Stay Tuned Page 14

  The room buzzed with suspicion and opinion. People murmured. “What is she doing here?”

  “Is she coming back?”

  “Did Drew call her in?”

  Snippets of heated conversation drifted out into the newsroom.

  “But the ratings…great.”

  “Not anymore. It doesn’t matter…behavior…unacceptable.”

  Crash! A coffee cup shattered. Crunch! I swear the walls shook.

  Rick picked up his phone with a grim look and dialed. He growled a few words into the receiver and hung up. I resisted the urge to cover my ears with my hands. I didn’t want to listen, but couldn’t help myself.

  “But, you need me…”

  Alyssa’s tone sharpened. Drew responded with a shout. Alyssa became louder, straining her voice first one octave higher, than two. Finally, Alyssa wrapped up her performance with a bone-chilling scream that would make Stephen King proud.

  I closed my eyes tight. With the proper music and dramatic lighting, the exchange would have taken on Greek tragedy-like proportions. That was enough. I had to get out of the building. At least for a few minutes.

  As I jumped from my chair, two security guards appeared in the hallway. Rick gave a cool nod in their direction. Straight-faced, they ambled closer, muscles tensed. On cue, Drew’s door flew wide open.

  Alyssa burst out, red-faced and teary, straight into their arms.

  Chapter 33

  “Whoa!” Drew yelled down the hallway. He waved a skinny arm and sprinted toward me. “Hold up!”

  Dear God, don’t tell me there’s another crisis. This afternoon’s visit from Alyssa was enough to unsettle everyone. Someone else is going to have to find Sunshine and wrestle the Coke from Judd’s hand.

  I swiveled as best I could on my heels, juggling the Ask Anything notes, a water bottle, my pen, and an earpiece. After the interview, I had to give one last look at the scripts, make any corrections, and get ready for the six o’clock show. When that wrapped up, I’d have to slide into Candace’s dress and speed over to the fundraiser.

  “Hey, before you rush into the studio, I wanted to talk to you.” Out of breath, Drew leaned against the wall and folded his arms so tightly I thought the thin sleeves would rip out of his shirt.

  Drew cleared his throat. “First of all, Alyssa came to beg for her job back. I wanted to let you know I didn’t give it to her. In fact, I’m working on that restraining order we talked about. She can’t just barge into the station anytime she likes.”

  Relief washed over me. Thank goodness.

  “Second, I’ve had a few more viewer calls today. Very positive. People like you and Rick together.”

  I flushed with pleasure.

  “Keep up the good work.” Drew tapped his watch. “Better run, Cinderella. Your interview’s waiting.”

  The lights sparkled as I rushed into the studio. Before I caught my breath and organized my thoughts, I clipped on my mic and popped in my earpiece.

  I waved hello to the camera crew and walked over to the set. My guest was Cher’s sister, Shauna, who had started the Macon, Georgia, chapter of the National Adoption Center. I’d also invited Cher and her daughter, Ella Marie.

  “So nice to meet you. Your sister’s a gem. Hey Ella, how are you?” I shook Shauna’s hand, then Ella’s, too.

  “I didn’t want to steal the spotlight from Shauna, but when I told my sister about you, Jaden, and everything, she insisted we come along.” Cher explained.

  “That’s great! I’m glad you did.”

  I sat down with Shauna and Cher, explained how the segment worked, when we planned to air it, and asked if they had any questions.

  “Our focus is really getting the word out to the local community about adopting children right here in the United States,” Shauna told me. “I think it’s easy to forget that there are so many children—even here in this community—who need loving homes.”

  “Like Ella Marie and Cher,” I added and smiled at both of them.

  “Exactly.” Shauna nodded. “Our motto is: There are no unwanted children, just unfound families.”

  My throat caught and my eyes misted over. “Oh, I love that.”

  “It’s what we’re all about.”

  Chapter 34

  The six o’clock show was about to begin. Joe gave us a cue. “Two minutes, everyone.”

