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Authors: Natalie J. Damschroder
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Damschroder
CHAPTER 5
"Stupid people," she murmured, still staring. He grinned back at her, clearly pleased with his effect.
"What does that mean?" he asked.
Sophie snapped back to herself. "Sure, juries give big awards for ridiculous lawsuits. I have a theory for that, too.
Too many stupid people. That's what a lot of problems boil down do, actually. Stupid people." She watched the board, lit up with calls. "None of my listeners are in that category, of course." A few of them went out, and she winked at Parker.
"So you think juries are stupid?" he asked.
"Well, think about it. Attorneys don't want to pick people who will think for themselves. They want people who are easily swayed. People who will listen to what they tell them, and that's all. Ignorant people. Uneducated people. Stupid people."
"You're harsh, Sophie."
"Well, there's one reason juries are equally to blame."
"What's that?"
"They hope to set a precedent so when they steal someone's TV and hurt their back, they can get lots of money they're not entitled to, too. After this commercial, we'll see what you think, listeners. 555-3246. Call now."
She closed her mike and leaned back in her chair. Melina was busy screening calls for the next set, so Sophie beckoned to Stevie through the observation window. He slipped in the door, but kept his hand on the knob.
72
Sophie's Playboy
by Natalie Damschroder
"How on earth did you find him?" She waved a hand at Parker. Biff. "And what do I call you?" She glowered at the guy she supposed was her sidekick. Great. Now she couldn't date him. She wasn't breaking that rule again.
Stevie tugged at his shirt collar. "Well, we had to search—"
"That's not important, Stevie," Parker interrupted. He didn't look at the poor guy when he dismissed him. "Sophie and I had better settle a couple things before the break's over." Stevie slipped back out.
Sophie stared at Parker. Biff. Whatever. "You are so arrogant." She would never talk to a boss as if he were an underling, and at the station, Stevie was their boss.
Biff had the nerve to look surprised. "Arrogant? About what?"
"Never mind." She waved her hand between them. "What the hell do I call you?"
"You can call me Parker."
"Where did Biff come from?"
Melina tapped on the glass and motioned five seconds.
"I'll explain later." Parker/Biff slid his headphones back on and Sophie prepared to take the first caller. As soon as the show was over—one of the best Rant and Raves ever, Sophie grudgingly admitted—she dragged Parker/Biff to the empty break room. Her show ended at seven and the offices were mainly deserted by then. Thank God.
"Okay. Biff. Parker. What is going on? Start with your name—which is driving me nuts ," she said through gritted teeth, "and go on from there."
73
Sophie's Playboy
by Natalie Damschroder
He somehow managed to maintain his air of arrogance even while he dropped change in the soda machine, then sat on a dirty plastic chair and set his arm and Coke can on the matching dirty plastic table.
"My name is Parker Cornwall. My father was Biff Cornwall, and passed the name on to me. Everyone calls me Biff, but I didn't want you to know who I was the first time I called."
Sophie sat next to him. She was still frowning, and Parker wanted to kiss the furrows in her forehead. That tendency toward tenderness was new, and kind of scary. It flowered when Sophie looked at him with sympathy instead of the frustration she'd flashed his way all afternoon.
"Your father is dead?" she asked.
The question seemed to come out of the blue. Parker forgot his contemplation of her sleek eyebrows. "What? Dead?
No."
"You said he was Biff Cornwall."
"Oh. We're not that close."
"So, should I call you Biff or Parker?" She tilted her head at him, the frustration back but tempered—he hoped—by excitement. Or anticipation. He thought they could make a beautiful talk show together.
And maybe more.
"Parker," he said, deliberately injecting intensity into
CHAPTER 5
"Stupid people," she murmured, still staring. He grinned back at her, clearly pleased with his effect.
"What does that mean?" he asked.
Sophie snapped back to herself. "Sure, juries give big awards for ridiculous lawsuits. I have a theory for that, too.
Too many stupid people. That's what a lot of problems boil down do, actually. Stupid people." She watched the board, lit up with calls. "None of my listeners are in that category, of course." A few of them went out, and she winked at Parker.
"So you think juries are stupid?" he asked.
"Well, think about it. Attorneys don't want to pick people who will think for themselves. They want people who are easily swayed. People who will listen to what they tell them, and that's all. Ignorant people. Uneducated people. Stupid people."
"You're harsh, Sophie."
"Well, there's one reason juries are equally to blame."
"What's that?"
"They hope to set a precedent so when they steal someone's TV and hurt their back, they can get lots of money they're not entitled to, too. After this commercial, we'll see what you think, listeners. 555-3246. Call now."
She closed her mike and leaned back in her chair. Melina was busy screening calls for the next set, so Sophie beckoned to Stevie through the observation window. He slipped in the door, but kept his hand on the knob.
72
Sophie's Playboy
by Natalie Damschroder
"How on earth did you find him?" She waved a hand at Parker. Biff. "And what do I call you?" She glowered at the guy she supposed was her sidekick. Great. Now she couldn't date him. She wasn't breaking that rule again.
Stevie tugged at his shirt collar. "Well, we had to search—"
"That's not important, Stevie," Parker interrupted. He didn't look at the poor guy when he dismissed him. "Sophie and I had better settle a couple things before the break's over." Stevie slipped back out.
Sophie stared at Parker. Biff. Whatever. "You are so arrogant." She would never talk to a boss as if he were an underling, and at the station, Stevie was their boss.
Biff had the nerve to look surprised. "Arrogant? About what?"
"Never mind." She waved her hand between them. "What the hell do I call you?"
"You can call me Parker."
"Where did Biff come from?"
Melina tapped on the glass and motioned five seconds.
"I'll explain later." Parker/Biff slid his headphones back on and Sophie prepared to take the first caller. As soon as the show was over—one of the best Rant and Raves ever, Sophie grudgingly admitted—she dragged Parker/Biff to the empty break room. Her show ended at seven and the offices were mainly deserted by then. Thank God.
"Okay. Biff. Parker. What is going on? Start with your name—which is driving me nuts ," she said through gritted teeth, "and go on from there."
73
Sophie's Playboy
by Natalie Damschroder
He somehow managed to maintain his air of arrogance even while he dropped change in the soda machine, then sat on a dirty plastic chair and set his arm and Coke can on the matching dirty plastic table.
"My name is Parker Cornwall. My father was Biff Cornwall, and passed the name on to me. Everyone calls me Biff, but I didn't want you to know who I was the first time I called."
Sophie sat next to him. She was still frowning, and Parker wanted to kiss the furrows in her forehead. That tendency toward tenderness was new, and kind of scary. It flowered when Sophie looked at him with sympathy instead of the frustration she'd flashed his way all afternoon.
"Your father is dead?" she asked.
The question seemed to come out of the blue. Parker forgot his contemplation of her sleek eyebrows. "What? Dead?
No."
"You said he was Biff Cornwall."
"Oh. We're not that close."
"So, should I call you Biff or Parker?" She tilted her head at him, the frustration back but tempered—he hoped—by excitement. Or anticipation. He thought they could make a beautiful talk show together.
And maybe more.
"Parker," he said, deliberately injecting intensity into
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