarks is not associated or sponsored by the trademark owner.

Content Warning:

This book contains adult material, including sex and language. It is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.

“If you want to be happy, be.”

~Leo Tolstoy

1

I
t should be obvious when a guy has absolutely zero interest in being present at a bachelor party. Right? I mean give me strippers and give me booze; what the hell is this wine drinking, book club shit? I kid you not I’m at a
bachelor
party with a glass of nasty red wine in my hand while holding a novel in the other.

I could seriously use some whiskey. Or a beer. Or nachos. Or an escape route.

“Dane, what do you think?”

Peter gently squeezed my shoulder. Yes, gently. Pete is a delicate guy. There are no bro hugs, high fives, or rough pats on the back from my neighbor. He’s prim and proper with a freshly pressed shirt, boring tie, perfectly pleated slacks, and his wire-rimmed glasses.

Every. Fucking. Day.

“Uh, wow, Pete. How could I possibly know already?” I turned the book over in my hand to view the cover again. I wouldn’t have had any idea it was a
New York Times
bestseller if it hadn’t said so on the front, and I couldn’t tell you if the author was a woman or a dude with those initials.

“The synopsis.” He smiled at me like he was trying to be patient with a six-foot-two toddler. “Read the back.” He flipped the book over in my hand and pointed as if I didn’t know where the hell a book summary was.

“Well golly gee, Pete,” I said, taking a deep breath to summon some patience of my own. “That’s what I was trying to read.”

I swear to God I thought he was going to take it out of my hand and read it
to me
. But his eager smile was diverted by one of his other tie-clad friends when his name was called. “Enjoy the book, Dane.” He gave me another delicate shoulder squeeze. More like a rub. A soft, creepy rub. “And please, call me Peter instead of Pete.” He smiled again for good measure.

“Can we get the fuck out of here?” a voice mumbled from behind me. “I think that wine hit me wrong. I need to pinch a loaf and I’m afraid my shit isn’t good enough for his bathroom.”

Chuckling, I set my glass on the edge of the kitchen counter and faced Chris, whose blonde eyebrows were all scrunched in distress. He was my sister’s fiancé and two years younger than me, but I’d known him like a brother for a few years already.

“My thoughts exactly,” I replied. “But I don’t have to take a shit. I just want to watch the last few innings of the game.”

“Same difference. Let’s blow this joint.”

I pulled my phone out to check the score as we headed for the exit, but Peter’s voice called my name. I couldn’t believe the guy was the same age as me, and I knew not all twenty-nine-year-olds had the same interests, but this was insane. I think I was the complete opposite of this dude. We were two entirely different breeds.

“Just fucking pretend you didn’t hear him,” Chris growled at me. He was already out the door, lucky son-of-a-bitch.

“Dane, is everything okay?” Peter asked as he approached.

He really did look concerned when I turned around, and I could only imagine what our faces looked like in our haste to get the hell out of grown-up Boy Scouts ‘R’ Us.

“Uh, yeah, I hope so, just, uh…” I held up my phone like I had some pressing matter to take care of. It was no lie; I really did need to see this game.

“No need to explain, take your phone call,” he smiled, nodding his head. “But you forgot your book if you need to depart.” He handed it to me, like he really thought it had been a mistake to leave it behind.

“Oh, thanks, man.” I took it and gave him an appreciative slap on the shoulder. I think I saw him wince. “You take care of that wife-to-be, okay? Congrats again.”

“Thank you, Dane. I’m grateful for your friendship. I’m so happy Charlotte will have you as a neighbor soon. Just one more month.”

I wasn’t quite sure why she wasn’t moving in for a while—what the hell was the point of a bachelor party this soon? –But I remembered this was my weird ass neighbor and who the hell knew what the reason was, and most importantly, did I even care?

I could hear Chris cussing at me from the street, but in my confusion, I asked Peter, “Uh, one more month? And she’s not moving in until then? Not sooner?”

He seemed stunned with the inquiry. “Heavens no,” he huffed. “Not until we’re
married
.”

Oh. I mean…if that’s what was up, who was I to question it? I guess I could see him as an old-fashioned kind of guy, and he spoke the m-word like it was sacred to him.

To each their own.

“Dane, seriously, the pipes, they’re about to burst!” Chris hollered from the curb, hopping from one foot to the other. He was waving me over but started to speed walk away, and by the way his steps were so quick and close together, I could tell he was clenching pretty hard.

“Oh! Dear heavens,” Peter gasped, angling me toward the door. “Go if your pipes are bursting!”

I didn’t even respond. I couldn’t. There was no way I’d get through an explanation so I didn’t even go there. Trying not to laugh, I just waved over my shoulder and jogged down the driveway. My house was about three down and across the street, but I caught up with Chris just as he was barreling through the front entry. Apparently I hadn’t even locked it.

