AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Dear Juliet
Danielle Norman
I use to take calls and give love advice. Now, I'm taking calls and whispering dirty fantasies. Only problem is, it's the same caller, every night, all night.
1
Juliet
"I'm not sure if you've ever seen it, but there is a meme that reads, 'You know you're in trouble if your wife ever says, do whatever you want.' Here's a clue, men--don't. Do not do whatever you want. It is literally a warning. I know they say women speak a different language, but we don't. We speak one language, and it is called sarcasm, so I suggest--" I was caught off guard by a tap at my window and lose my train of thought for a second before continuing, "I suggest you learn it." I glanced at the station manager, who was waving frantically and held up one finger, letting him know that I would be there in a minute. It wasn't the one I wanted to hold up, but I refrained because I loved my job.
I signaled to my show producer to hold all calls and then returned my focus to the one I was currently talking to. "I hope that answered your question. Thanks for calling in, Derrick." I glanced at my screen and choose a love song. "This is for all of you who are looking but have no clue what you are looking for." I pressed play and let Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper trill "Shallow."
I bit the inside of my cheek to mask my reaction at being interrupted. I removed my headphones and walked out of the sound studio. My station manager was an asshole and thought everyone should be at his beck and call. Even though my show had outstanding ratings, he held little respect for it. "Hello, Mr. Lennox, what can I do for you?"
"Ah, Juliet, I'd like you to meet someone."
I rolled my eyes before I glanced toward the man down the hall who was peering through the glass of another sound room. Even from where I was standing, I could tell he was tall--like really tall. Okay, everyone was tall to me, and I wore four-inch heels just to make myself feel normal size. All right, I was five foot even without heels. No, not four-eleven, I didn't care what the chart at the doctor's office said. Their scale was wrong too.
"Greyson," Mr. Lennox called.
The man turned and the most entrancing cerulean blue eyes locked on to mine. It took every ounce of energy I had to force myself to look away. He was wearing dark jeans, like the perfect, made-for-his-body denim, a button-down white dress shirt that was tucked in, and loafers. He was perfection. It was stylish but still masculine. As he neared us, I couldn't help it, I inhaled and wanted to step closer. He was a combination of bergamot, pine, and clean laundry. Would I get arrested if I sniffed him? Okay, it had been a while since I had been with a man. No, we weren't getting into how long or I wa
s sure someone would want to check to see if my cherry had grown back, which was kind of sad since I ran a relationship show.
He held out his hand. "Hello, I'm Greyson Right."
Mr. Right? Oh my god, how perfect. "Of course you are."
"Excuse me?" he asked.
I just smiled and extended my hand. "I'm Juliet Loveheart."
"Real name or just for the show?"
"Isn't she adorable?" Mr. Lennox interrupted. "Juliet runs a little show we have where women can call in and you know complain about their men." Mr. Lennox chuckled.
Oh, he pissed me off. "First of all, I get a lot of male callers, in fact my last caller was a guy. And yes Juliet Loveheart is my legal name, the one written on my birth certificate."
"Juliet as in the Capulets? Your mother a Shakespeare fan?" Mr. Right asked.
"Nope, not Shakespeare, just a love for literature, I have a brother named Darcy." Mr. Right laughed, most people did, but Mr. Lennox didn't. I didn't think Mr. Lennox understood the reference to Romeo or Darcy because he was that much of a doofus.
Mr. Right followed my gaze to Mr. Lennox. "Darcy is from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice," he said.
"Oh, I've never seen it," Mr. Lennox added.
"Read it," Mr. Right and I said in unison.
"Anyway, I actually have my doctorate in psychology. My little show is a relationship counseling show."
"Why isn't the station capitalizing on that? Are you PhD or PsyD?" Mr. Right asked. I was thoroughly impressed most people had no clue of the difference.
"She is a radio host for bored housewives." Mr. Lennox shook his head.
"I'll be right back, I had two songs queued up." I moved back toward my door.
"May I come watch?" Mr. Right asked.
