Love on the Air (17 page)

Rick nodded wordlessly. Instead of smiling, he kept
looking at her with that mock seriousness, which was
even worse.

"So we spent the night sleeping under flat, wet plastic," she finished awkwardly.

"Mm-hmm. Well, at least it doesn't look like rain."
Rick handed her the second speaker and stood close
by as she secured it into place. "So, what happened?"

"I told you! Nothing."

He burst out laughing, and Christie steadied the
speaker. She'd only thought she was embarrassed before.

"I meant, to the boyfriend," Rick said. "Did you
bury him out in the woods, or what?"

Oh. Christie waited for her face to cool. It was still
a fairly personal question. But there wasn't anything
very personal in the answer; like most of her past, it
was pretty mundane. "He graduated. Moved to Washington, D.C. Last I heard, I think he was working for
some congressman or other."

Actually, he'd asked her to marry him. Christie had
been shocked. They'd dated for three years, but he'd
been her first serious boyfriend, and at that point in
her life, a long-term future had never entered her mind.

Her answer seemed to satisfy Rick. He was busy checking wires. Apparently he hadn't been that curious after all.

By the time they were done setting up, it was nearly
noon. Christie realized she'd had precious little chance
to be nervous. In fact, she was beginning to enjoy
herself. It was almost time to start, and she felt the
now-familiar thrill of panic. Rick made sure she knew
how to work the equipment that connected her with
the jock back at the studio, so she could broadcast her
breaks. Then he stepped back. "It's all yours from
here," he said. "I'm just here for backup in case you
run into trouble."

His hand brushed her arm, just barely a touch, as
he turned away. Christie felt an unexpected shiver of
goose bumps and looked back over her shoulder to see
if Rick had noticed. But he was walking away, toward
the canopied sidewalk of the little strip mall that was
home to the new Bonker's Burgers.

At the weekend disc jockey's cue from the studio,
Christie spoke brightly into the microphone: "Hi, this
is Christie Becker with KYOR, broadcasting live at
the grand opening of Bonker's Burgers. And if you're
hungry, come on down ..."

Dollar burgers were quite a draw, thank you very
much.

In no time, Christie was besieged by listeners who
didn't know her from Adam, but who were very interested in one dollar hamburgers and any prizes they
could get their hands on. She staved them off with
station bumper stickers, but on Rick's advice, held on
to the movie passes until the mania subsided. She felt dwarfed by the crowd, so when she was making announcements, she adopted a perch on a three-foot-high
block of cement at the base of a light pole. Rick was
hanging back as promised, but from the sidewalk of
the little strip mall, she thought she caught a grin.

She was standing on the light pole base, about to bait
the crowd with the first pair of movie tickets, when the
speakers abruptly stopped playing the radio station.
Christie glanced around and spotted the trouble: a baby
stroller had pulled loose the power cord near the restaurant's entrance. Before she could jump down to correct
the problem, Rick was there, plugging the cord back in
before the song on the air had finished the chorus.
Christie caught his eye and nodded her thanks.

Click.

There it was again, she could have sworn it. From
halfway across a busy parking lot. Professional chemistry, she reminded herself, as Rick faded back into
the crowd.

The lunch crowd had thinned out, and the remote
was in its last hour, when Yvonne pulled up. Christie
went over to greet her as she climbed out of her car.
"I thought I'd try a burger," Yvonne said.

Christie hugged her with a grin. "You lie like a rug.
This remote has more reinforcements than the SWAT
team."

"Okay, you win. I wanted to see how you're doing.
You sound great."

"Thanks. It was a madhouse for a while, but it's
been fun."

Yvonne's eyebrows arched. "Any trouble with
Rick?"

"So far, so good."

"I thought I'd see if I could give him a lift back to
the station, now that you've had a chance to prove
you're not going to burn the place down."

Christie considered. It might be a good idea. Things
were going well, but then there was the ride back in
the van. And there was that click.

Rick's voice came from Christie's right. "That's
okay, Yvonne. I'll help her tear down."

