Better Together

By Kadee Shore

If you love Janet Evanovich, Susan Elizabeth Phillips or a good laugh in general, you will love Better Together.

Cassie had game but her life and upwardly mobile career go from New York’s top classic rock radio Program Director to being blackballed from the industry and city she loves quicker than a seven second delay. Cassandra Steel’s future is tangled with the lamest job offer ever, forged signatures, an absent crook and a hottie for a lawyer. With her trusty Newfie, knock off shoe collection, and sassy attitude she pulls her rented truck into a quirky beach community determined to stay out of jail the only way she knows; hard work, epic eye rolls and a do what is necessary series of post it notes to get back to New York City, ASAP. To save her career she’s gotta “make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear” as the natives would say. Job #1, establish a local TV station. What awaits, is a cast of characters who put a Crayola box of options back into local color and open Cassie’s life while a certain young attorney opens her heart. As the Rolling Stones say, “You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you find, you get what you need.”
“I laughed out loud in the first chapter,” Penny Reid.

A full-length, HEA novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kadee Shore
• Release date: Feb 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9780997125214

Kadee Shore

Kadee Shore loves many things, the beach, scuba diving, yoga, cooking/eating, world travel, pop culture and a good bad pun. Her day jobs spanned the entertainment industry, education, stain expert for the state of South Carolina, environmental consulting, and financial planning. Kadee crushes Jeopardy. Nightly. Kadee’s independent, sarcastic style frequently bubbles up in her books. She lives on the Gulf Coast of Florida and as they say home is where the heart is.

Book preview

Better Together

By

Kadee Shore

If you love Janet Evanovich, Susan Elizabeth Phillips or a good laugh in general, you will love Better Together.

Cassie had game but her life and upwardly mobile career go from New York’s top classic rock radio Program Director to being blackballed from the industry and city she loves quicker than a seven second delay.

Cassandra Steel’s future is tangled with the lamest job offer ever, forged signatures, an absent crook and a hottie for a lawyer. With her trusty Newfie, knock off shoe collection, and sassy attitude she pulls her rented truck into a quirky beach community determined to stay out of jail the only way she knows; hard work, epic eye rolls and a do what is necessary series of post it notes to get back to New York City, ASAP. To save her career she’s gotta make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear as the natives would say. Job #1, establish a local TV station. What awaits, is a cast of characters who put a Crayola box of options back into local color and open Cassie’s life while a certain young attorney opens her heart.

As the Rolling Stones say, You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you find, you get what you need.

I laughed out loud in the first chapter, Penny Reid.

A full length, HEA novel.

Better Together by Kadee Shore

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and places are figments of my imagination or the results of late night snacking. All resemblance to anything except the town of Apalachicola is coincidental.

Copyright 2017 by Kadee Shore, All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, photographed or used digitally without permission from the author. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 978-0-9971252-1-4

First Edition, February, 2017

DEDICATED TO

Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Janet Evanovich

Penny Reid

Thanks for making me laugh.

CHAPTER 1

September

No, no, no, Cassandra said softly her finger and head syncing in time with an imaginary metronome. Cassandra Steele at 5’1", was a spitfire combination of intelligence, humor and energy. In other words, a total package. Her warm, chocolate brown eyes sparked with gold glints when she was pissed and she was getting there fast. Her head exploded with coppery brown curls that were vibrating in time with the metronome and her blood pressure.

She was seated at a table in the middle of the noon rush, waiters jostled loaded trays, and silverware clattered giving the general impression that bodily harm was a definite possibility. The man seated across from her was vaguely reptilian. The seedy vibe surrounding him gave her a very bad feeling. Cassie usually trusted her gut feelings, especially when it led her to cronuts, but this feeling was definitely not sugar coated. Not by a long shot.

She had agreed to take the lunch with a Mr. Richard Toole after he had hounded her for days. He was one of those guys who was connected and powerful, but on the underbelly of the industry, always talking a big game, just a little bit oily, just a little bit slimy. Cassie swore he considered himself the Trump of broadcasting, the big cheese, the top banana. When he put you in his crosshairs, you just wanted to do anything to get out of them. Hence the meeting.

