Authors: Jennifer Cruise
Charlie All Night (3 page)
"I'm probably going to regret this." Charlie looked at Joe. "What do
you think?"
Joe shook his head. "I'm staying out of this. Although we do have a
couch, and I do put pecans in
the waffles." He looked at Allie. "On the
other hand, I do think she's up to something."
"They better be great waffles," Charlie said.
"They'll be unforgettable," Allie promised.
life wasn't usually this complex.
His conscience said, stay away, lie
low, don't get involved with these nice people. But he never
listened
to his conscience, anyway.
He was going to do it, he realized as they got up to go. He was going
to move in with Allie and Joe
and pump them for background on the
station, all the news and rumor that only friends would repeat
to
friends. It would be low and slimy of him, but it was a great
opportunity, and he'd been around
long enough to know that great
opportunities in life were few and far between.
Just keep your hands off Allie
,
he told himself sternly. It was one
thing to use her for information;
it was another thing entirely to use
her for.... He glanced down at her, and she smiled, and he remembered
how warm she'd been in his arms. Just
thinking about her was a bad idea.
Waffles and gossip, yes. Allie, absolutely no.
He excused himself and went to find a phone to cancel his motel
reservation. Remember, he told
himself. Be virtuous.
It would be a nice change for him.
Allie shoved her chair in, squaring her shoulders. "I'm going to seduce
him." It sounded pretty
stupid when she said it out loud.
"What?"
"I have a plan. He'll be like penicillin." Joe looked at her as if she
were nuts, so she elaborated,
warming to her topic as she explained.
"Mark's just a bad habit, like a virus. All I need is an antidote.
I'll
sleep with Charlie, and then I'll be over Mark."
Joe put his head in his hands. "Even for you, this is a dumb idea."
"Why?" Allie blinked down at him. "It's worked great so far. I don't
mind about Mark much at all
when I'm around Charlie."
"And what are you going to do to get over Charlie?"
"I won't need to get over Charlie. From now on, I'm concentrating on my
career. Charlie is just
a fling."
Joe looked at her as if she were demented. "Except you're not the kind
of woman who has flings.
And you're already concentrating too much on
your career. That's how you ended up with Mark,
because he was
convenient
. And I don't think
Charlie is the kind of guy you forget."
"Well, I'm thirty-six," Allie said, exasperated. "If I don't start
having flings now, I never will. And
I'm tired of getting all wrapped
up in a gay and then trying to cope when he's gone. I want a nice,
simple, short, purely sexual one-night stand, and
then I can forget about Mark. And Charlie's out
of here in six weeks,
he said so. This is perfect.'"
Joe spoke very slowly to her. "This. Is. A. Dumb. Idea."
"Listen." Allie fought back the anger that suddenly threatened her
voice. "I know how dumb I am.
I know Mark is worthless. I knew it when
I was with him, but I kept making excuses. And now I'm
stuck in this
stupid thing where I want to be with him, and I don't even know why.
Haven't you ever wanted somebody you knew wasn't worth it?"
"Yes," Joe said. "I imagine almost everybody has."
"Well, all I'm trying to do is get over it." Allie stuck out her chin.
"Is that so badr
"No." Joe stood up and the sympathy in his eyes almost laid her low.
"No, of course not. But
Charlie is... well... I don't think I'd mess
with Charlie." He looked over her shoulder. "He looks
like the kind of
guy who makes an impression."
"Not on me." Allie turned and saw Charlie walking toward them. He
looked wonderful: big and
broad and solid and fun. But not permanent.
She could take him or leave him. Or take him and
leave him. No problem.
Charlie came back to the table and smiled at them. "Let's go. You can
tell me all about the station.
Leave nothing out, no matter how
disgusting. I'm braced for anything."
"Good," Allie said.
dusk. The town unfolded
before him like a set of sepia-toned postcards:
a white filigree bandstand in the park, a narrow Main
Street mercifully
free of aluminum storefronts, and a city hall that looked like a
glowering, gargoyled sandstone castle.
"Historic preservationists, bless them," Joe told him. "They fight
tooth and nail to keep old Tuttle
pure. Of course, over on the other side, new Tuttle is a symphony of
aluminum siding, but who
cares?"
