Rock Radio (4 page)

His father still lashed out in drunken bouts, but Cody didn’t fight back.

Not yet.

He wanted his body in perfect condition before he took his father on.  He was physically ready to do it, but when the time arose, he couldn’t.  Something in him did not allow him to strike his father.

So Cody got a gun.

It was a rainy night.  Kevin came home, drunk again, screaming his usual tirade at his mother who was cowering in the corner, taking punch after punch.  Cody pulled the silver revolver from under his mattress.  He bought it three weeks ago from his friend Roy who worked at the pawnshop in town.  Roy sold it to him for fifty bucks at the back door of the store.

“Dude, don’t say where you got this, I could get in big trouble,” Roy said as he handed Cody the gun and slipped the carefully folded bills into his pocket.

“I won’t,” Cody promised and took his piece of mind back home, hiding it in his room.

All he needed to hear were the screams.  He looked down at the gun in his hands.  He’d never fired one before.  He pointed it at the wall and took aim, placing his index finger on the trigger wondering if he had it in him.

“You whore bitch!” he heard his father yell.  And then his mother was crying.

Oh, yes, he did.

Slowly, Cody walked out of his room, a sense of calm coming over him.  He tiptoed into the room.  His father’s back was to him.  Kevin was bent over Jane, too busy screaming at his mother to hear Cody approach.  He turned when he felt cold steel against his forehead.

“Get up,” Cody said evenly.

“What the...?” Kevin spun around and swatted at Cody.  Cody ducked.  His dad was drunk, Cody was alert and strong.  He’d been preparing for this moment for years.

His dad came at him again.  Cody stepped aside and turned to punch his father as he flew by.  Kevin stumbled to the floor.  Cody pointed the gun at his father.

“I will shoot you if you come after my mother or me again.  I will call the police if you don’t leave.”  His voice was strong, his hand steady, his heart terrified.  “This is not a threat.”

Kevin tried to get up and lurch at Cody.  Cody cocked the gun.  The loud click silenced Kevin.

“Get up,” Cody said, motioning the gun at his father, “get up and don’t you ever come back.”

Kevin scrambled to his feet.  “You’ll be sorry.  Try livin’ on your own bright boy,” he spat and tumbled out the door.  Cody immedia
tely ran to the door, locked and chained it, then turned to his mother.

“It’s over,” he said, lowering the gun.

His mother looked at him with fear in her eyes.

“Cody Blue, what do we do now?”

Dana Drew wasn’t lying about coming in early to do show prep.  Not really.  She did have an interview that day with the hot new rock band, 99 Thieves, but she pretty much k
new all the info about them already.  And she did want to read the newspaper, as usual, to find any cool stories or local tidbits that might make her show more interesting.  But the show prep reason was really an excuse.  Truth was, Dana’s boyfriend was moving out of their apartment today and she didn’t want to be there.

Dana thought Sam Quinn might have been the one.  She met him standing in line at the post office.  They had a nice conversation, a real conversation, with no talk of who did what for a living.  It was a refreshing change.  Being Dana Drew wasn’t supposed to be a twenty-four hour job, but it was.  Inevitably, when she was out, people recognized her and expected her to
be their buddy from the radio.  She wasn’t sure if new friends were friends because of who she was or what she did for a living.

The same applied to men.

To some she was a conquest.  They wanted to say, ‘I had Dana Drew.’  She had to be very careful who she dated and was always wary in a new relationship.  She knew it made her seem distant to interested guys, but Dana had to know if they were dating Dana Hill from Orlando or Dana Drew, rock deejay.

Dana, like most disc jockeys, didn’t use her real name on the air.  Most deejays portrayed a close relationship with their listeners, but the airwaves were where the “friendship” began and ended.  The on-air persona was a character and when the deejay got off the air, private life began.  Giving out your last name was like an invitation to be found, at home.  Dana changed her name as soon as she got into the business.  Drew was an easy choice for a last name...it was her dad’s
first name, Drew Hill.