“I don’t wanna know if you shit yourself!” I called before I heard him crash through the bathroom door and slam it shut.

I flipped on the TV and dropped onto the couch. There is just something about being in my own pad with my own things and my own hobbies…and far away from wine tasting and food I couldn’t even name, and men who talked about the best ways to whittle an emergency whistle out of wood.

And to celebrate my own lifestyle, I ordered a huge-ass meat lover’s pizza to celebrate my comfort zone.

When Chris came out of the bathroom ten minutes later, I had him grab the beer from the fridge and my night was made. We spent half an hour void of real conversation and only basic grunts and comments about the game.

The pizza arrived during the eighth inning, and that’s when I asked about my sister. I knew how Chloe was because I always checked up on her, but it was my duty as her big brother to make myself a presence in all aspects of her life.

“Ah, you know, she’s Chloe,” Chris answered with a shrug as he grabbed a slice of pizza. “Always busy, always saying yes to everyone, always giving, always smiling, still always giving…”

Yeah, that was my sister. She was twenty-four but had the seasoned heart of a grandmother. “She doing okay with her café?” I asked.

My sister owned a little coffee shop in town. When I say little, I mean in size
and
customer base. It had been her dream to own one—she put in the time and hard work to have it—and then a fucking chain coffeehouse opened up two blocks down the street. Chloe’s shop took a huge hit before it even really got started, but she’d always been optimistic that it would take off one of these days.

Chris paused before another bite and then lowered it slightly. Shrugging again, he answered, “Ah, you know… That other place really did a number, man. It’s been…it’s been a tough couple of months for her. She keeps working harder and harder but… I don’t know, Dane. I just don’t see things turning around. I saw her financial books the other day. Even I didn’t realize it was that bad. She sold her car last week.”

My eyes opened wide on that note. “What? Are you kidding?”

He shook his head. “No, I wish I was. I think it was her last ditch effort, too. And I don’t have anything else to help with, man. I’m sorry, I wish I did…”

I punched him in the shoulder to avoid emotion. “Don’t sweat it, pal. She’ll figure something out.”

As much as I had faith in my sister, I didn’t believe my own words. And she was like me, stubborn as hell. I knew she wouldn’t ask for my help.

I got up and wrote a check for two grand and handed it to my future brother-in-law. “Take this for now, okay?”

He was hesitant, but he also knew not to defy me. He reluctantly took it and stared at it in his hands. Exhaling, he shook his head. “I can’t, man—”

“Yes. You can. It’s for my sister, Chris. She doesn’t have parents to look after her anymore and it’s my job to do shit like this. Take it and use it however you see fit. Use it for bills, or the business…or use it for the wedding. A honeymoon?” I waved it out of my sight. “Just take it.”

I turned up the volume on the game. It was what I could do as a man to end the conversation and save my buddy’s pride. He was a good, hardworking guy and he treated my sister like she deserved to be treated. Christopher Kaplan was definitely one of my crazy, dumbass friends to the max, but Chloe loved him and wanted to marry him.

I wanted nothing but success for them both.

2

I
entered my sister’s café the next morning at seven a.m. She was busy behind the counter, stacking fresh scones and muffins neatly in their respective baskets behind the glass. She didn’t notice me until I stood in front of her.

She popped up into an upright stance with a huge smile on her face. She had the same dark brown eyes as me, but in a general sense, hers were livelier—probably because she was always smiling. It was funny… Chris and Chloe were kind of opposites appearance-wise—his blonde hair and blue eyes versus her dark hair and dark eyes. And they were the same height at five-nine.

“Hey, handsome! What brings you by?”

Normally I wouldn’t stop in on a weekday because it wasn’t on my way to work, but Chris’s information had worried me all night and I knew I needed to drop by. Shrugging, I subtly glanced around the empty seating area. “Nothing in particular. Just thought I’d grab some coffee before work today. It’ll be a long one.” She gave me a funny look and I knew she didn’t believe me. I set a ten-dollar bill on the counter and added, “Whatever you want me to try.”

Without a verbal response, Chloe turned for one of her coffee making contraptions and went to work. She placed a large to-go cup in front of me and popped a lid on the top, and then slid the money back toward me. “Your money is no good here, Dane. Stop it.”

Smirking, I picked up the bill and stuffed it in the tip jar before finding a seat. I could feel my sister watching me, and a few seconds later, she came around the counter and stood in front of me with her arms folded across her chest.

“You’re staying? I could have given you a regular cup instead.”

“This is fine. And I can only stay a few minutes.” I knew she was chewing on her lip before I even glanced up to witness it. She did that when she was either mad or thinking too hard. “Join me,” I motioned to the chair across from me.