"But even the preservationists can't save city hall," Allie said.
"They're going to tear down that building?" Charlie craned his neck to
look back at the ornate structure. He wasn't a historic-building nut,
but tearing down something that magnificently outrageous seemed a waste.
Joe shrugged. "I think they're just going to abandon it. Too hard to
heat or something. They've got a
new building all planned. There's a
model of it in the basement of the old building. It's awful." Joe
turned a corner and a few minutes later it was dark.
"What happened?"
"East Tuttle, better known as Eastown." Allie pointed out die window.
"See? Streetlights out, but
nobody fixes them. This is not a Good
Section of Town."
In defense of the city department, they try." Joe slowed to let a
weaving pedestrian cross. "The
vandalism around here is pretty
frequent."
"Not that frequent," Allie said. "These people get taken for a ride."
Charlie looked around at the peeling paint and broken steps and a
derelict corner grocery store, and
tried to make it fit with what he'd
seen of Tuttle before. "A lot of drugs down here?"
Allie shrugged. "Probably, but I hear the best place to score is right
by the old bandstand in the park."
Charlie started to laugh. "So much for Tuttle, the perfect small town."
Allie sighed. "It used to be sort of like that. A lot of mom-and-pop
businesses run by people who
called you by name. Most of them are gone
now, run out by the chains." She peered out the window
at another
corner store left standing empty. "You know, I don't think there are
any independent
groceries
left in the whole city."
"That's a shame." Charlie said absently. Tuttle was not a hotbed of
crime. What the hell could be
going on at a radio station in a town
like this to make a man like Bill Bonner lose his cool and his
father
send him in as an amateur detective?
Something here didn't make sense. And since his father and Bill were
involved, two men notorious
for getting their own way no matter what
the cost, Charlie was especially wary. They were up to something.
He sat silently while Joe drove and talked and eventually they came to
a slightly better part of town
full of old frame houses with big front
porches, and Charlie smiled in spite of himself. Tuttle was a
nice
little town, the kind of town he'd always liked when he'd driven
through one on his way to some
place else. He avoided stopping in any
town like this one on the grounds that if he really liked it, he'd
stay,
and then he'd take a permanent job. And if things went the way they
usually did, he'd get
promoted, and then he'd be in charge, and pretty
soon he'd be his father.
No town was worth that.
Then Joe turned again, and in a few minutes they were in a more modern
neighborhood, passing a mall.
"Tuttle has a mall?" Charlie asked, amazed.
"There's a lot more to Tuttle than meets the eye," Allie said, and
Charlie wondered exactly how much more there was, how much of it Allie
knew, and how long it would take him to get it out of her.
Charlie's car at the restaurant
and he'd followed them home, parking
behind Joe on a side street away from the blare of the traffic.
He
joined them, and Joe gestured to a three-story white brick house. "This
is us. Three apartments. We've
got the second floor."
The house was simple but elegant in its proportions, and Zharlie felt
good just looking at it. "Very nice." he said and bllowed them up the
wide stone steps and into the cream-valled hallway.
It was a great house. A comfortable house.
That made him uneasy. Getting too comfortable would be bad because
he was leaving in November. Maybe he'd be better off in a really
ugly motel.
"Come on up, Charlie," Allie called to him from the stairway, and her
voice was husky, and he began
to climb the steps to her without thinking
about it.
with two couches and lots
of lamps and bookcases, a white kitchen
big enough for a full-size oak table and a mass of cooking
gear, a
large sea-green bathroom about the size of the bedroom in Charlie's
last apartment with in old clawfoot tub about the size of his old bed,
and two arge bedrooms, one in gray and red for Joe, and
one in peach md
white for Allie. It confirmed all Charlie's suspicions that Joe and
Allie
were wonderful, warm, generous people who shouldn't be allowed out
without a keeper.
"This is great," Charlie said when they were back in the iving room.
"But you people are nuts."
Allie flopped down on one of the overstuffed couches. "Why?
"I'm a complete stranger and you just invited me into your ipartment
and showed me everything you own." Charlie hook his head at both of
them. "You're asking to be ripped off."
