The Mistake(110)

“You know, because you and Morris went out.”

I laugh. “Once. And my behaviour didn’t exactly warrant a second date. I think this is awesome. You totally just made my day—and trust me, my day has been shit, so it really needed to be made.”

“Oh no. What happened?”

My bad mood returns like an unwanted rash. “I got in a fight with Logan. And that’s all I’m saying on the subject, because if I talk about it right now, it’ll just piss me off again and then I’ll be too distracted to produce Dumb and Dumber’s show.”

We both glance at the main booth, where Evelyn is using the reflection on her water glass to check her makeup, dabbing delicately at her eye shadow. Pace is engrossed with his phone, his chair tipped back so far that I predict a very loud disaster in the near future.

“God, I love them,” Daisy says with a snicker. “I don’t think I’ve ever met two more self-absorbed people.”

Morris saunters out of the booth and wanders over to us. He notices Daisy’s shirt and says, “Sweetheart, we’re at work. Show some decorum.”

“Says the guy who ripped this shirt off me in the supply closet.” Rolling her eyes, she takes a step away. “I’m going to make myself presentable in the bathroom. I’d do it out here, but I’m scared Dumber might take a picture and post it on a porn site.”

“Wait, the names Dumb and Dumber actually correspond to each of them?” Morris says in surprise. “I thought it was more of a general thing. Which one is Dumber?”

The second the question leaves his mouth, a muffled crash reverberates from the booth, and we all turn to see Pace tangled up on the floor. Yup, the guy who spent an hour regaling me about his cow-tipping days back in Iowa? Tipped himself right over.

From behind the glass, Pace bounces to his feet, notices us staring, and mouths the words, “I’m okay!”

Morris sighs. “I withdraw the question.”

As Daisy leaves to fix her shirt, Morris casually follows me to the booth door. “First caller’s already on hold,” he tells me. “I screened her and wrote her info on the sheet.”

My forehead creases. “Did you open the lines before I got here?”

He wears a sheepish look. “Not on purpose. I was calling my dad and pressed the wrong button, and then the phone rang and I was already in there so I took the caller’s info. She’s got an urgent G-spot question for Evelyn, so this should be interesting.”

“Isn’t it always?” I say with a grin.

I take my seat and conduct my pre-show check. The blinking lights on the phone tell me there are more callers waiting to be screened. I chat with the first one, verify his motives, then send him back on hold. I’m about to screen the next one when Pace and Evelyn kick off the show.

“What’s up, broskis!” Pace greets the radio audience. “You’re listening to Whatcha Need with Pace ’N Evelyn.”

Cringing, Evelyn leans into her microphone. “Before we start, I’d like to ask everyone to speak in their indoor voices today, because I am currently sporting a brutal hang-over.” She glares at her co-host. “I’m talking to you, asswipe.”

And so it begins.

“Let’s chat with our first caller,” Pace says cheerfully. “Who we talking to right now?”

Since I’m not eager to listen to Evelyn talk about G-spots, I lean forward to take another call, only to freeze in my chair when a familiar voice wafts out of the speaker over the door.

“Hey, this is Logan.”

My pulse speeds up.

Oh God.

What the hell is he doing?

“Tell us whatcha need, my man.”

My boyfriend audibly clears his throat. “Well, here’s the thing, Pace. And Evelyn—hey, Evelyn, female opinion definitely appreciated. I’m hoping you guys can give me some advice on how to win my girl back.”

Pace chuckles into the mic. “Ooooh boy. Someone found themselves in the dog house?”

“Big-time,” Logan confirms.

“What’d you do to piss off your lady? We need the deets before we dispense the wisdom.”

Every inch of me tenses as I await Logan’s response. God. I can’t believe he’s about to air our dirty laundry on this stupid campus show.

“Long story short? I projected my own fears and insecurities on her, and made some presumptions that I probably shouldn’t—”