Love on the Air (9 page)

"You okay?" Yvonne studied her. "They taught you
news at broadcasting school, right?"

"A couple of hours worth of class time. It's been a
while."

"I've never seen you this nervous."

Christie grimaced. "You've never seen me when
I'm about to talk for three minutes straight. In front
of Rick."

"You'll do fine. He doesn't bite. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

Christie smiled weakly. Her dealings with Rick
were more relaxed since he'd rescued her last week,
but the thought of doing the news in front of him still
rattled her. For this job, she would have cheerfully
agreed to juggle knives. It was just her luck that Rick
needed her, at a moment's notice, to do something she
had almost no training in.

She finished recording the hideous commercial with
Yvonne, then went off to the studio to meet her fate.

"Emergency?" she asked Rick, trying to borrow
some of the phony cheer from the commercial she'd
just finished cutting.

"And how." Rick circled the counter and led her
down the hall. As they passed the production room,
he leaned in once more, barely breaking his stride.
"Yvonne? Cue the next couple of songs for me in the
studio, okay?"

Christie could only assume Yvonne nodded. There
wasn't any time to glance into the production room as
Rick herded her down the hall. "I'm going to have to
run through this really quick," he told her. "The first news break is twenty-five minutes from now. Nothing
like a little pressure, huh?"

He led her into the tiny newsroom that neighbored
the studio. There was barely enough room for the
desk, which was crowded with a computer, printer and
telephone. A microphone was mounted onto the edge
of the desk. "You won't be using that," Rick said. "It's
been dead for I don't know how long. We do the news
from the guest microphone in the studio. It works better if we're face-to-face anyway."

Christie gulped. She'd never have a better chance
to screw up.

Rick pulled back the rolling chair for her to sit in
front of the computer. This time, it was more like a
silent order than a gentlemanly gesture. Christie sat.
"You've heard the old expression `rip and read,' from
the old teletype machines?" He reached over her
shoulder to operate the computer mouse. "These days,
it's `print and read.' "

Rick leaned over her, his head just above hers as he
explained where to find the news stories on the Internet, and how to turn them into radio copy. Christie
stared at the computer screen and concentrated
fiercely. For a moment, Rick rested his hand on her
shoulder; the next moment, he lifted it away, never
pausing as he spoke. It was as if it had never been
there at all.

Rick finished sketching out her instructions, then
straightened. "Got it?" Christie nodded, trying not to
look dazed. She must not have succeeded completely.
He bent down again, bringing his eyes level with hers. "Listen, I know you're going into this cold. Just do
what you can."

In nineteen minutes, Christie added to herself as
Rick left. She wasted a moment staring at the clock
on the room's gray acoustic-carpeted wall, then shook
herself. No time to worry about how little time she
had. No time for sorting out the butterflies in her stomach. Certainly no time to get worked up over a little
touch from the boss. She turned her attention to the
computer screen and concentrated on the headlines
with all her might.

Christie did her first newscast in a near-trance,
focusing studiously on the words on the paper in front
of her. But a part of her couldn't forget the gray eyes
she felt watching her from the other side of those
pages. Despite her concentration, when it was over,
she couldn't remember a thing she'd just said.

She looked up at Rick; he was nodding in satisfaction. "Not bad," he said. Christie pursed her lips to
silence the sigh of relief that whooshed out of her.
Rick started putting away a stack of CDs, damage control for the clutter that had accumulated in the studio
during the first hour of his shift. "I'll need you back
in here at five-thirty. Do you have any problem staying
through the six-thirty news?"

'No."

He glanced up from sorting and shelving. "Thanks."
His smile was brief, but it was genuine. She must have
done all right.

An hour later, when she finished her six o'clock
newscast, the heat was off. Just one more to go, and
she had enough material to work with now. The studio seemed a little less frenetic at the moment, so she
asked, "What happened to Jonathan?"