"Nope. We know BUI." Joe headed back to the kitchen. "Want something to
drink?"
"Iced tea, please," Allie called after him, and Charlie sat down across
from her.
"What does Bill have to do with it?"
Allie snuggled down into the couch cushions, and Charlie let his mind
wander for a moment. Allie
was as well-upholstered as the couch. A
comfortable woman. The kind of woman without angles
or sharp bones or—
"Bill owns the station." Allie said. "And nothing or nobody gets in the
station that Bill doesn't know everything about. If he hired you, he's
seen your baby pictures."
Since Bill was Charlie's father's college roommate, this was truer than
Allie knew, but Charlie was
still not convinced. "You're telling me
it's impossible for Bill to have hired a creep? Then how did
he get
Mark?'
Allie grinned. "You're biased. Mark's not so bad. He's a little
insecure, and he's ambitious for his
show, but who wouldn't be?"
"Me," Charlie said.
Joe came back in the room bracketing three iced-tea glasses in his
hands. "You're not ambitious?"
he asked as Charlie took
one.
"Nope. I'm just here to have a good time." Charlie leaned back
and sipped his tea. It was full and
rich, sun tea laced with just
enough lemon and sugar. He settled more comfortably into the couch.
"And it's a good thing I'm not ambitious since I'm on from 10:00 to
2:00 a.m."
Allie smiled at him brightly. It was a smile he was learning to
associate with Positive Career Talk.
"The time could be a lot better,"
she told him. "But don't worry. I'm going to make you a star."
"No, you are not." Charlie narrowed his eyes at her. The " only thing
that was going to save him
was that he was on so late, nobody would
notice how inept he was; All he needed was Allie drawing attention to
him as he stuck a microphone in his eye or something, and then
questions would be asked. "Don't you
even think about holding up a cue card for me. I told you. I don't want
to be a star."
Joe snorted. "You don't have any choice. If Allie wants you famous,
you're going to be famous."
"Forget it," Charlie told Allie. "Wipe the thought from your mind."
"We can talk about it later," Allie said smoothly. "Now, tomorrow
night's your first show and
I thought—"
"Don't." Charlie scowled at her. "Thinking is bad for a woman. Tell me
about the other people
at the station. I already know about Mark and Lisa."
Allie sat silent with her tea, obviously regrouping, so Joe chimed in.
"Bill owns the station and theoretically runs it as general manager."
"Theoretically?"
Joe exchanged a glance with Allie. "His wife, Beattie, decided about
six months ago that she wanted
a career. Bill gives Beattie anything
she wants, so she's pretty much running the place now."
Charlie quirked an eyebrow at Joe. This was news Bill hadn't shared.
"Is that good?"
"I think so," Joe said. "She fired Weird Waldo."
"He thought Martians were invading the station through the consoles,"
Allie said. "He kept announcing during his show that they were getting
closer. It was actually kind of interesting if you suspended
logical
thought. Beattie wanted him gone, but Bill said he was just being
colorful."
"And then he shot the console," Charlie remembered from the dinner
conversation.
"Yep, just last week. Blew the whole thing away." Allie dghed. "At
least we gained a new console.
And lost Waldo, thanks to Beattie."
"Wouldn't even Bill have fired him at that point?" Charlie asked,
incredulous.
"Bill's ability to ignore anything unpleasant is legendary." Joe told
him.
"Great." Charlie drank more of his iced tea. If Bill could ignore
somebody shooting up a broadcasting booth, the one anonymous letter
that had made him call for help must have been a beauty. He brought
his
attention back to Joe. "What else should I know?"
They talked on into the night, Joe and Allie filling him in on the rest
of the station personnel, like
Albert the anal-retentive business
manager who recited ad prices in his sleep, and Marda the ambitious
afternoon DJ who was breathing down Mark's neck for the prime-time
slot, and Karen the receptionist who knew all the gossip not fit to
print, and Harry the Howler who was on right before Charlie.
"Harry howls from six to ten," Allie told Charlie. "He likes to think
he's wild and crazy, but he's really sweet with the volume turned up.
His real area of expertise is cars, so if you ever have problems with
yours, ask Harry."
"And then there's me."
