He started taking the calls--surprised by how many listeners were clueless. "Must've all moved here in the great California migration," he said to the camera. But then caller number six got it right--Pecan Street--and Nolan pulled an old-fashioned car horn out of his prop box, held it above tub level, and squeezed the bubble at the end to make the thing toot in victory.
"And that's it--" he began, in his vocal cue to Connor that the segment was over. But Connor, damn him, signaled for him to continue the Naked News skit, apparently because Connor was dealing with some sort of glitch on the control board.
Well, fuck. Because while Nolan was more than comfortable bullshitting his way through life and riffing off of any piece of news or gossip, the only other bit of news he'd heard in the briefing wasn't something he wanted to think about, much less talk about.
But there was no more news. Not unless Nolan wanted to skim the paper himself and parse out a story on-the-air. Since that wasn't happening, Nolan had to either dive into the news about his ex-wife Lauren and her shiny new husband ... or else he had to sit on dead air time.
And Nolan never had dead air on his show.
Screw it, he thought. And then he dove into the cold, deep waters of humiliation.
"This next bit of news is part public service announcement. Just a friendly reminder to all you unsuspecting folks out there to handle newspapers carefully. You never know when the words are going to reach out and bite you. Like this morning. See this?" He pointed to his neck. "Teeth marks. Big, gnarly, pointy teeth marks. The kind that are only left by wild animals and ex-wives."
Connor lifted his head, frowning. Nolan wasn't surprised. Nolan had been twenty-two when he and Lauren had split after six very non-blissful months. He was twenty-nine now, and he rarely thought of her. And he certainly didn't tend to mention her in passing. Even during drunken male-bonding marathons of debauchery.
"She and her Senator husband--and, yeah, I mean one of our United States senators from Texas--are apparently in town for a few different events, including a reception last night at the Governor's mansion. I sure hope there were ice sculptures at the reception. Would be a shame to waste those chilly ex-wife vibes."
He intended to stop there, but his mouth kept going. "But seriously, I wish them both my best. Of course, she always said my best wasn't very good. But you know what? I think she's wrong. I mean, look at me now."
He indicated the fake tub with a sweep of his hand, then pushed himself up again and used one hand to indicate a chest that he knew damn well women drooled for. "Naked and on the radio. I mean, come on. Can it really get much better than that? So you know what, babe? Here's all I have to say to you."
He turned his hand to flip the bird, and saw that Connor got the camera shut down just seconds before that image went out live. But, Nolan was sure, not fast enough to appease Mannie.
And then, in a move of pure programming genius, Connor manipulated the controls and killed Nolan's mike as he faded in the boisterous strains of Toby Keith's How Do You Like Me Now?!
"Fucking perfect," Nolan said.
"What the hell?" Connor retorted. "I brief you on that article, you don't even mention that the Senator's wife used to be yours?"
"Trust me, it wasn't worth mentioning."
Connor's eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to decide if Nolan meant it.
He did.
"She's gorgeous, and I was young and stupid. But we never meshed
. She was a poor little rich girl, and all about her image. About making sure her whole life--and everyone in it--was picture perfect. When we were together, I thought she was a princess. And it took me a while to realize that she considered me a frog."
Before she'd walked out, she'd told him that she'd mistaken hot sex and multiple orgasms for love. That he was her walk on the wild side, and that it had been fun, but she wanted a man who would be somebody, and she should never have married him. Apparently, her idea of Prince Charming didn't include a high school drop-out who earned minimum wage as a file clerk and part-time board operator at a tiny AM station forty miles outside of Austin.
He shook his head, trying to knock the remnants of Lauren out of his brain. "It's better now. Mostly I hang with other frogs. And as for princesses..."
He trailed off with a shrug, thinking about all those gorgeous women who sought him out now because of his local celebrity. "I let them in my bed," he admitted, because Connor already knew that. And Nolan made damn sure that no woman he got horizontal with ever walked away unsatisfied or bemoaning his lack of sexual ambition. "But I'm not looking for anything serious."
He'd played the fool once. No way was he doing it again.
Chapter Two
"This is such a bad idea," Shelby muttered as she slid out of Hannah's Mercedes and tried to stand upright on the unfamiliar four-inch heels.
"Nonsense," Hannah said, looking over the car's roof at Shelby. The copper highlights in her mass of blond curls gleamed in the late afternoon sun, shining as bright as Hannah's mischievous grin. "Bachelorette parties require the appropriate gift. And trust me, when it comes to honeymoon supplies, no place in Austin is better than Forbidden Fruit."
Shelby glanced at the pink storefront in the artsy North Loop shopping area. The name was spelled out in huge letters above a wall of windows that made Shelby wince, because anyone walking by would see her in there. And Shelby was really not the kind of girl to go into a sex toy store. Yes, she owned a vibrator, but she'd bought it the proper way--in secret from a mail order store that promised discreet packaging. And even then she'd waited two days to open the box, and had locked herself in her bedroom before using her manicure scissors to slice through the packing tape.
All that, despite the fact that she lived alone and no one else had been in her house. But about some things, you really couldn't be too careful.
Hannah only laughed and shook her head as she came around the car to take Shel by the elbow. "You can do it. Come on. Consider it a life milestone. One wacky thing to check off your bucket list."