Sex, Lies and Her Impossible Boss. Jennifer Rae

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СКАЧАТЬ rushed in the window. It was humid and sticky but it was air and the blood rushing through her head eased. A little.

      ‘Triple figures?’

      ‘No!’ Faith’s emphatic answer surprised even her. ‘No. And I’d rather not discuss that with you.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because you’re my boss and it’s not...professional.’

      ‘Forget about that.’ He waved a hand out of the window. ‘The sun is shining, it’s a beautiful day and right now I’m not your boss. We’re just two people going for a drive. Enjoying each other’s company. Just talking.’

      The vinyl seats were sticking. Red was a big car but still Cash seemed too close to her. He took up too much space and too much air with his questions and his deep voice with its gravelly assurances. But she knew what he was doing—trying to get something out of her. Trying to get her to reveal something she didn’t want to. She had been working as a journalist long enough to know those tricks when she heard them.

      ‘My sex life is none of your business.’

      ‘I disagree. Your sex life is everyone’s business. Especially when you’ve made a career out of it. Which is what I find so interesting. Why are you so willing to talk about sex on camera but unwilling to discuss it in private? What’s happened to you in the past that makes you think sex is more than just sex? And why do you get so fired up every time I talk about getting rid of your show?’

      Definitely too close. ‘I get fired up because the Australian people need my show.’

      ‘No. No one is that honourable. People are only motivated by one of three things, Faith—fear, greed or lust. So what are you motivated by? Why is this show so important to you?’

      Faith felt as if she were snagged on a thorny bush. Cash was asking her questions she didn’t want to answer. He was saying things she didn’t want to talk about but she couldn’t sit there and say nothing.

      ‘If I had to choose from one of those, I’d have to say greed. I want to be successful. I want to be an award-winning journalist. I want people to know who I am.’

      Cash remained silent for a moment and she felt him studying her. She flicked her hair off her shoulder and tilted her chin. She didn’t care what he thought of her.

      ‘All right. I’ll pretend that’s your real answer. But why sex? Why love? Why relationships? Why not choose current affairs? Politics? Sports? They’re the flashy subjects that win the awards.’

      ‘I don’t care about sports or politics.’

      ‘But you care about sex and relationships.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And love.’

      Finally she turned to him and held his eyes with hers. ‘Yes. Love. I care about love.’ She wasn’t ashamed. She did care about love. She cared about it; she thought about it—she wondered why she could never find it. Something caught hard in her throat. She twisted her bottom lip between her teeth and turned back to the road, enjoying the glare of the sun as it bounced off the bitumen.

      ‘Love doesn’t exist, Faith.’

      He said it so quietly Faith wondered if she’d misheard him.

      ‘Of course it does. Everyone falls in love at one time or another in their life.’

      ‘That’s lust. Love is different.’

      ‘You’ve just disproven your own argument, Cash. If you know lust is different from love you obviously acknowledge that love exists.’

      ‘Maybe.’ He shrugged. ‘For some people. But it never lasts, which is why I prefer lust.’ A heavy ball formed in Faith’s stomach. This was not going well. He was going to fire her if he only believed in lust. Her show was based around the fact that everyone at some point in their lives would fall in love. Silence settled thickly around them. Cash was looking out the window and Faith could feel her career and the only thing that mattered in her life slipping away as the seconds ticked past.

      ‘We’re meeting with a tantric sex consultant this morning.’ Faith forced a smile onto her face, trying to dissipate the awkward atmosphere that had settled over them. She glanced at Cash. He was silent as he hung one arm on the car window.

      ‘Tantric sex?’ he said absently, glancing her way with a slight grimace. ‘Sounds fascinating.’

      She wanted to tell him it was. She wanted to explain how she’d been reading about how tantric sex could make sex a more intimate and intense experience. She wanted to give him the statistics on the rise of BSDM and she wanted to explain the benefits of the Jessica Rabbit vibrator over the previous year’s model, The Rampant Rocket. But she didn’t. He seemed distracted and she could feel herself losing him with every speed bump they went over in the road.

      ‘Is something wrong, Cash? Do you have something against tantric sex?’

      She heard the smile in his voice. ‘No. Just thinking.’

      ‘About?’ She shifted the old car into third and it jumped a little as she rounded the corner.

      ‘About you and your show. And about...’ She felt it when his eyes left her face and he turned away. ‘Never mind. Not your problem.’

      He sounded distracted, and a little bit sad. Which made her pay attention. Cash never sounded sad. Mad? Yes. Cross? Absolutely. Frustrated, impatient, angry? Yes, yes, yes. Sad? Never.

      ‘I’m sorry if I argued with you.’

      He turned back to her then and she felt his intense look. ‘You don’t have to apologise for disagreeing with me. I like that you disagree with me. I like that you ask questions and don’t let anyone walk all over you.’

      ‘Then what’s wrong?’

      ‘You know why they sent me out here, don’t you?’

      ‘To manage the station?’

      ‘To save the station. Things are not going well, Faith. I’ve been sent here to make cuts, to find ways to save money and increase revenue. I’m not here to be the big bad bully who ruins everyone’s fun and squashes everyone’s dreams.’

      Faith knew the station hadn’t done as well this year, but she hadn’t realised it was that bad. ‘My show is good, Cash. Moving it into prime time will attract more advertisers.’

      ‘Your show will never go to prime time, Faith. Last week you had someone use a vibrator on herself. That’s not prime-time TV. That would turn off our family viewers, not to mention our family advertisers.’

      ‘You couldn’t see anything. It was just the noise and the point was—’

      ‘It doesn’t matter what the point was. Sex isn’t acceptable on mainstream TV. Sport is. It’s not personal, Faith. It’s business.’

      Not personal? Losing her job was personal. Calling what she did unacceptable was personal. Making everything she’d achieved in the last two years out СКАЧАТЬ