Allie nodded. "Yep. Harry's audience usually starts to fade about nine,
nine-thirty, and then we had
Weird Waldo."
Charlie tried not to show his relief. "So, at the moment, my show has a
listening audience of about..."
Allie grinned at him. "Oh, six or seven, tops. And they're all
listening because they're concerned
about the Martians, and they're
waiting for the update."
Charlie started to laugh. "Oh, God. This is going to be awful."
"Then at two o'clock, there's Grady."
"Tell me Grades normal."
"Well..." Allie stopped, obviously searching for the words to describe
Grady. "Grady is sweet. He talks about things like the life force and
crystal power and personal auras, and then he plays
classical guitar music and Gregorian chants and other..." She stopped.
"I can't describe Grady. His show is very
soothing, and he has his own
small but fanatically loyal following." She shrugged. "I like him.
Grady's
a good person."
"If he has only a small following, why is he still on the air?"
"Because he's Grady Bonner. Someday, all this will be his."
"The son and heir? Then why is he on the graveyard shift?"
"Because his following is small. Bill gave Grady two to six to keep him
off the streets."
Charlie took a deep breath. "So I'm sandwiched in between Howling Harry
and Grady I Have lived
In Other Times' Bonner?"
"That's about it."
It couldn't be better. No one would ever hear him. He started to grin.
"I'm in big trouble."
"No, you're not." Allie leaned forward. "Erom ten to two, you have a
lot of freedom. All the really knee-jerk conservatives go to bed early
so they can get up with the chickens, so your audience, once
you build
one, will be open to new things. As long as you don't do anything that
upsets Bill, you can
say anything you want. We can do this, Charlie.
We—"
"No, we can't." Charlie hated to ruin her plans, she looked so cute
trying to sell them to him, but he
was not going to be a success. "I
don't want to be famous. I just want a nice little radio show for a
few
weeks. That's all."
Allie shoved her glasses back up her nose. "But, Charlie-"
"No," Charlie said firmly.
Joe stood up. "I'd love to stay and watch this, but I have to go to
work in the morning. Good night, all."
He disappeared into the bathroom, and Charlie leaned back on the couch.
"I think we should talk about this," Allie said.
"I don't," Charlie said, but Allie did anyway, explaining all the good
things that would come his way
if he just put himself in her hands.
She was a good persuader, and under any other circumstances he might
have listened just because
she talked such a good fight, but he was
only temporary. He wasn't staying. He wasn't going to be
a success.
He wouldn't mind being in her hands, though.
He jerked his mind away from the thought when Joe came out of the
bathroom in his robe.
"Bathroom's all yours. Good night." Joe looked at Allie and shook his
head, and then he went into
his bedroom and closed the door.
Charlie frowned at Allie. She'd abandoned her argument about his career
and was now looking at him
as if she was sizing him up. He had the
damnedest feeling she was going to try a new attack. It wasn't
a
reassuring feeling. "Why did Joe shake his head?"
"What?" Allie stood up and moved to stand beside him, : smiling
brightly. "Nevermind. My bedroom,
as you know, is on the left. Want
to see it
again?"
"Come here, McGuffey." He pulled her down beside him, : trapping her
hand in his. "What are you
up to? Tell me everything, now. I can take
it."
"I was going to tell you, anyway." She sat stiff and straight. "I just
wanted to be in my nightgown
to do it."
"Your nightgown." Charlie clamped down on his evil thoughts and patted
her hand. "Well, I'm sorry
I'm going to miss that. Why your nightgown?"
She sighed. "Joe thinks this is a bad idea."
"Joe's no dummy. If he thinks it is, it probably is."
"I think so, too. Forget it." She stood up, and he caught her hand.
"Oh, no, you don't. Just in case you change your mind, I need to be
prepared. Are we going to go Vaseline Mark's car windows? Put Tabasco
in Lisa's diaphragm?"
Allie sat down again next to him. "All right. I have a favor to ask."
Charlie tried to look encouraging. "Shoot." Allie looked so
uncomfortable, he was ready for anything.
She took a deep breath. "I want you to sleep with me."
you think?"
Joe shook his head. "I'm staying out of this. Although we do have a
couch, and I do put pecans in
the waffles." He looked at Allie. "On the
other hand, I do think she's up to something."
