Work Text:
“Those mother fuckers !”
“Alex—”
“No, no. This is such bullshit. I swear to God if I could tell my younger self to stay the fuck away from fame, I’d do it. In a fucking heartbeat!” My office suddenly isn't big enough for the pacing I've started.
“Alex, seriously, you need to keep your voice down—”
“Excuse me?” I’m staring down the barrel of my anger at Chip, as he tries to tell me, Alex fucking Levy, to keep my voice down. “I know you’re not telling me what to do.”
Chip groans as he stands from my office couch, yanking his mask from his face in the process. He balls it up in his more-than-likely sweaty hands, and throws it as hard as he can across the room. It lands a foot in front of him. “Alex, I swear to God, this cannot get out any more than it already has.”
“What? What exactly do you mean?" I place my hand on my stomach and breathe in. "What can’t get out?”
“You! You with Bradley! You can’t do this. You just can’t.”
His words make my insides twist. “What do you think is going on between us? Hmm?”
He doesn’t answer. Just stares blankly at me.
“Chip, you realize that there is nothing going on between Bradley and me. It’s all rumors, conjecture.” Whelp, lie number one. Enter it into the books because I’m sure it won’t be the only one.
“Lemme get this straight, so to speak,” Chip says and I roll my eyes so hard I actually feel it straining my ocular muscles.
“Don’t be crass, you ass.”
He cracks a smile. I want to smack him. “You think a Page Six picture, an actual picture, of her coming out of your apartment building the day after Christmas is a rumor?”
“Okay, first of all, and probably the most important, why am I not allowed to hang out with my co-anchor? That makes absolutely no sense. Just because she likes women does not mean that I do.” I’m making a very good point. I’m proud of myself. Even if I am slightly fibbing.
“You’re allowed to hang out together, of course. But the day it comes out that she’s no longer getting married to Laura Peterson? You think that looks good? What were the two of you thinking?”
Point, Chip. “So, I’m not allowed to be there for her? As a friend? Isn’t that what America wants? For us to be friends?”
“Sure, sure. That’s what they want. Half of fuckin’ Twitter went nuts thinking you two were sleeping together, the other half was condemning you because they love Laura so much.” He mumbles the last part of his sentence while he pulls on his hair. When he finally turns to face me, it looks as if he’s stuck his tongue in a toaster. “Alex, Christ , you need to be careful. We just got you back on top.”
I can’t help but smile at him. He is a hot mess. I’m actually surprised that he hasn’t said fuck this and left me. He should have. I haven’t been a good person most of the time and I one-hundred-percent made his life a living hell. I’m trying so hard to fix that. To be better and happier and easier to work with. “I know. I know. Believe me. I’m simply being a friend to Bradley during a hard time.”
“Why do you and I always seem to fight over Bradley? Have you ever wondered that?”
“I have no fucking idea.” I laugh as I lean against the front of my desk. “She’s been a thorn ever since I plucked her from obscurity, hasn’t she?”
He nods then nudges me gently after he mimics my position against the desk. “I am only watching out for you. Let’s be real, the Mitch shit fucked you. Then COVID almost killed you, and shit, me, too. And my relationship, as well. Thank fuck I fixed that one.” He chuckles but there’s a small part layered beneath his tone where I think he sort of wanted that relationship to end. “So, let’s try to ring in 2021 without fucking things up even more.”
“I hear you. I promise.”
“Good.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. There’s an aura to him, as if he is going to say something else. He pushes from the desk, though and shoves his hands in his pockets. I know this nervous energy. I’ve worked with him for too long to not know his eccentricities. “Good show today. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Big show tomorrow. You ready?”
He rises onto his toes then bounces twice. Another nervous move. “New Year’s Eve? Yeah, sure, sure. Let’s just, uh, let’s get through the next few days. Try to keep the train on the tracks. Okay?”
And he turns to leave. I want to stop him and tell him to calm the fuck down because he’s making me nervous and I didn’t even do anything wrong. Except, maybe I have done something wrong?
Fuck.