"Family emergency. He got a call after I went on
the air. His grandmother back east had a stroke. I sent
him out so he could catch a flight." By his tone, she
could tell it wouldn't have occurred to him to do otherwise. Christie wasn't sure her old employers would
have been so accommodating.

The phone light flashed, and Rick turned to answer
it. While he did, Christie lingered a moment to take
in the controlled chaos around her. She'd been working here almost a month now, but this was the first
time she'd seen Rick in the studio.

What she saw was a man in his element.

Rick's studio was physically the same room she
worked in night after night, but apart from that, it was
a different world. The afternoon drive shift buzzed
with activity. Phone lights flashed, bringing in traffic
reports and listeners' requests. Newspapers, trade
magazines and scratch paper with various notes covered every surface. And at the center of all this chaos
was Rick-often intently focused, but never seeming
rattled, even when he was doing five things at once.
He always seemed to know which direction to turn to
find the needed scrap of paper amid the layers that
were strewn around. If she ran this show for even half
an hour, Christie thought, she wouldn't remember her
own name.

As she watched, Rick recorded another phone call,
cued a CD, and jotted an apparently unrelated note on
another scrap of paper. She couldn't help admiring his
seeming ease: quick, but never rushed; intent, but never stressed. No wasted motion. She didn't think he
noticed when she slipped out.

But he was waiting to greet her when she came in
for her final newscast at six-thirty. "Last one," Rick
said. "Stay on the air with me after you finish your
stories this time."

"What?" Just when she thought it was safe.

"No big deal," he said, putting on his headphones.
"Just stay loose, and we'll talk before I start the next
song."

Rick introduced the traffic, then the news; there was
no time for her to think about it. Probably just the way
he'd planned.

She finished the newscast with her two biggest
stumbles of the day. When it was over, Rick said,
"Now, in case you've been wondering just who you've
been hearing on the news this afternoon-" he met
her eyes, giving her a nod across the console "-
Christie Becker, our overnight personality, filling in
for Jonathan Blair on very short notice." He fired off
an applause sound effect.

She felt a twinge of embarrassment and put it to
use. "Please. You're making me blush."

"They can't see you blush." He grinned. "Remember, this is radio."

To her surprise, her nerves faded under his smile.
"This is radio?" She smacked at her forehead. "That
explains the microphone."

"And the fact that neither of us have gotten paid in
a month," Rick added.

"And the fact that we're both dumb enough to keep
doing it."

Rick laughed. "Touche." He started the music, then
straightened away from the microphone, pulling down
his headphones. "Very nice."

"Fun," Christie agreed, returning his grin. It may
not have been hilarious, but it had been spontaneous.
It had felt good. Best of all, she hadn't fallen on her
face.

They were both still smiling when Rick met her
eyes, and Christie felt something.

Click.

Professional chemistry? Or something else?

Christie stepped backward, and bumped into the
wall behind her. "Am I done?"

"Just a minute." He was still looking at her, but his
expression had changed to one of thoughtful assessment. Probably for some purely professional reason.
A brief frown passed over his brow, then faded.
"How'd you like to do it for the rest of the week?"

Just as she'd suspected. Purely professional. Christie leaned back, borrowing a little support from the
wall. "News?"

Rick nodded. "Jonathan won't be back in until next
Monday, at least. I'll need someone to fill in." He
nodded again, as though agreeing with himself. "This
worked out fine. You did a nice job. There's a difference between reading news and commercials. You
know the difference. And the last break-" He
shrugged. "I think we play off each other pretty well."

She folded her arms. "Always a method to your
madness, isn't there?"

"Usually." He didn't bother to hide a smile. "You'd
have to do the morning news, too. And that two-hour air shift from two to four in the afternoon, between
Yvonne's and mine. It's a weird schedule, but it all
adds up to about eight hours, if you do it right. And
your day starts at about 5:30 A.M., so I'll want you to
do it right. Which means no volunteering for Yvonne
while you're doing this. You get some rest between
the morning news and your afternoon shift. Can you
do that?" He seemed to realize she hadn't said yes yet.
"And are you interested?"

