Trust Issues
Boston July 26, 2004
Fleet Centre
Democratic Convention
He tries to get away, to get out of the area before she can catch him, but it's a losing proposition. She follows him through the exit doors and shoves him up against the wall of the stairwell like a grade school bully demanding his lunch money.
"Don't you ever pull out your earpiece on the air again."
"You were talking"
"It's my job! I'm your producer you punk!"
"You were saying the same thing over and over"
"Because you weren't listening!"
"I was listening."
"Then when I tell you to ask the question_ Ask. The godamn. Question."
"Look," he says calmly, "I have some cred, you know! I'm not just some pretty boy newscaster!"
"You're not EVEN a pretty boy newscaster! At least then you'd do as you're told!"
He rolls his eyes and her temperature goes sky high.
"Look Buster, let's get one thing straight_when I am your producer I own you! You are mine for that the time we are on the air!" she snarls punctuating her comments by poking him in the chest. "Do you understand?"
He raises both hands in surrender, wishing he could take a step farther back or just lean down and kiss her…where the hell did that thought come from! He tries banishing it but is overwhelmed by how incredibly turned on he is by her anger and general bossiness. Oh god! He sees months of analysis with Abe looming. He totally misses her question.
"Will?"
"What?"
"I'm waiting for an answer."
"What was the question?"
"Arghhh!" she throws her hands in the air, turns, yanks open the door and stalks out into the basement of the Fleet Centre. The door clips closed behind her, the sound echoing through the stairwell.
He leans his head back against the cool concrete wall for just a moment and closes his eyes. Like a house on fire. Right you are, Charlie.
He finds her at the bar of the hotel drinking scotch straight up and sits down beside her. She doesn't look at him, but instead signals that she'd like the bill.
He grabs it from the bartender's hand.
"I got this."
"I can pay for my own drinks."
"Think of it as an apology."
"Rather than you actually apologizing?"
He has the grace to look chagrinned.
"You're good at this Will but if you'd trust me a little more you could be even better."
"I do trust you…"
"If you have to… you guess…" she says dryly.
He signals to the bartender for a drink and waits to take a deep swallow of scotch before replying.
"I may have a few issues around relying on other people."
She turns and looks at him. "Really Billy? I would never have known," she deadpans.