The view from my office calms me on the days when I’m so stressed out I feel like electricity is coursing through my body. Sadly, today the view is not helping. I need to get out of here. I need to go back to my apartment…
Page Six. Fucking Page fucking Six. Coming to try and fucking bury me yet again. Fucking vultures. I knew someone was going to see her. I knew it. But I didn’t stop her, did I? I didn’t tell her to stop coming over. Why? Why couldn’t I see into the fucking future and see this was going to fuck the both of us? Goddammit.
I wanted her there. That’s why. I wanted her to spend the holiday— a holiday I honestly cannot stand—with me. I don’t even celebrate actual Christmas, for crying out loud. Why did a part of me love celebrating it with her then?
I’m so confused. I’ve been with no one but men for the past twenty-six years. Why are these feelings suddenly starting to happen again? Is this a mid-life crisis? I certainly hope so, because a crisis means eventually it’ll be over. And I can get my head back on my shoulders instead of up in the clouds, wondering if Bradley is feeling at all the same way I am feeling.
I don’t ever think about other people like this. God, that makes me sound like such a bitch. And maybe I am. Or at least I was… This whole turning over a new leaf thing is for the fucking birds. Because if it means that it’s okay to think about people I shouldn’t be…well… fuck.
All the hours and hours and hours I spent thinking about Bradley fucking Jackson… Since the moment I met her she has occupied entirely too much space in my brain. I used to hate it, turning a corner in my mind just to find her sitting there, with her dark hair and her stupid attention to detail. Maine helped get rid of her. I have Cory Ellison to thank for her haunting return to my psyche. Seeing her at the dinner he threw was…too much for me, for my barely holding it together mental state. Blonde and beautiful and so sure of herself. And then her hating me?
Jesus. I couldn’t handle it. I hate being hated. Bradley hating me, though, was something else entirely. She went from being a cute little puppy to being a beautiful big monster and I thought I could handle it. I was lying to myself.
I have got to start being honest with myself. I’m too old to keep up this charade. I am a formidable woman with so much going for her. Past scandals, notwithstanding. I can do this. I can rise above Page fucking Six for the eight-hundredth time. With Bradley by my side.
God, I really need to get my shit together. Fuck…
“So…” Bradley’s voice is low and soft and it sends a chill up my spine.
“You know we shouldn’t be doing this, though, right?” I glance around the small hotel bar we’ve found ourselves in, making sure no one has their eyes on us. Trying to avoid being seen is damn near impossible. We’re on America’s screens every weekday morning. No privacy. Ever. It’s all part of the gig, though, so we should be used to it. However, the way people’s prying eyes feel when they’re witnessing something clandestine is on another level of frightening.
Bradley lets out a puff of air and she shakes her head before she sips from the bourbon she ordered. She lets out a shaky breath and chuckles. “I don’t know what this is, Alex. I don’t know what we’re doing.” Since the moment we met up, she has avoided every opportunity to look at me. It’s obvious something is bothering her.
“I know what you’re doing.”
She shakes her head again. “What am I doing?”
“You, Bradley Jackson, are avoiding eye contact with me.” And that finally gets her to look at me. “There we go.” I offer her a small smile as a thank you. “We are doing nothing wrong, right?”
“Right. But…” She looks away. The bar is empty, save for a small table near the hallway to the lobby. No one cares that we’re here. I hope. “Why does this matter, though? Why does it matter if we’re friends,” she pauses and looks directly into my eyes, “or if we’re fucking?” She pulls a sharp breath in before she ends with, “Like, who the fuck cares?”
“Well, we aren’t fucking, so…” I drink my vodka, soda, and lime. She is still watching me, though, and her eyes on me have jump started my body. “Stop.”
“Stop, what?”
“Staring at me.”
“You just scolded me for not looking at you. Now you’re telling me to stop?” She scoffs. “And to think I wondered why you’re still single.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Nice. Real nice, Bradley Jackson.”
“Well? Why are you?”
“What? Still single?” I shrug. I don’t really know how to answer this question. “I guess, part of it is the fact that I actually don’t really like people.” She chuckles at that and I take another sip of my drink. It’s not strong enough for my liking, or this conversation, but whatever. “The constant scrutiny is hard, too. Trying to find someone who can take being in the public eye is hard. And, at the end of the day, as hard as it may be to believe, I actually don’t enjoy always being gawked at.”
