Tony Partly Cloudy (24 page)

After clearing his windshield of snow, Tony drove carefully to the studio, wondering what to expect. On one hand, he had totally bombed the audition, and ignored his management’s orders. But on the other hand, his forecast had been correct. Would that be enough to save him from being fired?

The surprise blizzard slowed traffic to a crawl, and it was nearly noon before Tony made it to WEFQ. After parking his car in the studio lot, Tony used his electronic swipe card to unlock one of the rear doors of the building, hoping to make a low-profile entrance.

No such luck. As he walked into the soundstage, a good number of crew members were clearing the set from the morning broadcast.

“Tony Partly Cloudy!” one of them called out. The others turned to look, and suddenly the whole group was cheering and applauding. Tony froze, caught completely off guard by the spontaneous show of support. As abruptly as it had started, the ovation stopped, and the crew members hurried back to their tasks. Tony turned, and saw why: Fletcher was walking onto the soundstage.

Pushing his panic aside, Tony started walking toward Fletcher. Frankie B had always taught him to face his trouble head-on. And Fletcher was definitely trouble.

As the two men drew closer, Tony spoke first.

“Listen, Mr. Fletcher, I—”

Fletcher held up a preemptive hand. “Not here,” he said. “Two o’clock. My office. We need to talk.” Without another word, Fletcher turned and walked away.

Shit, Tony thought. This wasn’t good. Why else would Fletcher be so short with him, if he wasn’t planning to fire him? Tony paused to look around the soundstage, soaking it in. Oh well, it had been fun while it lasted.

“Tony!”

Tony turned to see Josh’s mop of red hair heading in his direction. As Josh drew closer, he held his hand up for a high-five.

“Nice call on the lake snowball effect thing, dude!”

“That’s lake effect snow,” Tony said, half-heartedly slapping Josh’s palm.

“Whatever,” Josh said. “Bottom line is you nailed it.”

“Yeah, but I probably nailed my coffin shut at the same time.”

“I don’t know,” Josh said. “From what I hear, some of the people of this fair city have some pretty crappy taste.”

“What do you mean?”

Josh broke into a smile. “Well, word has it that lots of people actually
liked
your big Italian mug on TV last night!”

Tony grabbed Josh’s upper arm. “What are you saying? Don’t mess with me, Josh.”

Josh tried to pull away. “Ow – lighten up there, King Kong. I only have one other arm, after you break this one.”

Embarrassed, Tony let go.

“Sorry, Josh. I’m just kinda on edge.”

“No shit,” said Josh, rubbing his arm. “But what I’m saying is that we got a ton of calls about you, and a lot of them were from people who apparently liked you.” Josh made a show of rotating and flexing his damaged arm. “For reasons I’m sure I don’t understand.”

Tony smiled. “Come on, I barely touched your arm, you wuss. But seriously, are you messing with me about this?”

Josh quit fussing with his arm, his face turning serious. “No, man, I’m not messing with you. I’m only an intern, so I don’t get all the inside scoop, but from what I gather, you went over well last night. I thought you were hilarious, personally.” Seeing Tony’s face darken, Josh hastened to add, “Hilarious in a
good
way. Seriously, you were entertaining as hell to watch, and hey,” Josh pointed to the nearest doorway, “your forecast was right on. You ask me, that’s a pretty good combination: an accurate forecast with an entertaining delivery. What’s not to love?”

Tony rubbed his jaw with his hand. “Really? You think I came off okay? I mean, we’re friends and all, so are you just being nice?”

Josh smirked. “Dude, when have you ever known me to be...
nice
?” Josh twisted the word as if its meaning were both foreign and distasteful.

“Good point,” Tony said. “Anyways, I’m supposed to meet with Fletcher at two.” Tony looked at his watch. “Jeez, what am I supposed to do ‘til then?”

“How about... your
job
?”

Tony turned to see Chip, who had spoken after catching the tail end of the conversation.

“Chip – hi! I didn’t hear you come up behind me! I mean, I—”

“It’s okay, Tony,” Chip said. “I’m getting used to you ignoring me.”

Josh took the opportunity to make himself scarce. “I’ll catch you later, Tony,” he said over his shoulder as he scurried away.

Tony’s shoulders sagged. “Listen, Chip. I’m real sorry about last night. I don’t know what came over me. I had no idea—”

“Relax,” Chip said. “I’m just joking. I mean, you caught me off guard with your audition. The whole thing, not just the snow forecast. You just went in and did your own thing. Nothing like I expected – hell, nothing like anybody expected.”