Apparently Mr. Toole’s plan was to seduce her with a golden carrot. He offered some grandiose scheme about TV. Didn’t he realize it would take more than some half-baked move to a small town? Didn’t he realize TV was not her end play? She loved radio and damn it, being program director at the top music station in the number #1 market in the country, well you couldn’t put a price on that. Cassie listened while he droned on feeding her the line that she was the lynchpin, this was her key to the big time. Cassie looked him in the eyes with the straightest face she could muster and reasoned, Do you seriously believe a New York girl like me would actually consider going to Apalachicola, Florida? I googled around the town and I’m telling you my idea of a big night out is not the grocery store, and what’s with the name? Piggly Wiggly? Where is the Prada store? Even if I shopped downscale at Coach, I doubt I would survive. She never even imagined entering a Prada store. Even if she won the lottery, but when a girl was on a good rant, rant on sister.

But Miss Steele with all due respect, you are one of the top hit radio programmers in the biggest market in the country. I’m giving you carte blanche to start the next MTV, the next VH1, the next big thing, take your radio experience and marry it with pictures that wiggle. You’d be on the ground floor, positioned for greatness. Make that leap to TV with me.

Really? First, you are a bit behind the times. Cable is going the way of the land line, cut the cord, YouTube any of that sound familiar? Second, why would I want to leave New York? I love what I do, I’ve been recognized by Billboard as breaking in new musical artists, creating monster hits, and working with on air talent that become celebrities! Have you been to Apalachicola? Where would I feed my shoe fetish and add to my vast collection of Jimmy Choos? OK, so she had never even tried on a real pair of Jimmy Choo footwear. Her experience with said footwear did include ogling at the display window long enough to ponder whether actual walking could take place in those monuments to footwear engineering, but the dream was still hers!

It makes no sense at all, why in the name of all that is logical, would you locate in Apa-where-the-hell-is-it, Florida? Cassie’s distrust began to float over the table creating a tension filled cloud.

Honey, you don't understand the business world of today. Economic. Development. Money. Go in, promise the world, especially jobs in an economically distressed area. Cut your deal, take the money and the hell with the rest. Toole warmed to his subject like a predator circling his dinner.

I have no clue what the hell you’re talking about. Whatever it is, I’m not interested. Cassie tried not to visibly shudder as he leaned into the table.

I’ll expect your response in a registered letter, he said leaning back, grinning like a Cheshire cat knowing the bait had been set.

Why?

And there it was, manners and a good upbringing. The hook was set. He had her now.

Toole handed her an offer letter. Because when you get an offer letter, the professional thing to do is reply, after giving it your due consideration.

Balls! How is that for a reply? Cassie’s gut started flexing again, That doesn't sound kosher. And by the way, you lost me at Honey. Thanks for the lunch, but Honey, next time you try to impress a New York girl, may I suggest you choose Babbo as the venue. We rising stars do have our standards, and with that Cassandra Steele, stood, turned and sashayed out of the room. Oh how she loved the exit sashay.

He shouted after her, That letter or I will haunt you.

****

She strode into the office after a brisk 15 minute walk unsuccessfully trying to pound out her frustration on the pavement. I feel like I need a shower. Well, good riddance, that deal seems about as sleazy as Slick Dick, Cassie mumbled thinking no one would hear her.

Ruh roh, Bill, the station manager, greeted in his best Scooby Doo impression. You look like steam is ready to shoot out of your ears. My Cassie indicators are pointed toward a Category 3, like Hurricane Sandy. Should we evacuate the building? Call the National Guard?

Maybe later. You know that Richard Toole don’t you? The scumbag that pops up like a whack-a- mole.

Yeah, he’s a bad apple. Why do you ask? Bill confirmed Cassie’s theory. A guy with a string of a.k.a.’s that describe him so well ought to be avoided at all costs. Just the one’s I can recollect are something like, The Tool and The Dick, and they weren’t just referring to the nickname for Richard.