“Why?”
I groan. “I don’t know. I just…” I breathe in and hold it for a few seconds before pushing it out through my nose. “It’s easy to believe I’ve lost my luster. That this new ingenue is giving me a run for my money. That I’m not…” good enough, I finish my sentence in my head.
“What? Good enough? Is that what you were going to say?”
I can see her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. She’s boring holes into my profile. And then, as if she realizes her angry stare could bring down an entire world, her face softens. “Alex,” she whispers. “It’s hard to not look at you. You’re gorgeous. And you are,” a sly smile stretches across her lips, “Absolutely amazing when you’re pushed to be the best version of yourself.”
My body, from my head to my toes, flushes with heat. “You think you’re the one who pushes me?”
“Absolutely.” Her smile is breathtaking. “And lately, you’ve been on fire. You don’t miss a beat. You’re fresh and fun. And, bonus, you don’t even look or act stressed.”
My cheeks are on fire. “Maybe it’s all the sleep I’ve been getting.”
“Maybe.” She takes a small sip of her drink, swirls the dark liquor around the ice ball. “God.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
“What?”
“You.” She lets out a small chuckle. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
My heartbeat instantly starts to gallop. “Oh?”
She doesn’t respond for one beat, two, three. “Yeah. And God, sleeping next to you?” A sigh escapes from her. It’s breathy and has a small growl at the end. “You are incredibly easy to sleep next to.” She turns, her eyes are on me now, and she seems as if she’s searching for something. The answer to a question or maybe her sanity. And mine. “I missed that calm last night. All alone in my big bed, no warm Alex Levy to snuggle.” She licks her lips and this time, I’m the one who has to look away. “Alex?”
“Hmm?” Suddenly, the shape of my glass is all I can focus on.The way the fizz lifts the straw in the water, doesn’t allow it to completely sink to the bottom. For the weirdest of reasons, Bradley reminds me of that fizz and I’m that straw, bouncing around, suspended by her.
“Laura is the one who tipped off the paparazzi.”
“What?” My head snaps toward her. “Why? Why would she do that?”
“I’m sure there are a multitude of reasons.” Bradley shrugs, drinks, then spins on her stool so she’s facing me. When she places her foot on the rung of my stool, her knee presses into the side of my thigh. It’s these little moments of touch that have me reeling. I mean, among every other thing that has happened. But when she casually touches me. Or brushes against me. Or on the show earlier this morning when she pressed her body into me as Ana Gasteyer sang a song from her album Sugar and Booze. I can’t seem to shake her. “She knew I was there, licking my wounds. Or whatever.”
“Great.” My groan that follows is impossible to hold back. “Bradley, I mean, seriously, what the fuck are we doing?” I can feel her eyes on me even though I’m the one who is now swearing off eye contact. “We can’t keep sneaking around doing whatever the fuck we’re doing—”
“Alex. Stop.”
Her hand is on my arm now. She squeezes lightly then keeps it there and the connection, the physical tether, makes my throat ache. My eyes are drawn to her, to her short, perfectly rounded nails, to the absence of any jewelry, to the thin scar along the top of her hand.
“Just…stop.”
“But what if—”
“I know.” Bradley moves her hand and the spot on my arm has the warmth of her touch still. It’s unnerving. “We’re important friends, remember? And that’s all.” A smile spreads across her lips before she drinks the rest of her bourbon.
“Friends who have slept together.”
She chuckles. “Exactly. But like, legit sleep. Who can blame us?”
“True. I mean, we sort of have a connection to each other that other people don’t understand.”
“Exactly.”
“We’re the only two people in America who know what it means to be the stars of the number one morning show in the country.”
“Exactly .”
“We understand the pressure. The pressure of fame .”
“The pressure of desire.”
Bradley’s eyes are so blue and looking into them makes my stomach bottom out. I don’t desire her. I don’t. Fuck . Maybe I do? I mean, I do think about her an awful lot. And it’s been so long since I’ve actually had sex. Going on three years. Three long, miserable years. “Desire, hmm?”