Tony hung his head. “I know. I just decided on the spur of the moment to just be myself. But I’m real sorry about not doing your forecast, after I said I would.”

Chip smiled. “Tony,” he said, “it’s hard to argue with success. You called it right. I mean, you did notice it was snowing, didn’t you?”

Tony grinned. “Yeah, I did pick up on that on the way to work. So we’re okay, you and me? I didn’t want you thinking... I don’t know, that I had disrespected you or nothin’.”

Chip shook his head. “No offense taken. Like I said, you did your own thing. That took balls. Bigger balls than most people have in this line of work. I have to respect that. Hell, in some ways I envy you.”

“Envy? Me? What are you talking about?”

Chip paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Finally he said, “You didn’t play it safe. You didn’t play the game – well, maybe you did, but you played it your way. And even though what you did went against all conventional wisdom, somehow you made it work. Tony, people loved you.”

“Really?” Tony still couldn’t quite wrap his head around this. “I mean, Josh was saying we got a few calls from people who I guess thought I was okay...”

Chip grabbed Tony by the shoulders. “A few calls? Tony, we got thousands. Thousands. People who thought you were much more than okay. People who loved you.”

“No shit?”

Chip clapped Tony’s shoulders. “No shit.”

“So you don’t think I’ll be fired?”

Chip laughed out loud. “No, Tony, I don’t think they’re going to fire you. In fact, I think you may find you’re moving up in the world. But I can’t say more than that, not until you meet with Fletcher.”

“Moving up? What are you talking about?”

But Chip was already walking away. Without turning around, Chip held up one hand in a wave, and said, “Come see me after you talk to Fletcher.”

♠ ♥ ♣ ♦

Fletcher didn’t look up when Claudette ushered Tony in at two o’clock.

“Sit down, Tony,” he said, focusing on a few sheets of paper scattered across the top of his massive oak desk. He flipped one sheet over, scribbled something on it, then collected all the pages into one stack and racked the edges of the paper against his desktop to line them up. Then he set them aside. Finally, he looked at Tony.

Taking his cue, Tony said, “Hello, Mr. Fletcher. You, uh, wanted to see me.”

“Yes, Tony, I did.”

“About last night, I—”

“Tony,” Fletcher said, holding up a hand. “Allow me to talk for a moment, will you please?”

“Sure, Mr. Fletcher. Go ahead.”

Fletcher leaned back in his chair. “Tony,” he said, “Last night was probably the single most unprofessional thing I have ever witnessed at WEFQ since I took over the leadership of this station in the early eighties. The way you talked, the forecast you gave,
the instructions you ignored
...” Fletcher glared at Tony to emphasize that last phrase. “All told, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody break so many rules in so short a time. In just three minutes you violated almost every established convention of broadcast meteorology. And you did so during your
audition
. During our most heavily viewed time slot.”

Fletcher took off his glasses, placed them on the desk and rubbed his face with both hands. Finally he went on.

“Your little escapade prompted more phone calls than any broadcast in the history of this station. Our voicemail system finally crashed around lunch time. But by then we’d logged nearly six thousand calls.”

Fletcher put his glasses on. “We held a board meeting during lunch. During that meeting, we reached a decision that confirmed what I’ve been thinking since mid-morning today. And that decision was unanimous.”

Here it comes, thought Tony.

Fletcher reached for the paperwork he’d been going over when Tony came in. Holding it out, he said, “Tony, we’ve never had such an...
unconventional
performance on one of our newscasts. But we’ve also never had such an overwhelmingly positive response to an on-air debut here at WEFQ. Based on both of those facts, we are offering you the position of Chief Meteorologist, on a ninety-day probationary basis. What that means is... well, hell – let’s call a spade a spade. What that means is that you have three months to prove to me that I’m not crazy for hiring you.” Fletcher dropped the papers on the far side of his desk, in front of Tony.

“Take a look at these papers – they’re just preliminary, but they show your new salary, and spell out the terms of the agreement. Legal is still working on the final version of the offer letter, along with the long-term option we’ll invoke in ninety days if all goes well. Look it over, have your attorney look it over, and we can finalize it next week if you agree to the terms.”