"They better be great waffles," Charlie said.
"They'll be unforgettable," Allie promised.
* * *
Charlie wasn't used to struggling with his conscience, but then hislife wasn't usually this complex.
His conscience said, stay away, lie
low, don't get involved with these nice people. But he never
listened
to his conscience, anyway.
He was going to do it, he realized as they got up to go. He was going
to move in with Allie and Joe
and pump them for background on the
station, all the news and rumor that only friends would repeat
to
friends. It would be low and slimy of him, but it was a great
opportunity, and he'd been around
long enough to know that great
opportunities in life were few and far between.
Just keep your hands off Allie
,
he told himself sternly. It was one
thing to use her for information;
it was another thing entirely to use
her for.... He glanced down at her, and she smiled, and he remembered
how warm she'd been in his arms. Just
thinking about her was a bad idea.
Waffles and gossip, yes. Allie, absolutely no.
He excused himself and went to find a phone to cancel his motel
reservation. Remember, he told
himself. Be virtuous.
It would be a nice change for him.
* * *
"What are you up to?" Joe asked Allie when Charlie had gone.Allie shoved her chair in, squaring her shoulders. "I'm going to seduce
him." It sounded pretty
stupid when she said it out loud.
"What?"
"I have a plan. He'll be like penicillin." Joe looked at her as if she
were nuts, so she elaborated,
warming to her topic as she explained.
"Mark's just a bad habit, like a virus. All I need is an antidote.
I'll
sleep with Charlie, and then I'll be over Mark."
Joe put his head in his hands. "Even for you, this is a dumb idea."
"Why?" Allie blinked down at him. "It's worked great so far. I don't
mind about Mark much at all
when I'm around Charlie."
"And what are you going to do to get over Charlie?"
"I won't need to get over Charlie. From now on, I'm concentrating on my
career. Charlie is just
a fling."
Joe looked at her as if she were demented. "Except you're not the kind
of woman who has flings.
And you're already concentrating too much on
your career. That's how you ended up with Mark,
because he was
convenient
. And I don't think
Charlie is the kind of guy you forget."
"Well, I'm thirty-six," Allie said, exasperated. "If I don't start
having flings now, I never will. And
I'm tired of getting all wrapped
up in a gay and then trying to cope when he's gone. I want a nice,
simple, short, purely sexual one-night stand, and
then I can forget about Mark. And Charlie's out
of here in six weeks,
he said so. This is perfect.'"
Joe spoke very slowly to her. "This. Is. A. Dumb. Idea."
"Listen." Allie fought back the anger that suddenly threatened her
voice. "I know how dumb I am.
I know Mark is worthless. I knew it when
I was with him, but I kept making excuses. And now I'm
stuck in this
stupid thing where I want to be with him, and I don't even know why.
Haven't you ever wanted somebody you knew wasn't worth it?"
"Yes," Joe said. "I imagine almost everybody has."
"Well, all I'm trying to do is get over it." Allie stuck out her chin.
"Is that so badr
"No." Joe stood up and the sympathy in his eyes almost laid her low.
"No, of course not. But
Charlie is... well... I don't think I'd mess
with Charlie." He looked over her shoulder. "He looks
like the kind of
guy who makes an impression."
"Not on me." Allie turned and saw Charlie walking toward them. He
looked wonderful: big and
broad and solid and fun. But not permanent.
She could take him or leave him. Or take him and
leave him. No problem.
Charlie came back to the table and smiled at them. "Let's go. You can
tell me all about the station.
Leave nothing out, no matter how
disgusting. I'm braced for anything."
"Good," Allie said.
* * *
They gave Charlie a quick tour of old Tuttle in the late-Septemberdusk. The town unfolded
before him like a set of sepia-toned postcards:
a white filigree bandstand in the park, a narrow Main
Street mercifully
free of aluminum storefronts, and a city hall that looked like a
glowering, gargoyled sandstone castle.
"Historic preservationists, bless them," Joe told him. "They fight
tooth and nail to keep old Tuttle
pure. Of course, over on the other side, new Tuttle is a symphony of
aluminum siding, but who
cares?"