It was her first uncomfortable moment in the last
two hours. Christie glanced at her watch. "Here comes
my break," she said, and escaped to her cement perch.

Yvonne tried once more. "You're sure you don't
want a ride back?"

"I'm fine." He smiled at her, and it was indistinguishable from any other smile she'd seen on him in
the past three years. "Come on, Yvonne," he said
lightly, "what do you think I'm going to do to her?"

His casual grin stayed firmly in place. Did the man
have a single nerve in his body? He obviously knew
she had some idea what had gone on between him and
Christie, but he looked her right in the eye. Yvonne
gave up. "How's she doing?"

"Terrific." Rick looked across the parking lot, and
Yvonne followed his eyes.

Christie stood on the cement block, holding the
movie passes high over her head. The sunlight hit her
hair and turned it into red-gold fire. "I've never felt so
popular," she told the crowd, shaking the prize drawing box tantalizingly.

Yvonne turned back to Rick. He was still looking
at Christie, and in that moment, all he was doing was looking at Christie. She should have spotted it from
the start, back when the always cool, collected and
congenial Rick Fox had practically yelled at her when
she questioned him about the girl. The man was smitten. If anyone ever looked at me that way, Yvonne
thought, I'd melt in a puddle at his feet.

"And the winner is..." Christie juggled the microphone, passes and prize drawing box with surprising
ease. "Sharon Wild!" She brandished the winning
prize drawing slip as if she were awarding a Grammy.
Amid a light smattering of applause, she hopped down
and handed the tickets to a pretty brunette woman.

No one was going to get that worked up over someone else's movie passes, but the crowd obviously liked
her. And she was playing it for all she was worth. It
was, admittedly, a sight to behold.

Yvonne said, "She's something else, isn't she?"

Rick turned back, and the faraway look was gone,
with no evidence that it had ever been there. He was
good, all right. But Yvonne knew what she'd seen.
"She does a great job," he acknowledged.

Yvonne couldn't keep her mouth shut. "You're going to lose her, Rick." She stopped herself there. He
could take it whichever way he wanted, personally or
professionally. Because whichever way he wanted, it
was true.

Rick examined her. "Do you know something I
don't?"

Careful. She hadn't driven over here to put Christie
in hot water. "I know someone like her doesn't do
overnights forever."

"Is she looking?" Rick's scrutiny deepened. She
shouldn't have said anything.

"She hasn't mentioned it." But I told her she should
start looking.

Rick's tone was neutral. "So what do you suggest?"

Sweep her up and carry her off? It might solve
Christie's personal problem, but not her professional
problem. "I don't know. Give her a raise?"

Rick laughed. "For the overnight shift? When she's
barely been here three months? Management would
love that. I've been trying to get more money for you
for the last year and a half."

Yvonne frowned. "I only asked for that raise a few
months ago."

"Yeah, well. It's not my fault you're slower than
me." Rick stepped back. "You'd better get some
lunch. Assuming that's why you came."

Christie was on a natural high as they packed up the
van after the remote. She thought it had gone well; it
made her less worried about the number of items she
carried. It was hard to remember how uncomfortable
she'd been a few hours before. She and Rick worked
smoothly side by side, and he kept her laughing with a
steady stream of anecdotes about past radio disasters.

"You've sure got some war stories," she said.

"You get some, after fourteen years."

She'd had a question in the back of her mind for a
long time. Now seemed like as good a chance as any
to ask. "Rick, why did you leave L.A.? I mean, I know
there was a lot going on then, but..."