Well, I didn’t, I took lunch with the jackass because he was pestering me to nearly stalking. I did it to get him off my back, but now I’m not so sure. I’m trying to decide if he’s an idiot or a crook. At the moment, I’m thinking id-ook with the id part of his pleasure coming from greed.

Come on in, let's chat. You look like you need to blow off some of that steam.

No Bill, I never want you to see the pissed side of my personality. But I think I can spend the afternoon being mentally amused by a game of a.k.a.’s.

You mean my little programming ray of sunshine is less than cheerful. Ever?

Cassie rolled her eyes and tossed over her shoulder Oh, you don’t even want to go there. Not unless you have a bucket of Pinot Noir and my good buddies Ben and Jerry stashed in a freezer I don’t know about.

****

Cassie arrived home, late, tired and a bit cranky. Slick both pissed off and disgruntled her. She didn’t like that. She was a happy person, damn-it she really was, she repeated to herself over and over. Maybe that should be my mantra, she muttered. "I am a happy person. I am a happy person," she repeated trying to project a bit more confidence. It didn’t help the pissed-ness.

Cassie unlocked her door and was embraced by 140 pounds of hot, muscular, black male. She was greeted with a hot wet kiss that made her grin from ear to ear. He wagged his butt prodigiously. Fred was her life. Half scary dog, half pound puppy and 100% love.

OK, OK, yes we can go out. But you have to let me kick off the all-show, no go shoes. Why is it that hot, red FMP’s please my mind, but they are such a letdown to my feet? Oh, so you don't care? You’re such a dog.

Glancing through the mail, Cassie found a ‘reminder’ of those impressive student loans amassed from NYU and decided a day job is a good thing. While all her friends were defaulting and trying to show her the benefits of doing the same, she was adamant. When she took out her first loan she had to promise her German mother she would pay it off. It was her mother’s condition for letting her leave Steubenville, Ohio and come to New York City to take the media world by storm. She re-affirmed her promise on her mother's death bed that come hell or high water those loans would be paid. The threat from the government was marginal compared to a mother promise. Mother promises are forever.

Minutes later in yoga pants and sneaks, she leashed up Fred and was out the door. Pushing aside the loan notice and the unsettling weirdness of the meeting earlier Cassie tried to focus on walking Fred. Fred needed her focus. Fred needed therapy. Maybe therapy was a strong word. Maybe obedience class, obedience boot camp? Do dogs have boot camps? Who was she kidding, she loved that mutt. From the moment she walked into the Teterboro Animal Rescue she knew they were meant to be together. Who else would rescue a gigantic lap dog, full of love, with waterfall slobber skills? Fred was doing his after work routine. Sniff and mark the tree in front of the brownstone with the blue door, sniff and mark the tree in front of the brownstone with the yellow door, sniff and mark the tree in front of the brownstone with the green door, sniff and mark the tree in front of the brownstone with the violet door and so on working his way through the rainbow. Just how big was that dog's tank?

Cassie was lost in her own head, the audacity of that man to think she wanted to move to Apalachicola, Florida. She wanted to move up not backwards. She was proud of her job, her work and the fact she got to do it in the #1 market in the country. You don’t get bigger than New York, it all happens here first.

She was paying enough attention to see a stranger approaching. His eyes were darting everywhere, something shiny in his hand. He stopped dead in front of her. Fred quietly gave up his tree artistry and came and sat by Cassie's side. OK lady, give me your purse, the stranger demanded.

Cassie stared, as if this day had not made her cranky enough; she had to be approached by some moron at the front of the line for the Darwin Awards. Are you kidding me? Where will I find this purse? Hey, Einstein, if you were more observant you might notice I’m wearing a tank top and yoga pants and being pulled by a large dog, she enunciated slowly and carefully as she placed her hand on top of Fred's head. Very quietly she said, Showtime.

Whadda you mean, showtime? I be runnin’ the show here, he hollered while grabbing the band of his sagging shorts in time to cover his butt.

As she explained, Maybe not. Fred gave what he thought of as his pound puppy sad-face grin. The rest of the world thought of it as a bad ass snarl.