“Yeah, desire.”
“Bradley…” Her name comes out as a whisper and she shrugs.
“You have to have known I always…” She pauses, smiles. “You’re Alex Levy. I idolized you.”
“Jesus.” I tear my gaze away from her again. “This makes me the older mentor who takes advantage of the mentee, doesn’t it? Fuck, fuck, fuck.” My stomach is in knots. Oh my God, I am Mitch Kessler. Holy shit.
She laughs. “Alex, come on. That is not the case. You haven’t taken advantage of me at all.” She grabs my hand and pulls until I turn toward her. Instantly, my mind flashes back to the first time we had drinks together. Via Zoom. A month after I finally recovered from COVID. We both drank too much, but it was so fun. We laughed while I was sprawled out on my bed, my MacBook plugged in because I had already killed it the first two hours we were chatting. That six hour conversation was the first time we ever sat and actually talked. Like two friends who would never judge each other. She told me about her past, her mom, her dad, her brother. She told me she hid being bisexual for as long as she could remember. She told me about Laura and how breathless she made her. I understood every single thing she was saying. And I understood, all too well, the fucking fear that comes with acknowledging you’re different.
There were moments when I understood how Bradley fell for Laura, because, well, I also fell for Laura. But I also understand, now, how Laura fell for Bradley, because, once again, I am also falling…for Bradley…
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Am I going to fucking fall for whomever my partner is on this stupid fucking show? How dumb am I?
“I think we need to stop questioning this.” Bradley’s tone is layered, but on the outside she’s calm. Cool as a cucumber. And I’m freaking the fuck out.
“That’s easy for you to say. I don’t know if I can beat yet another scandal.”
She chuckles. “You’re joking, right? I don’t think people would be as horrified as you think they’d be.” And she lets go of my hand and grabs her phone. She’s tapping through to the Twitter app, where she pulls up #BRALEX. “We literally already have a ship name.”
I grab her phone and scroll through the tweets.
Oh, my God, did y’all see the picture of Bradley doing the walk of shame out of Alex’s building? That’s super fruity. And I’m down for it. #BRALEX
Alex Levy is such a MILF. Jealous? Me? Absolutely. Go Bradley, go!
I’m not sure who I’m more happy for, Alex or Bradley? I mean, they’re both hot as fuck. #BRALEX FOREVER
What if this is real? I don’t think I can handle BRALEX being real. YOU GUYS I AM SCREAMING.
ugh, thank god mitch is gone and alex can finally be the fruity fruit she deserves to be.
I pass the phone back to Bradley and she smiles. “See?”
“What the hell?”
“People love us together.” She laughs. “I’m sure there are some who would hate it, like, oh, my mom for one, but who cares? It’s not like we have to come out on national television. We can still be seen together.”
“Chip made it seem like it was this huge fucking deal that would ruin me.” I shake my head. “What the hell?”
She scoffs. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“No, seriously ? You don’t know why he’d be telling you not to do this? Come on, Alex. He’s in love with you. He has been for years.” She furrows her brow. “You honestly don’t know that?”
I do. I do know it. It’s been uncomfortable at times. I love Chip so much. But… “I know. I just figured it was no longer an issue.”
“Ha! It’ll always be an issue. He carries that flame for you like a prize he won.” She stops. “Not that you aren’t a prize.”
I laugh at her. “You don’t have to suck up to me. I already like you.”
“Oh?” She slides off her stool and pulls a wad of money from her back pocket. She slaps it onto the bar top. “You like me, hmm?”
“I do.” I pull my coat on after I stand and head to the door of the bar. “Are we sneaking you into my place or what?”
She grins as she pulls a knit hat onto her head and slides on a pair of sunglasses. “Is this incognito enough?” And we laugh as we exit the building, knowing full well, neither of us are ever going to be incognito enough for this to actually work.
“Alex?” Bradley’s breath brushes against my shoulder. She’s not snuggled up next to me yet and, ugh, I sort of miss it.