  As I settled into my chair, I tilted my head toward Rick. “Thanks for letting me do the adoption piece. I really hope it helps get the word out.”

  “I knew you’d be perfect for it. And Shauna’s a great spokesperson.”

  I clipped on my mic. “Hey, and back to what you were saying earlier?” I couldn’t stand to leave a story unfinished. “Before Alyssa…”

  Rick turned and faced me, his expression serious. “I was just making the point that sometimes in this crazy business, you come up on something that’s too awful to report on, but you have to do it anyway. It’s your job.”

  I nodded, digesting what he meant.

  Rick gathered his scripts and tapped the edges together on the desk. “That accident I was telling you about? A good friend of mine died. I was assigned to the story. When I found out it was him, I was so distraught I could hardly keep it together.”

  The first notes of WSGA’s opening music began to play.

  A deep shudder scuttled down my spine. Could I handle something like that? Am I capable?

  Joe’s voice came through our earpieces. “Here we go.”

  Rick picked up his pen and shot me a serious look. “I was just glad it wasn’t the same for your friend’s daughter.”

  “Me, too.” I bit my lip and smoothed my jacket. Clear your head, Melissa.

  Joe cued Rick.

  Video of farmers in a peanut field appeared on the monitor. “Georgia farmers pray for rain,” Rick said.

  I took a deep breath and watched for the flash of the WSGA logo. New video appeared on the screen. Cars buzzed by on a backdrop of local highway.

  “Plus, a new law may affect teenage drivers.” I added. “Find out why.”

  Rick nodded and waited for his turn. Once more, the WSGA logo came up, followed by video of college students on campus. “And…can parents afford to send their kids to college? Is the American Dream slipping away for some families?”

  While the video rolled, it was as if a veil was lifted from my eyes. Every parent became Candace. Every child became Kelly, Jaden, or Addie. Or Ella Marie. All at once, everything connected. News wasn’t all about ratings, or a catchy headline, or scooping the story.

  It was about a friend’s college student, the safety of a neighbor’s child, the viability of a local farm. For Rick, it was about honoring a friend who died too soon. For Cher, adopting a child who needed a family. Reaching for a higher purpose. Being a better person, every day. Finding solutions.

  My turn again. “Stay tuned. These stories and more are straight ahead on WSGA News at Six.”

  Ten minutes after the newscast wrapped up, I shimmied into Candace’s dress for tonight’s gala and checked my makeup in the mirror. I glowed from the inside out. The show had been perfect. Technically. Visually.

  Praise had been showered like confetti. Even Drew threw in a handful.

  But tonight was more than that. More than a flawless read, exceptional sound bites, or a witty exchange during the weather toss.

  Emotionally and intellectually, I had grown. Just in the span of one afternoon. My calling, my “something” that gave me joy and satisfaction, was helping out real people with real issues. Giving of myself without expecting something in return.

  My reflection glimmered in the glass window as I walked out to the parking lot.

  The gown I was wearing was gorgeous; the kind a celebrity would show off on the red carpet. Low cut, beaded, and the color of honey. My new necklace and pendant from Candace set off the scooped bodice. The fabric skimmed my hips and floated to the floor.

  Rick was already on his way, with instructions to find him when I
arrived. According to the memo Drew had sent, Rick and I would give out several awards during the program.

  I slid into the car, cranked the engine, and sped off. At least I had a chance to listen to my voicemail on the way.

  Beep. “Hi. It’s Chris. I’ll be a little late, but I’ll see you at the Gala tonight. Look for me.”

  My heart twisted a little when I heard the sound of his voice. I loved him. We needed to talk and work things out.

  Beep. Nothing.

  Beep. Another Hang-up.

  Beep. “Candace here. How’s the dress? Do you love the necklace? I hope so. Have fun tonight! Believe in yourself ,” she reminded me.

  Beep. A garbled female voice. “Not … now … you … sorry.”

  What? I glanced at the number. Blocked.