"But even the preservationists can't save city hall," Allie said.
"They're going to tear down that building?" Charlie craned his neck to
look back at the ornate structure. He wasn't a historic-building nut,
but tearing down something that magnificently outrageous seemed a waste.
Joe shrugged. "I think they're just going to abandon it. Too hard to
heat or something. They've got a
new building all planned. There's a
model of it in the basement of the old building. It's awful." Joe
turned a corner and a few minutes later it was dark.
"What happened?"
"East Tuttle, better known as Eastown." Allie pointed out die window.
"See? Streetlights out, but
nobody fixes them. This is not a Good
Section of Town."
In defense of the city department, they try." Joe slowed to let a
weaving pedestrian cross. "The
vandalism around here is pretty
frequent."
"Not that frequent," Allie said. "These people get taken for a ride."
Charlie looked around at the peeling paint and broken steps and a
derelict corner grocery store, and
tried to make it fit with what he'd
seen of Tuttle before. "A lot of drugs down here?"
Allie shrugged. "Probably, but I hear the best place to score is right
by the old bandstand in the park."
Charlie started to laugh. "So much for Tuttle, the perfect small town."
Allie sighed. "It used to be sort of like that. A lot of mom-and-pop
businesses run by people who
called you by name. Most of them are gone
now, run out by the chains." She peered out the window
at another
corner store left standing empty. "You know, I don't think there are
any independent
groceries
left in the whole city."
"That's a shame." Charlie said absently. Tuttle was not a hotbed of
crime. What the hell could be
going on at a radio station in a town
like this to make a man like Bill Bonner lose his cool and his
father
send him in as an amateur detective?
Something here didn't make sense. And since his father and Bill were
involved, two men notorious
for getting their own way no matter what
the cost, Charlie was especially wary. They were up to something.
He sat silently while Joe drove and talked and eventually they came to
a slightly better part of town
full of old frame houses with big front
porches, and Charlie smiled in spite of himself. Tuttle was a
nice
little town, the kind of town he'd always liked when he'd driven
through one on his way to some
place else. He avoided stopping in any
town like this one on the grounds that if he really liked it, he'd
stay,
and then he'd take a permanent job. And if things went the way they
usually did, he'd get
promoted, and then he'd be in charge, and pretty
soon he'd be his father.
No town was worth that.
Then Joe turned again, and in a few minutes they were in a more modern
neighborhood, passing a mall.
"Tuttle has a mall?" Charlie asked, amazed.
"There's a lot more to Tuttle than meets the eye," Allie said, and
Charlie wondered exactly how much more there was, how much of it Allie
knew, and how long it would take him to get it out of her.
* * *
It was late when they got back to the apartment. They'd picked upCharlie's car at the restaurant
and he'd followed them home, parking
behind Joe on a side street away from the blare of the traffic.
He
joined them, and Joe gestured to a three-story white brick house. "This
is us. Three apartments. We've
got the second floor."
The house was simple but elegant in its proportions, and Zharlie felt
good just looking at it. "Very nice." he said and bllowed them up the
wide stone steps and into the cream-valled hallway.
It was a great house. A comfortable house.
That made him uneasy. Getting too comfortable would be bad because
he was leaving in November. Maybe he'd be better off in a really
ugly motel.
"Come on up, Charlie," Allie called to him from the stairway, and her
voice was husky, and he began
to climb the steps to her without thinking
about it.
* * *
They showed him around the apartment: a big cream and peach living roomwith two couches and lots
of lamps and bookcases, a white kitchen
big enough for a full-size oak table and a mass of cooking
gear, a
large sea-green bathroom about the size of the bedroom in Charlie's
last apartment with in old clawfoot tub about the size of his old bed,
and two arge bedrooms, one in gray and red for Joe, and
one in peach md
white for Allie. It confirmed all Charlie's suspicions that Joe and
Allie
were wonderful, warm, generous people who shouldn't be allowed out
without a keeper.
"This is great," Charlie said when they were back in the iving room.
"But you people are nuts."
Allie flopped down on one of the overstuffed couches. "Why?