This is, by far, the strangest relationship I have ever been in. We got home, we drank a glass of wine, and we went to bed. For two women who seem to be drawn together in the most inexplicable way, we certainly don’t take advantage of what we have in front of us. We don’t kiss. We don’t hug. We talk. We snuggle. And eventually, we sleep. I won’t lie: at this point, I’m ready for something more, as weird as that may sound. I can’t keep denying this tingling, nagging feeling inside me for much longer. “Yes?” I finally say.
“Did you love Laura?”
Of all the fucking questions… “Why?”
“Just wondering.” She’s whispering, but I can still hear the emotion in her voice layered just beneath the curiosity.
“I think I could have, if I would have let go of myself a little.” Suddenly, I’m remembering the way Laura used to smile at me and it makes my throat ache. A part of me feels as if I’m the reason she and Bradley didn’t work out. Add it to the list of reasons why Laura Peterson hates me, I guess.
“You don’t ever let go of yourself, do you?”
I smile as I look at her. “Not typically. At least not lately. As you know, it’s not easy when you’re all over the tabloids.” A sigh escapes, the memory of Laura’s attempt at holding my hand in public causing me to clamp my eyes shut. “I don’t wish for things to be different, of course. But God, it would have been nice to not care so much, you know what I mean?”
“I do.”
“What are you thinking?” I turn to look at her and her eyes begin to wander over me, my face, my eyes, nose, mouth, down my neck.
“You are so much more than I ever anticipated.”
Right this second, she seems so small, as if her admission has taken away some of her gumption. I roll toward her and reach over to run my hand down her side. “You’re the one who has surprised me. In every sense of the word.” The ache in my throat has sunk down to my heart, where it’s throbbing and all I want to do is kiss her. I have never wanted something more in my entire life. It’s too soon, though. I can’t do this now. She just broke up with Laura. I just came back from the other side of cancellation. I can’t do this now.
Yet, suddenly, I see her coming closer and before I know it, Bradley Jackson is kissing me. And as quickly as it began, she’s yanking herself away, as if zapped by electricity or by the stark reality of the situation that she is kissing me . Me! Her co-anchor who tried to get her fired, who supposedly hated her, who had sex with her ex-girflriend. “I’m sorry.”
“Bradley—”
“No, no. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I just… you’re you and I have been… ugh… I don’t know. And then there’s Laura and I just ended things. And the tabloids and Page Six and what the fuck.” She is now on her back, staring up at the ceiling, her hands shoved into her hair at the temples. “I am so dumb.”
“Jesus. That was quite the journey.” I chuckle before I finally say, “You did nothing wrong.” Her face morphs from embarrassed to relieved in an instant. “I just think we need to really be careful here.”
“Yes. You’re right.” Her tone isn’t as sure as her words, though, and my heart can feel the uncertainty in her voice.
“Hey, wait,” I say as I roll toward her. “Bradley, listen to me.” She is staring up at the ceiling again. Her pale skin allows the blue of her veins to show through near her temple. I reach over and place my hand on her face, and turn her so she’s looking at me. “I don’t half-ass things. It’s not in my nature.” I run two fingers along her jawline. She bites down on her lip, her blue eyes unwavering. “I can’t do this if you’re going to pull a Bradley on me and leave when things get serious.”
“A Bradley, hmm?” The smile on her face tells me she didn’t take offense.
I nod. “Please don’t forget you’re not the only person this will affect. There’s me, yes, but there’s also Lizzy. And as resilient as she is, she’s still my daughter and I have to protect her.”
“I know,” she whispers.
“And you…you still have Laura, don’t you?”
A breath seems to catch in her throat as she blinks rapidly, then a tiny nod follows. I don’t know why she would ever think I assumed it was completely over between them. I know it’s not. I know it won’t be. Hell, I know it might not ever be.
“So, let’s try to remember how delicate this balance is, okay?”
“Alex?” She lets out a breath. “She blames you.”
“Of course she does.”
“She’s not wrong.” Bradley shrugs one shoulder and her lips press together. “I fell for you the second I saw you… standing there in front of me… getting ready to interview me… I was beside myself. I’ve spent almost every moment since then fighting it, of course, because you were so—”
“Awful to you?”
“I was going to say such a raging bitch, but yeah, let’s go with awful.”