  A fleeting thought about Alyssa floated through my brain. Surely, that wasn’t her that called. Drew was getting a restraining order. I hoped someone else was getting her a therapist.

  The singsong voice mail recording cut in: “ You have no more messages .”

  I hung up and maneuvered behind a steady stream of cars, SUVs, limos.

  Chris referred to these events as, “Big Money Nights,” and now I saw why. Women dripped with jewels, men sported tuxedos. Who’s who in Macon flooded toward the doors of the Centreplex Auditorium, eager to open up their pocketbooks for charity.

  The flutter in my heart sped up. I pulled into an end parking space that seemed miles away from the entrance and surveyed the flow of couples. No way was I going to find Chris until I went inside. My hands gripped the steering wheel.

  My cell phone blinked at me from the passenger’s seat. I could call. He could meet me outside. I checked my makeup in the rearview mirror and watched as a silver Mercedes pulled into the spot next to mine.

  I snatched up my cell phone and pretended to be deep in conversation. Outside the Mercedes, the man and woman’s voice intermingled. Doors slammed shut, heels clicked on the pavement, their conversation drifted away.

  No sense being nervous , I told myself. There’s nothing to be worried about. I talked to thousands of people on the news tonight, didn’t I? Of course.

  It was just overwhelming to see them all in person, that was it. Believe in yourself, like Candace said. Step up to challenge.

  Right. Let’s go. I grabbed the keys, tossed them in my purse, and swung open the door.

  Thud.

  “Damn!”

  My eyes flew open and I stared at a doubled-over Rick Roberts. He grimaced and waved with one hand, the other held his knee.

  “Well, guess I won’t be out on the dance floor,” he quipped and straightened up. His pained expression disappeared as I stepped out of the car.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t see you—”

  “It’s okay. Good thing I don’t need this leg to anchor.” Rick winked and pretended to limp around with a cane like an old man, one hand on his back.

  I groaned and covered my face with my palm in mock despair, though I knew Rick wasn’t angry. In fact, he was grinning and hadn’t stopped looking at me. Where is his wife?

  The crowd shifted and swelled. “Wow. I think every person in Macon is here.”

  “You look lovely.” His voice dropped an octave. “Absolutely stunning.”

  A chill ran up the back of my legs as I twirled in place to show off the dress. The beads on my dress caught the light and sparkled furiously.

  “Thanks. I was fortunate enough to get to wear it tonight. My friend loaned it to me.”

  “I was worried you weren’t coming,” Rick explained. “But then I saw you in the car.”

  A flush of color crept up my face into my hairline. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  Rick tilted his head to one side and squinted at me. “It’s been a rough few days, I’ll admit. Nothing we can’t get through, though.” Rick swept a hand toward the Centreplex. “Can you put it all behind you for a few hours and make an appearance for WSGA?”

  He offered me his arm and flashed a dazzling smile. “I think they’re expecting us.”

  Chapter 35

  Rick attracted attention. All kinds of attention, from grandmothers to debutantes, businessmen to boyhood friends. He air-kissed and hugged a few hundred people, stopping each time to introduce me. After five minutes, my head whirled with snippets of conversation:

  “Lovely to meet you…”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance…”

  “So good to see a fresh face on WSGA…”

  “You and Rick make a good team.”

  “I hope to see more of you both…”

  I shook a million hands and smiled until my jaw ached. My nose tickled from the mixture of men’s cologne, heavy perfume, and the scent of fresh cut flowers adorning every table.

  Graceful lilies and delicate freesia dripped from thin glass vases. The tips of tapered candles glowed. Soft jazz music mingled with the gentle gurgling of the silver fountain placed in the center of the room.

  A waiter breezed by, handing out champagne. On the giant tray he balanced, I watched the bubbles in each glass float to the top and disappear. Gone in an instant.

  “Excuse me, Rick,” I whispered and nudged his sleeve. “I’ll be right back.”