Dana and her dad were incredibly close, she was daddy’s little girl from the minute she was born.  He supported her career always telling her to pursue her dreams.  He discouraged her from holding a job in high school saying, “You’ll have plenty of time to work when you get out of school.  Enjoy yourself now.”

Dana’s mom was a different story.  Independent and a bit kooky, Talia Taylor Hill kept their household...
interesting
.  Life was never dull as Talia went through phase after phase, from hardcore working career mom to a free spirit artist spinning clay bowls and vases in the garage to a Mary Kay saleswoman hosting parties, dreaming of a pink Cadillac.

Dana remembered the day her mom quit her high-powered bank job to take up pottery full time.  She rearranged her life and their house.  Dana came home from school one afternoon to find her mom pushing furniture around the family room.  “I’m correcting the house spiritually,” she told Dana as she moved a lamp across the r
oom, using a book as a guide, “It’s feng shui.”  Two months later the lamp was moved to become a spotlight for the latest eye shadow color palate.  “A different kind of Zen,” her mom had said with a shrug of her shoulders, “Wanna be my test model?”

Dana’s dad took his wife’s eccentricity in stride...and with a not-so-occasional eye roll.  It was her parent’s easy going nature that made it easy for Dana when she decided to pursue an unconventional career in radio.  When she told them, their reaction was, “Go for it.”  Their encouragement pushed her to chase her dream and make it come true.

Very few people knew Dana Hill.  Her on air persona had taken on a life of its own.  Dana herself answered first to Dana Drew.  It was startling to hear Dana Hill, no one knew that name.  It was not just the name that defined her, but her radio attitude as well.  Even when she made friends, they all expected Dana Drew, funny and “on” all the time.

Sam, she thought, was different.  He had just moved to South Florida and was at the post office to give a forwarding address.  He’d been in town all of one day and hadn’t really listened much to the radio.  He met Dana Hill and asked her out.

Dana was thrilled.

Sam was attractive, well built with dirty blonde hair and coffee brown eyes.  He was a lawyer with a large firm who just transferred from New Jersey to the company’s main office in Fort Lauderdale.  When Sam found out Dana’s profession he was intrigued, not star struck. 
Oh, sweet relief.
  Dana’s image was a tough rock ‘n roll chick.  She flirted in her breaks and at appearances giving the impression that she was cool, laid back and very worldly.

The truth was quite different.

Growing up in a suburb of Orlando, Dana Hill was small town with big dreams.

It was the eighties and Dana embraced the decade with open arms:  over aerosoled hair with bangs teased into the perfect poof, severe rouge
and heavy blue eye shadow (Mary Kay, of course), giant shoulder pads to compliment every outfit and gummy bracelets.  Lots of gummy bracelets.

She was a huge fan of the glam rockers whose hair was the envy of every girl. The male ones.

Bon Jovi.  Bret Michaels. Sebastian Bach.  Winger.

Their poster
s lined her walls.  Super skinny guys sporting long flowing hair, tight animal print pants and thick eyeliner who named their bands Poison and Skid Row.  It was like they thought toxins and tough neighborhoods would counteract their girlish good looks.

Dana dreamed of interviewing them one day, of being a part of that world.  Every Sunday, she’d lay on the floor with her dual cassette boom
box listening to Casey Kasem’s American Top Forty.  When her favorite song came on she’d quickly hit play record.  The beginning of every song got clipped, but she didn’t care.  She’d compile all her favorites, play the tape back and talk up the song, making her own radio show.  John Taylor and Simon Le Bon were frequent guests.  She convinced her friends to portray them, accents and all.

Dana cultivated an alternate persona, someone cooler and hipper than she ever was.  Someone who always had an ingenious line or a quick retort, the confident person she didn’t think Dana Hill would ever be.