She actually did slide into the seat. I called that one “Fred” and Chloe hated that. All of her furnishings were vintage or repainted antique finds. It was the unique charm the place took on and it was totally Chloe. I always joked that people had probably died in these chairs, hence why I named them after their deceased owners.

She never found it funny.

“Talk,” she stated, giving me a look that said she was bracing herself for a lecture.

I was going to deny coming in for that reason, but thought better of it. “I’m just worried about you,” I admitted. “I want to help you out.”

“I don’t need help, Dane.”

Looking around the empty café was a shitty way to make a point, but she received the message loud and clear.

“There’s nothing more I can do,” my sister exhaled. I could see her swallow and I knew she was trying not to cry. She grabbed her braid of brown hair and twisted it methodically. “I’m out of ideas, aside from placing a damn ad in the nickel ads or something.”

I shrugged. “Try it.”

She bowed her head slightly. “I already did,” she mumbled, trying not to laugh.

She finally released a snicker and I laughed with her. When we were younger and both mad at our mom or dad, we always said we’d look through the nickel ads for new parents.

I paused for a few beats as Chloe stared at me with those big chocolate eyes. She blinked and a tear trickled out, but she brushed it away just as fast. “What are you doing tonight? Chris says he has to work late.”

She was changing the subject, but I allowed it. It killed me to see her upset. “Working, too. Clients are coming in for a final meeting this morning and then I want to finish their design. I’ll probably be on it pretty late so they can have it engineered this week.”

She nodded but seemed far away as she stared out the window. I wish I had answers; I wish I could fix things that were wrong or at least make my sister happy.

“Stop looking so depressed,” Chloe growled at me. I realized I was now the one staring dejectedly out the window. “I’m fine, Dane. If I have to close, I have to close. In fact, Chris and I would probably be better off that way—instead of him working his ass off at that dealership just so he can make up for the cost of my farfetched dreams.”

I scoffed as I stood, glancing at my watch. It was time to head out or I’d hit too much bridge traffic. “Chloe, your dream was not at all farfetched. Things just happen, and there was no way you could have expected
that
to happen.” I motioned down the street at the monstrous chain coffee shop—the one I had a lot of special names for.  

She stood and gave me a hug. “Thanks for stopping by. I love you.”

“I love you too. And seriously, if I can help, let me know.”

“I’ll let you help when you let me play matchmaker for you—”

“Hell no,” I choked out a short laugh. “Cold day in hell.”

She feigned a huge frown. “Sorry I’m a terrible cupid.”

“
Terrible
is a major understatement. I can’t even think of a word that’s awful enough.”

She slugged me in the arm. “Shut up! But yeah, you’re totally right. I know my weaknesses.”

Not wanting to dwell on more disappointment, I turned for the door. “See ya, sis.”

She handed me the to-go cup. “Don’t forget your ten-dollar coffee,” she quipped smugly.

***

Chloe’s shop wasn’t exactly on my way to work, so it was a twenty-minute drive for me to get back to the other side of the city. I had the radio on as background noise, and normally I couldn’t stand commercials and would switch the station as soon as I heard advertisements or voices talking, but I heard something that caught my interest this time and turned the volume up.

It was a female, announcing she had Monday’s
Slice of the City
segment, or something to that effect. I wasn’t usually still in my car at this time of the day so I’d never heard this particular part of the morning show, but it sounded like it was a regular thing. And her voice… I realized that’s why I’d taken notice. I loved the sound of her voice. Somehow it was a mix of smooth and gritty—a conflicting combination if you think about it—but it was the only way I could describe it at the moment.

“I find it really difficult to feel at home in some of these modern day establishments,”
she was saying.
“I guess I’m just an old soul who wishes some of the old charms could remain. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for growth and moving forward—there are many things I’m extremely happy about…”

God, yes, I loved her voice. It was soft…yet hit me hard. I mean she had my undivided attention and I even missed my exit for work. But for once, I wasn’t concerned and just drove south a bit further and then looped back onto the freeway. It would take me an extra ten minutes, but I wanted to keep listening to this “Slice of the City” thing, whatever it was. But now she was talking about coffee. I wanted to roll my eyes because I was still pissed that my sister was struggling in such an oversaturated market, which is what this woman was talking about too.

“But I have news for all of you folks who miss your traditional, relaxed coffee shop; those of you who want to skip the get-it-and-go rush, the frenzied hassle, the popularity of holding a name brand, overpriced paper cup of coffee…”

I was getting a bit annoyed at this point. All of it was true, and I wanted to shout how fucking stupid everyone was for being bandwagoners and following the fads. My sister had the perfect establishment to counter all of that bullshit and it made me mad that small business owners had to compete with huge corporations.