  Light-headed, I wove my way around ladies’ elbows, suit jackets, and between small tables piled high with plump shrimp and golden crab cakes. I paused to take a plate, but suddenly, I wasn’t hungry. In fact, the very thought of eating made my insides churn like a ship on rough ocean waters.

  Is it nerves? Am I sick?

  When I turned away from the table to glance back at Rick, the crowd had closed in. I lost sight of where I’d been standing.

  Disoriented, I moved to the edge of the room, where the noise level lessened considerably. The center was a veritable beehive of activity. It was never still—people buzzed in tight circles, going from one group to another.

  I watched and waited. When are they going to get started? And how am I going to find Rick again?

  We had been assigned seats, I remembered Rick saying. The WSGA corporate table was somewhere near the podium on the stage, if I remembered right.

  A flash of a familiar figure near the doorway caught my eye. Chris? I stood on my toes and tried to get a better look. A moment later, he turned around.

  Ah, yes! There he was, smashing, as usual, in a tuxedo. He smiled broadly and shook hands with a portly man, then nodded to the person on his right. I followed his gaze and stopped.

  I blinked to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

  A striking brunette with shiny, long hair and a tan flashed a smile at Chris and touched his arm. She spoke, giggled, and poked at Chris. Her flame-red dress clung to her body in all the right places.

  Immediate jealousy tore through me. How dare she? Who does she think she is?

  A couple, arm in arm, strolled near me. The woman wrinkled her forehead at what must have been the awful look on my face. I wiped off the frown and flashed an apologetic smile.

  “Shoes are killing me.” I sighed as they walked past.

  The woman returned a warm look of understanding and murmured something to the man.

  Okay, calm down. No sense being upset if I didn’t know for sure what was going on. She was probably a co-worker, my conscience argued. Of course. Didn’t all financial planners look like that?

  I peeked again, just in time to see the woman whisper in Chris’s ear. She might as well have jumped in his lap she was so close.

  Enough was enough.

  Chris was late, with a gorgeous woman clinging to him, hanging on every word. Like it or not, he had some explaining to do.

  Chapter 36

  Tap. Tap. The raspy echo of fingers hitting a microphone reverberated across the room.

  “Would everyone please take their seats?” An anorexic woman dressed in bright pink from head to toe stood center stage, both nervous hands wrapped tight around the microphone.

  She scanned the crowd, which ignored
her at first. “Please take your seats,” she repeated, this time louder. “We’ll get started in just a few minutes.”

  I’d take my seat if I knew where it was. Forced to take baby steps in Candace’s slinky dress, I made a little progress to where I thought Chris was standing with the mystery woman.

  “Excuse me.” A short, bald man elbowed me in the ribs and splattered his gin and tonic on my arm.

  Wiping away the liquid, I fought my way through most of Macon’s upper crust population. If anyone ever wanted to do a Central Georgia version of, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous , tonight would have been the night to film.

  I brushed past several congressmen, one state senator, the mayor, and several up-and-coming businessmen from Atlanta. Chris knew many of them on a first-name basis and managed most of their financial affairs. I kept expecting to see him deep in conversation with at least one of them.

  But no Chris.

  At the skinny woman’s third urging, people began to take their seats. Over the tops of heads, from across the room, Rick caught my eye and motioned me to the WSGA table.

  Screech! Crackle. Screech! The speakers on either side of the stage boomed stereo sound of someone wrestling with the microphone stand.

  I resisted the urge to cover my ears. Rick stared at the stage, frowned, and raised an eyebrow. His face clouded over and his jaw tightened.

  Before I could get his attention, a thunderous crash silenced the room. Next to the uprooted wooden podium, the anorexic woman from the Boys and Girls Club began to argue with a girl wearing a low-cut purple dress and an enormous hat. Where had she come from?

  The sound system picked up every word they were saying.

  “You have to leave now. I am asking you politely.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “Look, we’re trying to have a program here. You need to leave—”

  A man in a tuxedo covered up the microphone on the podium. The woman in the hat finally left the stage in a huff.