A week in the studio with Rick. It appealed to her
for more than just professional reasons, and that was
the problem. Christie thought for a moment, but there
was really nothing to think about. Any new challenge
was a vote of confidence, and she'd be a fool to turn
it down. Especially a chance to be on the air in broad
daylight.

So she said what she should have said in the first
place. "Sure."

"You'll have to put up with McKeon on the
morning shift. Let me know if he gives you too much
trouble." The matter settled, Rick started shelving CDs
again. "Of course, I hear that afternoon drive guy's
even worse."

Two days later, Rick drummed out a song intro on
the black countertop. Christie entered the studio with
her clipboard of news stories and took her place across
the counter from him. As she checked over the papers
in front of her, she started singing along with the
music, without any apparent break in her concentration. That didn't surprise Rick at this point; she seemed to know the words to everything. The girl
must breathe music.

A few days ago, she never would have started singing in front of him so easily. Rick was tempted to tease
her, but he didn't.

Christie jotted a change on her news copy and
glanced up, breaking off the song for the first time.
"You get more upbeat songs on this shift."

"It's called day-parting. Wouldn't want to keep your
overnight audience awake."

She fixed him with a mock glare, and he grinned at
her. He was going to miss her when she went back to
her regular schedule. He'd been putting Christie on the
air with him for more and more of his breaks as the
week wore on, rather than just when they were going
into the news. It was fun, and it added to the show.
He and Jonathan worked together smoothly, but it
wasn't like this.

"Rick?" He inclined his head, prompting her to go
on. "Would you mind if I slipped out a little early
tonight, after the last newscast?"

That was as late as he officially needed her to stay,
anyway. He could spare her for the last half hour.
"Sure." Rick picked up the log to sign off on the previous hour. He kept his eyes on the page as he
scrawled his initials. "Date?" he asked her. He made
the single syllable as casual as he could.

"A movie with Yvonne. It starts at seven." There
was a pause. In an equally casual tone, she added,
"You?"

Rick looked up from the log sheet. Christie's eyes
were back on her news stories, checking over what she'd already checked over. Her eyelashes were lowered in studied nonchalance, but she was biting her
lower lip, an enticing little habit that she probably
didn't know drove him crazy. Right there, on the
lower left corner. As if she were nibbling an appetizer
Rick would love to sample himself.

"Oh," he said, "you mean, do I have plans tonight?
Yes."

She looked up, and Rick caught a flicker in her eyes.
Gotcha.

He squinted up at the ceiling. "Let's see, tonight it's
... Budget Gourmet. Frozen beef medallions with
mushrooms."

She smiled, and her posture relaxed ever so slightly.
"I see. Does the veal parmigiana know about the beef
medallions?"

They both laughed.

"Want to use that, next break?" Christie asked.

"Sure." Rick had laid out two basic ground rules for
their on-air banter. One, he was never referred to as
the boss, he was just another hapless jock. Two, he
was fair game. In fact, if the jokes were on him, so
much the better. Rick pulled on his headphones and
got back to work, watching Christie as she did the
same.

He knew he was playing with fire. But it served her
right for biting her lip like that.

The week flew by.

Christie's mornings with Mark McKeon were every
bit as bad as Rick had warned. He was arrogant and
dismissive, never speaking to her on the air and rarely at any other time. He obviously considered her news
an interruption of his show; Christie wondered if he
was any more civil to Jonathan.

The afternoons made up for it though. Being in the
studio with Rick kept her on her toes in more ways
than one, but she was learning. Their breaks together
after the news kept getting better. No elaborate,
scripted comedy bits, just simple, light banter. All
things considered, Christie hated to see the week come
to an end.

She was passing through the lobby on Friday, just
before her two P.M. air shift, when a woman walked
in the front door with a small boy. The receptionist
wasn't up front, which wasn't unusual. At first, Christie had thought the girl was lazy, but that was before
she found out how many other tasks Karen was pulled
away from her desk to do.