I laugh and the sincerity behind her words and my laughter feels so good. “Yeah, I wasn’t very nice, was I?”
“No, you weren’t. There were moments when I saw that hard exterior cracking. Few and far between, but there were moments.”
“You scared me,” I say softly and her eyes widen. My admission shocks me, too. “I’d never…been around someone who pushed me the way you did. You were everything I used to be and everything I knew I needed to be again.” I want to tell her how I couldn’t find a way back to that Alex without shedding all those layers of lies that I’d been spending years putting myself behind because that would mean being even more honest now, owning up to all the times I lied to protect myself. I’ve worked most of my life to love myself. It’s important in this business to not let the dreaded imposter syndrome take over. I don’t second guess much. Except Bradley Jackson. I’ve second guessed her a thousand times but I always end up at the same answer. “You were, you are, the most authentic person I have ever been around.”
“Alex,” she says, her voice cracking. “You realize if you’d been this nice then things would be very different?”
“Oh, I know, which is both good and bad.”
“I fell for all of you, Alexandra Levy. Then and now. But then, I would have never waited like I did now.”
This time, it’s my turn to move closer and place my lips on hers. Kissing her reminds me of being young again, realizing I’m full of life and have no idea who I am but am, for some reason, still in love with every single part of myself. Before fame made me selfish and lies made me cruel and pain made me fragile. She makes my heart beat again, as if I’m finally realizing that I’m worthy of happiness and love.
My alarm goes off at half past three, as always. I’m awake, though, which isn’t surprising especially because every time I closed my eyes, I started to obsess about what the fuck I’m doing. When I roll over to shut it off, I bump into Bradley. She’s on my side of the bed again. I still haven’t been able to just tell her that’s my side. I guess, honestly, it’s now her side.
“You gotta turn that off,” I whisper against her ear and the smile I feel in her cheeks makes my entire body flush with heat. She rolls, reaches over, her blond hair a mess, and clicks the alarm off.
She groans when she rolls back into me, her face now nuzzled into my cleavage. I wonder if she can hear the thumping of my heart. “What were we thinking staying up so late?” Her voice is muffled and the heat from her breath is a turn on I did not see coming.
“I have no fucking idea,” I say as I breathe out and when the words leave my mouth, she breathes in deep.
“I love how you smell,” she says softly. “Laundry detergent and lavender.”
“The lavender helps me sleep.” I want to laugh at myself. Why am I explaining smells to her? Every single time I tell her something, all it’s doing is letting her creep deeper and deeper into my life. My life that I’ve kept as painstakingly private as possible.
She lifts her head and before I can protest because, ugh, morning breath, she presses her lips into mine. The kiss is so soft, so everything I’ve always wanted in the morning. I’m so aroused I can barely function. Jason was removed for most of our marriage. And even when he was present, I didn’t want what he was offering. Especially early morning kisses. Or all night make out sessions. “Did you sleep at all last night?” Her question is asked between gentle kisses that she places along my jawline and it still gives me pause that I never pictured her to be the gentle one.
“Maybe two hours…” Her light touches are almost too much for me. “Bradley?”
“Hmm?”
“We need to get up and get ready,” I say with a small giggle as she kisses a spot on my neck that is so very ticklish. “We cannot both be late.”
Her small, “Hmph, fine,” is so adorable that it takes everything in me to not pull her back for more when she finally rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling. “Are we going to go in together or should I ride in separately?”
It’s a valid question. One I don’t think I’ve even thought about. It’d be a real fuck you to Chip after our conversation yesterday. But that bratty vindictive part of me isn’t even the one that wants her to ride in with me. It’s the part of me that is starting to miss her when she’s not around me. “Yeah, I mean, what the fuck? Why not?” I semi-shout from my bathroom. I peek out at her, sitting on the edge of the bed, a smile on her face. “You are more than welcome to shower here, too.”
“With you?”
“Uhh…” My heart is in my throat. How do I answer this? What do I say? Oh my fucking God.
“I’m kidding, Alex,” she says with a laugh. “I’ll use Lizzy’s bathroom.” And she struts off in her panties and my night shirt, leaving my bedroom behind.
Is it wrong that I actually wanted to say yes…?