"I'm a complete stranger and you just invited me into your ipartment
and showed me everything you own." Charlie hook his head at both of
them. "You're asking to be ripped off."
"Nope. We know BUI." Joe headed back to the kitchen. "Want something to
drink?"
"Iced tea, please," Allie called after him, and Charlie sat down across
from her.
"What does Bill have to do with it?"
Allie snuggled down into the couch cushions, and Charlie let his mind
wander for a moment. Allie
was as well-upholstered as the couch. A
comfortable woman. The kind of woman without angles
or sharp bones or—
"Bill owns the station." Allie said. "And nothing or nobody gets in the
station that Bill doesn't know everything about. If he hired you, he's
seen your baby pictures."
Since Bill was Charlie's father's college roommate, this was truer than
Allie knew, but Charlie was
still not convinced. "You're telling me
it's impossible for Bill to have hired a creep? Then how did
he get
Mark?'
Allie grinned. "You're biased. Mark's not so bad. He's a little
insecure, and he's ambitious for his
show, but who wouldn't be?"
"Me," Charlie said.
Joe came back in the room bracketing three iced-tea glasses in his
hands. "You're not ambitious?"
he asked as Charlie took
one.
"Nope. I'm just here to have a good time." Charlie leaned back
and sipped his tea. It was full and
rich, sun tea laced with just
enough lemon and sugar. He settled more comfortably into the couch.
"And it's a good thing I'm not ambitious since I'm on from 10:00 to
2:00 a.m."
Allie smiled at him brightly. It was a smile he was learning to
associate with Positive Career Talk.
"The time could be a lot better,"
she told him. "But don't worry. I'm going to make you a star."
"No, you are not." Charlie narrowed his eyes at her. The " only thing
that was going to save him
was that he was on so late, nobody would
notice how inept he was; All he needed was Allie drawing attention to
him as he stuck a microphone in his eye or something, and then
questions would be asked. "Don't you
even think about holding up a cue card for me. I told you. I don't want
to be a star."
Joe snorted. "You don't have any choice. If Allie wants you famous,
you're going to be famous."
"Forget it," Charlie told Allie. "Wipe the thought from your mind."
"We can talk about it later," Allie said smoothly. "Now, tomorrow
night's your first show and
I thought—"
"Don't." Charlie scowled at her. "Thinking is bad for a woman. Tell me
about the other people
at the station. I already know about Mark and Lisa."
Allie sat silent with her tea, obviously regrouping, so Joe chimed in.
"Bill owns the station and theoretically runs it as general manager."
"Theoretically?"
Joe exchanged a glance with Allie. "His wife, Beattie, decided about
six months ago that she wanted
a career. Bill gives Beattie anything
she wants, so she's pretty much running the place now."
Charlie quirked an eyebrow at Joe. This was news Bill hadn't shared.
"Is that good?"
"I think so," Joe said. "She fired Weird Waldo."
"He thought Martians were invading the station through the consoles,"
Allie said. "He kept announcing during his show that they were getting
closer. It was actually kind of interesting if you suspended
logical
thought. Beattie wanted him gone, but Bill said he was just being
colorful."
"And then he shot the console," Charlie remembered from the dinner
conversation.
"Yep, just last week. Blew the whole thing away." Allie dghed. "At
least we gained a new console.
And lost Waldo, thanks to Beattie."
"Wouldn't even Bill have fired him at that point?" Charlie asked,
incredulous.
"Bill's ability to ignore anything unpleasant is legendary." Joe told
him.
"Great." Charlie drank more of his iced tea. If Bill could ignore
somebody shooting up a broadcasting booth, the one anonymous letter
that had made him call for help must have been a beauty. He brought
his
attention back to Joe. "What else should I know?"
They talked on into the night, Joe and Allie filling him in on the rest
of the station personnel, like
Albert the anal-retentive business
manager who recited ad prices in his sleep, and Marda the ambitious
afternoon DJ who was breathing down Mark's neck for the prime-time
slot, and Karen the receptionist who knew all the gossip not fit to
print, and Harry the Howler who was on right before Charlie.
"Harry howls from six to ten," Allie told Charlie. "He likes to think
he's wild and crazy, but he's really sweet with the volume turned up.