Speechless, Tony picked up the papers and began looking through them. He focused on a number. A large number. Pointing to it, he asked Fletcher, “Is that my new salary?”

Fletcher leaned forward to check, then nodded. “Yes – that’s your annual salary during this ninety-day period. It will then form the base salary for the long-term contract, but that will involve a signing bonus, and the actual salary will probably have some room for negotiation. That’s if all goes well.”

Tony called on every ounce of composure he’d learned hosting the Partly Cloudy Poker Club. With forced restraint he said, “And when would you like my answer?”

Fletcher smiled, both surprised and impressed by Tony’s cool handling of the situation. Maybe this kid wasn’t as dumb as he looked. He said, “Shall we say, by the middle of next week? Say, Wednesday at the latest?”

Tony said, “That will be fine.”

Not to be outdone in the polite restraint department, Fletcher said, “Excellent. On your way out, why don’t you set up a Wednesday appointment with Claudette, so we can conclude this business?”

“Thanks, I’ll do that.” Tony rose, about to burst from maintaining this James Bond frostiness. He extended his hand, saying, “Mr. Fletcher, thank you very much for this opportunity.”

Fletcher shook his hand, and replied, “You’re welcome, Tony. I hope this all works out. If nothing else, I look forward to an...
interesting
three months.”

Tony smiled. “I guarantee it.” With that, he turned and let himself out of the office. After the door closed, Fletcher stood up and made a beeline for his liquor cabinet. This Tony character was full of surprises. First that quirky but on-target forecast, and now a cool head for business. Thinking back to his meeting with Jimmy Carbone, Fletcher reflected that there seemed to be more than met the eye with the men in this family. As he reached for the bourbon, Fletcher heard a muffled shout from outside his door. It was hard to make out, but it sounded something like
holy fucking shit
.

‘PARTLY CLOUDY’ BRINGS SUNNY SKIES TO WEFQ
.

That was the headline in the Entertainment section of the Rockford Register Star six weeks after Tony assumed his probationary role as Chief Meteorologist at WEFQ.

Viewership for the Rockford station’s ten o’clock news has nearly doubled over the last month, according to Nielsen surveys, a shift many attribute to the addition of meteorologist Tony Bartolicotti – known to his growing fan base as “Tony Partly Cloudy” – to the WEFQ News Team.

Bartolicotti’s forecasts are notable both for their accuracy and their delivery: laced with colorful Brooklyn colloquialisms, Tony presents the weather in an unorthodox manner, as informal as it is informative. So far, it’s a winning combination.

Probably the first broadcast meteorologist ever to warn his audience to bundle up because “it’s gonna be pretty freakin’ cold outside,” Bartolicotti’s rough-edged but appealing approach is reaching more viewers every day. “They tune in because they’re curious,” says WEFQ General Manager Dale Fletcher, “but they keep coming back for forecasts they can count on.”

Competing local stations are sitting up and taking notice, some going so far as to take thinly veiled potshots at WEFQ’s new addition during their own newscasts. One station has more than once introduced a weather segment as “just the weather, no gimmicky weatherman,” while another station’s chief meteorologist made a joking reference to “putting out a contract on the Don of the Doppler” (referring to the Doppler radar system used by most television meteorology departments). Despite their barbs, both stations continue to lose viewers to WEFQ’s colorful new weatherman.

Bartolicotti, who holds a bachelor’s degree in meteorology, spent five years at the National Weather Service in its Key West forecast office. He joined WEFQ’s meteorology team in 1999, assuming the role of Weather Producer, providing off-camera support for the station’s daily newscasts. “Tony’s the real deal,” Fletcher continues. “His training and experience are on a par with any chief meteorologist out there. His delivery is colorful, I’ll admit, but our viewers enjoy him. I guess you could say he makes you a forecast you can’t refuse.”

“Did you see this?” Sarah asked, plopping a newspaper on Tony’s desk, folded to reveal the story.

“Are you kidding me? It’s all I keep hearing about,” Tony said, picking up the paper and wincing at the headline.

“You don’t sound too happy,” Sarah said. “What’s the problem?”

Tony said, “I don’t know – that stuff Fletcher said seemed pretty cheesy. I mean,
make you a forecast you can’t refuse
? What the hell is
that
?”

Sarah smiled. “Well, if you think it’s cheesy, consider the source.”

“Good point.”

Sarah sat down in the only other chair in the office, draping herself sideways over its arms in a way Tony found very catlike and sexy. But he might be biased, he allowed.