Fred, show this man how much you like him. At that Fred leaped up, placed his front paws on his shoulders, knocked a shiny knife out of his hand, and started humping the crap out of the guy. Go ahead Fred give him all your love, where upon Fred took the guy down and started humping missionary style. It was incredibly difficult for Cassie to suppress the urge to start humming Barry White.

Get that mother fuckin’ dog off me.

Hey, language! I do not like that word and neither does Fred. You come from Jersey or something?

Cassie couldn't help it, she had to let Fred have a bit more fun. Cardio was cardio. After what probably felt like indeterminable time to the mugger, Cassie said, Are you outta here? Are Fred and I ever going to see you again?

Lady, I may leave the country after this. Just get him off.

Cassie puffed up all 107 pounds and looked him in the eye. You’re not making, what I am sure is your God-fearing and very nice mamma, proud. Get out, stay out, and don't come back because apparently Fred really likes you. Which way are you headed? Fred and I are right behind with my cell phone ready to blast out a 911 call. O.K. Fred, cease and desist.

With that, the sure to be future Darwin Award winner got up and started moving fast. Fred and Cassie were right behind. He looked over his shoulder and started to run as did Fred and Cassie. After about 5 blocks, Cassie yelled, Stay away, this is our neighborhood and we don't need you.

Cassie stood and watched the quickly retreating figure while patting Fred's head, Oh Fred you’re such a friendly dog. It’s so generous of you to spread your love. Cassie reflected on her mantra, she really was a happy person, who else would train their guard dog to hump on command.

Adopting a Newfie puppy with a history of training for water rescue was mere luck. The fact that he was kicked out because he was a good soul was a blessing. Well there was that pesky problem that he couldn’t swim coupled with his deathly fear of water. It sure didn’t make him a reliable candidate for the Coast Guard.

When Cassie returned, she saw Mr. Toole’s offer letter. Damn! I’m going to give Slick his not so polite, no chance in hell, letter, Fred. She had no idea why she was replying. She really didn’t want any part of his scheme. She didn’t get what he was doing, but somehow it was wrong. All she knew was that she wanted him off her back. Then, she heard that almost imperceptible voice in her head, Really, mom, that’s your best beyond the grave advice. ‘Be professional?’ Cassie didn’t know which was more annoying; registered letters from sleaze balls or an overactive dead mother trying to advise her from beyond.

****

The next morning, right on schedule, she hopped the subway for her morning commute. Her mass transit mojo was working this morning as she scored an open seat. Normally her phone was tuned to the station, but today she really wanted to finish listening to the mystery that kept her up half the night. Completely absorbed, she was lost in her own world. Crap, she arrived at her office 15 minutes early without realizing it. She shoved the phone inside her gigantic tote bag, yanking out her ear buds. Balancing her cup of coffee, Cassie vaulted off the subway and headed to the station. Multi-tasking, it was a gift.

Inside chaos reigned. Bill was pacing frantically, pulling his hair into unattractive tufts. Angry looking faces Cassie didn’t recognize were gathered in the reception area. Why was benign, non-descript music playing over the air when it should have been the hysterical manic antics of her morning jocks? The digital media manager, over in a corner, wore a vacant stare with her computer dinging updates like there was no tomorrow. The phones were ringing off the hooks. People she didn’t think knew how to operate a landline were speaking with a sincere apologetic tone.

As Cassie entered everyone stopped and stared at her, waiting for her to say what they must have expected to be a very significant pronouncement. Feeling like she had landed well into the middle of a bad novella, she once again trusted her gut and the sense of slow, impending doom. A definite ruh roh was in order.

Ah, Bill once you manage to stop your self-scalping, could you tell me what’s going on and why everyone looks as if Armageddon has arrived.

Cassie, it’s not good. Cassie, it’s horrible. Cassie, we’re in trouble. Cassie, the FCC will be on us like flies on rotted meat. Cassie, the shit has hit the fan.

Trying not to freak out because straight-laced, suit wearing Bill did not curse; Cassie took a deep yoga breath and asked again, Bill, is there a reason that the apocalypse is at our door?