"That's one of my worst stories." He was winding a long orange extension cord with the expertise of long
practice. The winding slowed. "But I guess it's another
good lesson in Ugly Radio Truth." He slapped the cord
into the plastic crate and picked up the next one. After
a long pause, he looked at Christie, but he seemed to
be seeing somewhere past her. "When Sylvia left, it
made the station grapevine. And there was someone
standing by to take advantage of the situation. We had
an overnight guy who was as enterprising as you, only
he wasn't as nice about it. About that time, we got a
new program director, and that didn't help." Another
bundle of cord went in with a slap. "One night, an
empty bottle of Scotch turned up in the studio. It
wasn't mine." His eyes held hers, as if to be sure she
believed him, but Christie didn't doubt it. He had no
reason to lie to her, or even to tell the story. "So there
were accusations, and of course I denied it. You have
no idea how hard it is to be convincing when you're
denying flat-out lies. I didn't use the word `framed,'
because that sounds so paranoid, but-" He shrugged.

"They fired you?"

"Oh, no. They're not stupid. That's a lawsuit waiting to happen." He smiled ironically. "In fact, all
would have been forgiven if I'd come clean and done
a stint in rehab. That's the twisted part. If I'd been a
falling-down drunk, I might still be there today. No,
out of the goodness of their hearts, they took my word
for it. It wasn't until a few weeks later that they announced some changes were being made. They were
bumping me to overnights, and the overnight guy was
getting my shift. They didn't dare fire me, but they
could nudge me out the door. It worked."

"That is an ugly story."

"It's a little tawdry." He shrugged, then smiled
again, looking as though he'd just brushed himself off.
"If it eases your mind any, I don't think they come
much worse than that." He took the last speaker stand
from her and loaded it into the back of the van.

"What happened after that? You couldn't find an
opening in Los Angeles?"

"Well, at first I didn't try. I sold furniture for a few
months, if you can picture that. When I look back, I
think I was actually trying to make myself as
miserable as I could." They were done loading, but to
Christie's surprise, Rick took a seat on the open back
of the van, resting his arms on one raised knee. She
considered joining him, but decided it was better not
to get that close.

"When I did look," he said, "I got two offers. One
was for seven to midnight again, at another L.A. station.
The other one was afternoon drive here. They promoted
me to program director about a year after that. I made
the right choice." He looked at her as if he expected her
to argue the point. "The thing is, Los Angeles is a very
competitive market. I don't mind competition, but some
of the forms it takes-" He shook his head. "You've
got people from major cities all over the country climbing over each other to get there. And once you do,
you're always looking over your shoulder, wondering if
someone else is after your job. Your coworkers aren't
friends, they're competitors. All these years later, I'm
still in touch with people from Fresno, Antelope Valley,
San Bernardino ... but not one person from Los Angeles. A friendship like you and Yvonne-it wouldn't happen. Instead of being glad for the help, she'd be
afraid you were after her job."

Christie's eyes widened. "I never even thought-"

"Of course you didn't. And neither did she. That's
what's nice about a market this size. If you can find
something that pays enough. I admit that's not easy."
He shook his head again. "I'm rambling. I guess all
I'm saying is, Christie ... it's not always a nice place
out there. Make sure you know what you want." His
eyes were fixed on hers, and Christie had the feeling
this was the first honest conversation he'd had with
her since Christmas. No longer the affable chameleon,
he was speaking directly to her. And she still wasn't
sure what he meant.

He was looking at her so seriously. What was he
trying to tell her?

Rick stood. "Just something to think about, when
you move on." He turned to close the back of the van.
She couldn't see his face.

Christie felt a surge of guilt over the tapes she'd
sent out. He couldn't know about that. Could he?
"Trying to get rid of me?" she asked lightly.

"Of course not." Rick slammed the door shut. "Just
another ugly radio truth." He took the keys from the
lock and held them up, his professional smile back in
place. "Mind if I drive on the way back? Sorry. It's a
man thing."

What was the difference between working three
hours together on a remote, and driving ten minutes
together back to the station? The silences began to grow. She watched Rick with his hands on the wheel,
eyes straight ahead.

Two blocks from the station, he broke one of the
silences. "By the way, I won the bet."

"What bet?"

"Ninety days today. And it doesn't look like you've
snapped."

"Oh." That was today? "Hey, wait. I didn't bet
against myself."

"Then I guess we both win." He spared her a glance
for the briefest of smiles.

Christie found a smile to match it. "So what's my
prize?"