Her passion fueled her drive to become Dana Drew, the girl with the answer for everything.  This bravado gave her the guts at eighteen to march into a local Program Director’s office while she was in college and fudge her way through an interview.  Whether he bought her creatively written resume or not, he liked her attitude and gave her a weekend shift (albeit a night shift) on the spot.  Attractive, talented and gutsy were a successful mix for a female jock, and she had it.

Dana came up in radio when the new decade began.  Loud colored clothing was replaced by plaid button down shirts. Glam rock was edged out by grunge.  Nirvana and Pearl Jam brought a new energy to the music world.  Dana loved it all.

When her small town radio station changed formats and went classical, she moved on a whim to Miami and got a job as a board-op for a local radio talk show host who broadcast every Sunday morning.  She missed being on the air, but Miami was big time and she was willing to wait out an opportunity.  It didn’t take long.  Dana’s drive and personality helped her gradually work her way up to an overnight shift, a weekend shift and then a full time job doing evenings on WORR.  This was major market rock radio.

They were now nearing the end of the nineties and Dana was at the top of her game.

Dana acted like rock’s princess, but at twenty-nine, she really just wanted to be married with kids.  She loved her career, but it was just that, a career.  For years she had tunnel vision.  As the only female on staff she had to work twice as hard and twice as long.  The hours didn’t bother her, the double standard did.  Time and again, she watched new jocks, male jocks, get hired as she was passed up for another on air shift.  But she was undeterred.  This was her dream and she was determined to succeed no matter what it took.  And she did.

Recently, though, the blinders came off.  Her internal clock had begun a slow tick.  She realized she didn’t want to be a deejay forever.  She wanted to be a wife and mother.  Few people saw this side of her.  Few knew Dana Hill was as vulnerable as Dana Drew was tough.

That’s what made Sam so special.  He was unlike anyone she had ever dated.  He knew Dana Hill before Dana Drew...he knew her hopes, her dreams and her fears.  They rented movies on Saturday nights and took drives to the beach.  He didn’t expect her to be constantly witty and clever like all the others did.  Their relationship was wonderful, and after six months, Sam moved in.

But nothing in Dana’s life ever lasted forever.

Over time, Sam grew tired of Dana’s crazy schedule.  She was on the air from six to ten Monday through Friday.  He worked from nine to five, so they rarely saw each other.  She’d get home just as he was going to bed.  Weekends were no better.  Dana often had appearances or remotes so her time was limited.  Sometimes Sam would come with her on the weekends and hang out in the background in an effort to spend more time together, but he hated seeing her acting flirty with the guys who’d show up.

“It’s just an act,” Dana explained time and time again, but that wasn’t good enough for Sam.

And last night it all came to a head.

“Sam, I told you, it doesn’t mean anything.  I’m playing a part.”

“I know, but I don’t like to see it.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t come with me then.  It’s okay,” she steadied her voice.  “I don’t need you to be at the remotes with me.  We’ll make time elsewhere.  I promise.”

“That’s just it Dana, you don’t need me.  You got your whole Dana Drew thing going.  I feel like Mr. Drew.”  He raked his hands through his hair and began to pace.

Dana could feel where this was heading.  “Sam, c’mon, you know you mean so much to me.”  Her heart was breaking inside.

“Dana,” he sighed.  “I do love you, but we barely see each other.”  He looked her straight in the eyes.

“Sammy, I love you, too.”  Dana twirled her raven hair.  “We can make this work.”  She walked toward him and put her hand on his arm.  She could feel his body stiffen and saw his eyes darken.

“You know, I used to think we could, but we can’t.  I can’t do this anymore.”

“Oh Sam...we can...” She hated the hint of desperation in her voice.  For all the adoration, she led a lonely life.

He stepped away from her.  “We can’t.”

Sam was never generous with his words.  When he said something, it was always well thought out and true.  Dana suddenly realized Sam wouldn’t be doing this on a whim.  He had obviously given this a lot of thought and had made his final decision.

But Dana had to try, she loved him.

“Sam.”  Tears welled in her green eyes.

“Dana, don’t do this,” Sam said, softening for the moment and embracing her.