Sarah said, “Tony, the bottom line is that all this publicity is great. People love you – you’re a hit. You could really turn this into something.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean,” Sarah said, “your probationary period is up soon. Our ratings are up. That means the station is making more money.
You
are making the station more money. Which means you can ask for more, when it’s time to negotiate the long-term contract.”

Tony rubbed his jaw. “Wow, you think?”

“I think,” Sarah said. “Face it – you’re a rainmaker for the station now.”

Tony started to laugh, causing Sarah’s face to darken.

“What the hell’s so funny?” she demanded.

Tony stifled his laughter and said, “So now, I not only
predict
rain, I also
make
it?”

Sarah tried to scowl, but her smile kept breaking through. “You know what I mean – it’s a figure of speech!”

“I know, I know,” Tony said. “So you really think I should ask for more money? I mean, I gotta tell you – they’re already paying me pretty good. And I have an actual
office
now, not just a desk by the weather equipment.” Tony gestured around the room. “Overall,” he said, “things are pretty freakin’ good.”

Sarah smiled, looking around the small but pleasant office. “Yes, that’s true. Things
are
pretty freaking good, as you so eloquently put it. I just want things to be as good for you as they can, you know?”

“I appreciate that, Sarah. I’m just still pinching myself, you know? I can’t believe I’m actually getting to do this job. It’s literally a dream come true. But I’ll think about what you said. I got a few more weeks to go before it’s time to discuss my contract.”

“Just be ready to discuss it when that time comes,” Sarah said. “You’ve got time now to prepare yourself, so you can go in there and state your case. And newspaper articles like this give you a lot of artillery – that’s all I’m saying.”

“Fair enough.”

Sarah stood. “Listen, I’ve got to run. The mayor’s doing a ribbon-cutting on the East Side, so Darby and I are on it.”

“Who’s driving the van?” Tony asked. “If it’s you, I’ll go ahead and fire up the Emergency Broadcast System, so’s I can issue a warning to the East Siders to stay off the roads until the danger has passed.”

He ducked just in time.

♠ ♥ ♣ ♦

Tony grew more comfortable on camera each day, and the anchors and crew became more accustomed to interacting with him. Learning to trust his own instincts, he now opened each weather segment with a simple “I’m Tony Partly Cloudy – how ya doin’?” The station’s marketing department developed a
Tony Partly Cloudy
logo that was emblazoned across the top of the screen during Tony’s broadcasts. An intern from Rock Valley College was filling in for Tony as the team’s weather producer, and was doing a decent job of it.

Things
were
pretty freaking good.

But none of that was as exciting – as intoxicating – to Tony as the job of studying the weather, and then sharing his predictions with his viewers. He was feeling more and more tuned in to the weather of the region. Now that he only worked afternoons and nights, he often spent his morning hours driving around the local area, out into the flat expanses of northern Illinois, east to the banks of Lake Michigan, south into the farmlands, driving with his windows down regardless of the temperature. Learning the weather.
Feeling
the weather.

As a result, Tony’s forecasts were astonishingly accurate, getting things right far more often that he got them wrong. And when he
was
wrong, it usually wasn’t by much.

This was not going unnoticed. The field of meteorology by its very nature depends on communication, and word was rapidly spreading among the meteorology community about Tony. Every day he received dozens of e-mails from meteorologists around the world, asking him how he formulated his predictions, what equipment he preferred, how he got his start in TV meteorology. He answered as many of these as time allowed.

Then there was the fan mail. Suddenly he was deluged with it, both in actual letters and in his e-mail inbox. They ranged from crayon-scrawled requests for autographs to some rather suggestive notes from presumably single women eager to “get to know him better.” These would often include phone numbers, body measurements, and photos, all of which Tony rapidly discarded, fearful of Sarah finding them. Others wrote highly detailed procedurals outlining what they would like to do to Tony, with Tony, for Tony, or vice versa. Some of these were highly inventive, and in some cases, quite anatomically challenging.

Tony tried to answer as many as he could, although he avoided responding to any letters with content that exceeded a PG13 rating. He didn’t want to encourage that kind of thing.

But meteorologists and fans weren’t the only people reaching out to Tony. Now he was being contacted by other TV stations. Tony’s answer machine began to fill up with messages from other stations around the country, inviting Tony to contact them to discuss
career opportunities
. Not wanting to be rude, Tony returned all of these calls, surprised to find several stations who seemed ready to offer him a job without so much as an interview. One in California offered him a salary that was triple what he was making at WEFQ.