He stopped pacing, did a slow turn and leveled her with a stare that would have dropped a lesser woman Why yes, Cassie, yes there is and I’m glad you asked. YOUR morning show guys…

Bill was a numbers guy, he made the bottom line work. Creativity, and spontaneous humor were not a part of his everyday world. He never did like Stan and Stan. When she brought in the hottest team from New Orleans, Bill had never bonded with the guys. He sweat every morning knowing they would go over the line and stewed about it weekly. He had improved; he had progressed from hourly stewing, to daily stewing and eventually to weekly stewing. You had to give him credit. He was trying.

Yes, what about Stan and Stan? Cassie’s tone was calm and professional which was really quite remarkable given the level of turbulence in her gut. Note to self, refuse second cups of coffee during future Armageddon’s.

"Let me say this in short, declarative sentences. George Carlin. 7 dirty words. Open mike."

And, judging from the nonstop ringing phones, angry faces in reception and dinging social media alerts I assume we had a few listeners this morning? Pausing for a brief second she wanted to do the happy dance, was it so wrong to be secretly pleased that clearly, lots of people were now listening to the guys? Coming back to earth and face to face with Bill’s managerial, corporate death stare she would guess yeah, my-self congratulatory moment would be wrong.

Bill crossed his arms, stern was a new look for him, Yeah, yeah and I now know a potty mouth inspires trench mouth. Why is it when people are complaining about dirty words they have to use dirtier ones? I’m afraid to know if we made a trending topic on Twitter. Look Cassie, this is on your program director shoulders. We’ll need to spin this and get our PR together. Let’s go to my office now, turning he began his Green Mile procession toward his door.

Bill, let me go to the control room, review the incident and meet you in 20 minutes. Maybe that will give you some time to settle the troops and right the ship and honestly do something with that hair.

Cassie tried for the confident, steady exit, but it was difficult with a leaping heart and knees knocking, her Gucci knock off pumps, quaking.

First she went online and referenced the FCC obscenity rule so it would be fresh in her mind and then took off to tag Walt, the sound engineer.

Cassie entered master control. Walt, cue-up the offending segment. Walt looked up from the audio board. He had a sheepish grin on his face.

Cassie took another of her patented deep yoga breaths trying to squash down that slow, impending doom thing before facing him Walt, why didn’t you hit the kill switch?

I went to take a leak. They had thrown it to a commercial pod, I figured I had at least two and a half minutes. More deep yoga breaths which were not centering Cassie and given how rapidly and loudly she was breathing had more of a Darth Vader quality.

Walt, we are not kidding around here. This is very, very bad. Have I mentioned that this is bad? Walt was moving at his typical speed of sloth, Have you got it cued up yet? Her sense of doom now reaching Defcon 4 status, Cassandra Steele took one more deep Darth Vader breath and put on the headphones.

With grim determination Cassie listened to the exact 45 seconds that would end her career. She turned pale and sputtered, "I did not expect it to be nearly as horrible and overdramatic as Bill led me to believe. Why in the name of all that is broadcasting would they think it necessary to pontificate and expand on the 7 Dirty Words with special emphasis on synonyms for number 3? Oh hell, Walt, there were descriptions! Descriptions with adjectives I DON’T EVEN KNOW."

Well, you got me there. Will I get canned for being in the can? he smirked at his own joke.

I’m due in Bill’s office and I have no idea how to answer your question. I’m sure you’ll hear from someone later. And Walt, until your shift is over don’t leave the kill switch.

With a sense of responsibility and resolve instilled in her by her Mom from birth, Cassie squared her shoulders, crossed the office hall and firmly knocked on Bill’s door. Come in. It better be you Cassie. You could cut the tension in Bill’s office with a knife. His harried face had a grim look around the edges and his tie was already loosened. Not a good sign so early in the morning. He gestured to a chair and Cassie sat on the edge ready to deal with the crisis.

Where do you want to start? Bill began.

How about with the FCC? Cassie responded.

Sure, they’re loose on this right?