His real area of expertise is cars, so if you ever have problems with
yours, ask Harry."
"And then there's me."
Allie nodded. "Yep. Harry's audience usually starts to fade about nine,
nine-thirty, and then we had
Weird Waldo."
Charlie tried not to show his relief. "So, at the moment, my show has a
listening audience of about..."
Allie grinned at him. "Oh, six or seven, tops. And they're all
listening because they're concerned
about the Martians, and they're
waiting for the update."
Charlie started to laugh. "Oh, God. This is going to be awful."
"Then at two o'clock, there's Grady."
"Tell me Grades normal."
"Well..." Allie stopped, obviously searching for the words to describe
Grady. "Grady is sweet. He talks about things like the life force and
crystal power and personal auras, and then he plays
classical guitar music and Gregorian chants and other..." She stopped.
"I can't describe Grady. His show is very
soothing, and he has his own
small but fanatically loyal following." She shrugged. "I like him.
Grady's
a good person."
"If he has only a small following, why is he still on the air?"
"Because he's Grady Bonner. Someday, all this will be his."
"The son and heir? Then why is he on the graveyard shift?"
"Because his following is small. Bill gave Grady two to six to keep him
off the streets."
Charlie took a deep breath. "So I'm sandwiched in between Howling Harry
and Grady I Have lived
In Other Times' Bonner?"
"That's about it."
It couldn't be better. No one would ever hear him. He started to grin.
"I'm in big trouble."
"No, you're not." Allie leaned forward. "Erom ten to two, you have a
lot of freedom. All the really knee-jerk conservatives go to bed early
so they can get up with the chickens, so your audience, once
you build
one, will be open to new things. As long as you don't do anything that
upsets Bill, you can
say anything you want. We can do this, Charlie.
We—"
"No, we can't." Charlie hated to ruin her plans, she looked so cute
trying to sell them to him, but he
was not going to be a success. "I
don't want to be famous. I just want a nice little radio show for a
few
weeks. That's all."
Allie shoved her glasses back up her nose. "But, Charlie-"
"No," Charlie said firmly.
Joe stood up. "I'd love to stay and watch this, but I have to go to
work in the morning. Good night, all."
He disappeared into the bathroom, and Charlie leaned back on the couch.
"I think we should talk about this," Allie said.
"I don't," Charlie said, but Allie did anyway, explaining all the good
things that would come his way
if he just put himself in her hands.
She was a good persuader, and under any other circumstances he might
have listened just because
she talked such a good fight, but he was
only temporary. He wasn't staying. He wasn't going to be
a success.
He wouldn't mind being in her hands, though.
He jerked his mind away from the thought when Joe came out of the
bathroom in his robe.
"Bathroom's all yours. Good night." Joe looked at Allie and shook his
head, and then he went into
his bedroom and closed the door.
Charlie frowned at Allie. She'd abandoned her argument about his career
and was now looking at him
as if she was sizing him up. He had the
damnedest feeling she was going to try a new attack. It wasn't
a
reassuring feeling. "Why did Joe shake his head?"
"What?" Allie stood up and moved to stand beside him, : smiling
brightly. "Nevermind. My bedroom,
as you know, is on the left. Want
to see it
again?"
"Come here, McGuffey." He pulled her down beside him, : trapping her
hand in his. "What are you
up to? Tell me everything, now. I can take
it."
"I was going to tell you, anyway." She sat stiff and straight. "I just
wanted to be in my nightgown
to do it."
"Your nightgown." Charlie clamped down on his evil thoughts and patted
her hand. "Well, I'm sorry
I'm going to miss that. Why your nightgown?"
She sighed. "Joe thinks this is a bad idea."
"Joe's no dummy. If he thinks it is, it probably is."
"I think so, too. Forget it." She stood up, and he caught her hand.
"Oh, no, you don't. Just in case you change your mind, I need to be
prepared. Are we going to go Vaseline Mark's car windows? Put Tabasco
in Lisa's diaphragm?"
Allie sat down again next to him. "All right. I have a favor to ask."
Charlie tried to look encouraging. "Shoot." Allie looked so
uncomfortable, he was ready for anything.
She took a deep breath. "I want you to sleep with me."
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