Tony called Sarah to invite her over for dinner, eager to discuss these opportunities with her. “I’m making
spaghetti a la Tony
,” he said, hoping to tempt her with his cuisine.

Sarah laughed. “How come everything you make is
a la Tony
? I mean, didn’t you one time make me a sandwich that was
peanut butter and jelly a la Tony
?”

“Hey, I can’t help it if you don’t appreciate gourmet cuisine,” Tony said in a pouting voice. “Jeez, see if I ever make you
corn flakes a la Tony
for breakfast again!”

Sarah arrived that night, with a bottle of Australian wine.

“What the hell is
Shiraz
?” Tony asked. “Didn’t the liquor store have any nice Chianti?”

“I’m trying to broaden your horizons,” Sarah said. “You know, sort of a cultural exchange? After all, since you introduced me to
tuna salad a la Tony
last week, it’s the least I could do.”

“Well, if you put it that way, I guess I can try this stuff,” Tony said, still casting a dubious look at the bottle.

Between mouthfuls of
spaghetti a la Tony
, Tony told Sarah about the messages and offers he was starting to receive from other TV stations.

“Wow – that’s great, Tony. That’s even more artillery for when you go in to talk to Fletcher about your long-term contract.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figure,” Tony said. “I mean, one of them offered me three times what I’m making now.”

Sarah put down her wine glass. “Really?”

Tony nodded. “Three freakin’ times the money. But it’s out in California.”

Sarah looked down at her food. “So, what do you think about the idea of maybe taking one of those offers?”

Tony looked at her, trying to gauge her expression. “Well, to be honest, I’m not really that interested in leaving. I mean, I don’t know how you feel about things, but I’m kinda interested in this thing you and I got going, you know? Like, I really don’t want to mess this up, just to go someplace else to make some more money.”

Sarah was still looking down, so Tony continued. “I mean, we haven’t gotten all heavy about talking about this stuff, but I gotta tell you – I’m pretty serious about you. About us. I hope I’m not jumping the gun by saying that, but it’s how I feel.”

Tony leaned forward, trying to read her face. “So, how do
you
feel about that stuff?”

When Sarah looked up, her eyes were brimming. In a soft, hoarse voice she said, “As much as I keep saying I want you to make the most of your career, the selfish part of me doesn’t want you to go anywhere.”

Tony leaned back in his chair. “Man, I’m glad to hear you say that! I was afraid it was just me felt that way. I’m happy here. I mean, here in Rockford, working at WEFQ. I’m happy here
with you
.”

Sarah surprised Tony by pushing her chair back from the table and standing up. She turned and walked away, her voice low as she spoke.

“Tony?”

“Yeah? What are you doing? Did I say something wrong?”

“Follow me.”

Tony stood, dropping his napkin on the table.

“I don’t get it. Where are we going?” he asked, following her as she disappeared into the bedroom. The last two words of that question were muffled, as Sarah’s blouse hit him in the face.

“But your food will get cold,” he protested weakly, untangling her blouse from his face and draping it over a chair.

“Do you care?”

This time Tony’s reply was muffled by Sarah herself.

Quite a while later the two tousled lovers discovered that
spaghetti a la Tony
tasted just fine when reheated, and talk of Tony’s career resumed.

“Anyways, like I said, I’m not interested in leaving here. Most of the calls I’m getting are from all over creation – California, Colorado, Virginia, and a couple in Texas. But I got a message Friday that I haven’t returned yet. It was from WGX.”

Sarah swallowed, and daubed her face with a napkin. “
The
WGX? In Chicago?”

“One and the same.”

“Tony, that’s
huge
!”

“Believe me, I know. They didn’t say much, just gave me the GM’s name and number, asked me to call them back.”

Sarah said, “That reminds me – do you have a no-compete clause in your probationary contract?”

“What’s that?” Tony asked.

“It’s something most of the on-air talent has to sign, saying they won’t go and work for another station up the street. It helps protect a station’s viewership. Usually it defines how big an area your market is considered to be, and prevents you from working for another station in that same market for a certain length of time.”

Tony said, “I don’t think so. I don’t remember seeing anything like that. But there really wasn’t a lot of paperwork. Hold on – I have copies in my filing cabinet.”