Her normal sarcasm was instantly brushed aside as she explained, It depends on how you define loose. We definitely violated the ‘decency requirements’ for morning drive and have absolutely pandered to the prurient interests of the audience. The words that went over the air were vile, inappropriate and I wouldn’t argue on grounds of the first amendment or any of the other 26 amendments.

She paused to focus, What do you want me to do and how soon do you want me to do it? Cassie asked softly with a sincerity that made Bill pause. He shifted into managerial mode.

Heads will have to roll. Get Stan and Stan off the air immediately. Plug in anything to avoid dead air or just go with the elevator music we have on now. I don’t give a damn. Call in whoever is on the schedule to take over from Walt at shift change and get him in here immediately… or put a trained monkey in. I don’t care. Then, I want you to fire Walt. We need to get out in front of the story for damage control. Get Haley on the PR. I want a release that admits mistakes and a list of names of those who have been fired from this station. I want this release to be read by the 10 am news on our station and dispersed to all other outlets immediately thereafter. Upload statements to Facebook and Twitter, immediately. Then you’ll call the station lawyer to void the contract of Stan and Stan for a breach of decency standards. Cassie, I like you, but this is just business. I want your resignation on my desk by 11. I’ll not fire you nor do you have to be on Haley’s fired list for the press release. Yours will be listed as a resignation.

Cassie was nearly catatonic; she did her task list with every professional bone in her body. Programming was ultimately her responsibility and that meant all this was on her. By the time her duty was completed, it hit her, she was out of a job. Public relations, keeping the listeners happy, what a bitch, yet she knew in Bill’s position she would do the same thing. By getting ahead of the tide of complaint, the buck stopped at Q-Rock, no issues with the FCC; the spin would work in the station’s favor.

She pondered that her career had gone too smoothly. She had never had a shoe drop let alone had to wait for the other one. That seemed to change at 11am on a Wednesday morning. Who knew? Washed up at 27. It would be up to her to figure this out, put on her big girl pants and pull herself up by her pumps. After all, when the shoe finally did drop, for Cassie at least it was a faux designer one. She would recover.

CHAPTER 2

Sunday, the day after Christmas

It seems that Dick Toole was not done with her when she told him ‘no.’ With ‘The Toole,’ apparently no did not mean no. Cassie had looked diligently for three months for a job using every social media outlet, networking technique, and schmoozing scheme she could think of. The first job offer she had received was Toole’s call two days before Christmas. She was broke and depressed. The Dick called to offer her the stupid job, in Apalachicola, again. Only this time, she was forced to accept the offer at half the original salary. Cassie had her ah-ha moment during the course of the conversation when he intimated he had started the rumors that led to her to being blackballed. You can only be blackballed if people believe it. How could they believe the Toole? He had a helluva lot more clout in the industry than I ever guessed. How could anyone believe his trash talk, about her? Cassandra Steele, consummate professional always on the right side, everybody’s friend, having to start over.

She had taken four days to box up and label her life. And so she found herself, shell shocked, driving a U-Haul, out of Manhattan, to Apalachicola with an unscheduled stop in New Jersey, thanks to Fred.

Thirty minutes earlier while packing the truck, she discovered Fred in a fit of acting out. Not only was Fred shredding her couch, but as a delightful bonus he treated the tassels on her throw pillows as appetizers. One of the guys loading the truck had a veterinarian cousin, Dr. Dan Something-or-other, in Jersey that he telephoned for advice. The crux of the matter: she had to make a stop in Jersey at the vet’s office. In the meantime she had been instructed to dose poor Fred with both a laxative and some sort of concoction that Cassie was told might ‘upset’ Fred’s stomach a bit… good lord in heaven the potion was turning Fred inside out. He was doing his best to relieve himself of some of the 11 tassels that were MIA when they left Manhattan.

Damn it was hard to see. Cassie had no idea so much odor could come from one creature. Given the stench that filled the truck’s cab, even Fred was tearing up from deadly gas smells. The sheer volume of bodily fluids that had erupted from both ends was mind boggling. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Seeing her beloved Fred in such anguish Cassie did what any self-respecting New York/Steubenville, Ohio girl would do. She downshifted and comforted Fred.

Traffic was light, so at least she had that going for her. Only