Maybe this lady needed some advice on where to go coffee shopping. I didn’t think they took calls during this portion of the broadcast, but if they did, I’d be more than happy to put in my two cents—

“Chloe’s Café at the end of Second Avenue is what you’ve been looking for. It’s just enough outside of the main bustle of the city, but close enough for walking to the waterfront or shopping. The furnishings are adorable and eclectic, you get an actual cup and saucer if you’re staying, there’s no WiFi, no hookups for electronics, and Chloe herself is absolutely adorable. Give it a try, send me your thoughts, and keep listening each Monday morning for a new slice of Portland—your city of roses and so much more.”

Then she recapped some businesses she’d visited throughout the month and reminded listeners they could check it out on the website if they missed any. She gave another rundown of my sister’s shop with the address, and then signed off.

I just sat there in my car. Somehow I’d ended up at my architecture firm but didn’t quite remember pulling into the parking lot. Finally I smiled and pumped a fist into the air with a cheer. It all hit me at once, and I felt a shitload of pride wash through me. I figured many people like me just skipped through stations and didn’t hear this sort of thing, but I was just happy someone else seemed to get what Chloe’s goal was all about.

It was a victory for my sister; therefore it was a victory for me.

For a Monday, I must have been unusually chipper that day. I entered my office on the third floor and was immediately greeted with curious stares. I knew the only one who would make a comment on it was Madden as he followed me into the conference room.

“Someone had sex.” He stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, stroking his beard, waiting for me to confirm.

I unrolled my current project on the table and scoffed. “It’s good news for Chloe, not me.”

“Oh Jesus,” he coughed. “I don’t need to be hearing your messed up family shit—”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m talking about my sister having some good news for once. My God, pull your sick mind out of the gutter.”

He paused for a few seconds and then helped himself to a pastry in the corner. Taking a bite, a flake of crust fell to the floor. He glanced down at it, but didn’t bother to clean it up. It caused my OCD to growl within. “So you didn’t get laid?” he asked with a full mouth.

Shaking my head, I bent over to pluck up the pastry crumble and tossed it in the trash. “No, and use a damn napkin or something.”

He moved over to the garbage and ate over the top of it instead, taking animalistic bites while not caring what crumbs dropped where. “Natalie avoiding you then? No sex means no Natalie.”

I didn’t even respond.

“So what’s the news? A happy Chloe makes for a happy Madden. Spill it.”

That was true. All of my friends cared about my sister and her wellbeing. I’d only known Madden for the three years I’d worked at Becker & Lewis, but we were somewhat cut from the same cloth. By somewhat I mean that I at least would not make a mess on the carpet just before a business meeting. Madden sort of skipped those kinds of manners, but we were both not like your typical office boys. I was wearing a button-up shirt right now, but only because clients were coming in. Normally I’d be in a t-shirt and jeans, like I was every other day in the office.

Yeah, we had a pretty cool boss in Clive Becker. I knew that from my very first interview with him because he was sitting there with a big ass tattoo sleeve on his right arm as he flipped through pages of my work. I showed him a couple of my tattoos on my chest and shoulder, and we talked about baseball. We had a casual dress policy here, but I liked to step it up a notch at least when I met with clients.

“So hurry up, what’s Sis’s news?” Madden asked as he sat in a conference chair.

I had about twenty minutes until my meeting, so I went through the details of my sister’s shop and then the lady on the radio this morning.

“Ohhh, yeahhhh,
Sinclair
.” He nodded like he knew exactly who I was talking about, and the smile on his face seemed a bit immoral. It kind of burst my bubble, like my imaginary connection with her wasn’t exclusive whatsoever now. “She’s got that phone sex voice and I just wanna…mmmmmm….” He closed his eyes with whatever depraved thought was going through his mind.

“Oh God, just…no.”

Madden’s eyes opened and he gave a casual shrug. “Hey, have an imagination. No one knows what she looks like, so I’m guessing she’s either fugly or fat. Or both. Maybe she’s got a huge wart on her face or she’s got bad teeth and hair or—”

“You’re such an asshole,” I shook my head. “Who cares what she looks like? She’s cool in my book. She knows a good business when she sees it.”

“Yeah, you’re not biased or anything. Maybe she’s too fugly to go anywhere that’s actually populated with, you know, other human beings.”

I hung my mouth open in utter disgust. “You’re a complete moron.”

Laughing, he held his hands out with no remorse. “Hey, someone’s gotta spell it out. That’s why I just listen to her voice and make up my own idea of her.”

“Still, you’re a judgmental prick. And she actually sounded fairly intelligent.”

“Ha, coming from the guy who rates a girl’s looks on a scale of one to ten? And she does sound smart, so at least she’s got that going for her.”

“So how come no one knows what she looks like?”

Madden chuckled. “Trust me, I tried. Went on the station’s website and everything, no pictures. She just goes by a first name, if that’s even her name. And because she’s out there basically reviewing these restaurants for the public, she keeps herself incognito.”