WLUV Box Set: Ignited, Consumed, Burned (13 page)

Shelby was
going a million miles an hour, as usual. She struggled to balance her camera, a
tripod, and her three-inch peep toes. She needed to get the perp walk and a
question on camera.

The “perp
walk” was a staple of local news. Reporters would line up with their crews to
get a shot of the suspect and fling questions at him. In this case, the suspect
who’d murdered a convenience store owner was being questioned by detectives.
When they were finished, they’d escort him to the jail, and from there he’d be
arraigned.  

Shelby
wasn’t sure how she was going to shoot her video and get her question in. There
were no extra photographers at WLUV and with Alva, the WLUV police reporter,
off for the week, Shelby was left to fend for herself in this unfamiliar
territory. She appreciated the chance to tackle the lead story, but nervous
knots formed in her gut. Meanwhile, the competition was poised, experienced,
and ready to crush her on this story.

Her
competition was Secor Comstock. Secor was the hottest thing going in Grand City
News. She worked the police beat at the number one station. She was aggressive,
gorgeous, and she intimidated the heck out of Shelby. Secor probably
intimidated the convenience store perp, and he had just killed a guy!
Allegedly
killed a guy, don’t forget to say allegedly
, Shelby reminded herself or
Macy would not-so-allegedly kill her.

Shelby
took the last few steps to the 3
^rd
floor with her precarious load of
gear. She didn’t want to let Macy down. If Secor was going to have the perp walk
and get a question in her story, then so was Shelby.

When she
opened the door, she saw that Secor was already there at the detective bureau,
her photographer attached at the hip. Every time Shelby was anywhere near Secor
all she could think was
try to be as tough as her. Don’t get beat.

Shelby hoisted
the camera on her shoulder and hit “record.”
Let’s do this.
Despite
being just barely over five feet tall, several years of ballet training left
her with strong muscles and the ability to grit out a little discomfort. The
camera weighed heavy on her shoulder, though, that was that for sure.
Champions
play with pain
, Shelby coached herself a little, just like Macy would do if
she were there.

The doors
to the interrogation room opened and the man accused of shooting the
convenience store clerk – over what wound up only being $25 bucks in the cash
drawer – emerged, flanked by two officers.

Secor and
her photographer were better positioned than Shelby. They stepped right in the
path of the suspect. Right in front of Shelby’s shot.

“So, why
did you shoot Mr. Allaban?” Secor’s question perfectly articulated and timed.

“He didn’t
do what I said to do fast enough,” the perp delivered his unsettling answer
straight to Secor and her camera lens, damn it.

The two
police officers and the convenience store suspect blew past Shelby. One of them
even put a hand out so the camera nearly fell from her arms. She recovered the
equipment then lowered it down carefully, feeling slightly dejected.

She’d have
shaky, blue video, and her bosses would see the better story air on their
competition. She was beaten. Unless….

She had an
idea.

Back in
the newsroom Shelby quickly finished the last edit and put the video package
into the computer rundown so it would be ready for the six o’clock news. She
didn’t have much time to get to the set, so she hauled her makeup bag along
with her. As the newscast’s opening theme ran and the anchors tossed to
Gordon’s story on the mayoral race, Shelby looked in her compact.

She had to
be ready in three minutes, so as quickly as she could, Shelby patted down the
flyaways in her wavy dark hair – Macy said it was probably too long – then
applied a layer of lip gloss. Her microphone was threaded up through her turtle
neck and clipped on. She gave her cheeks a quick pinch and blotted her nose
while looking at her script.

Smooth as
silk, anchor Fawn Clawson delivered the line Shelby had written for her, “While
Carl Hopkins was charged with aggravated murder today, his widow spoke
exclusively to our Shelby Virtue and shared a heartbreaking twist to this
story. Shelby?”

Shelby
didn’t skip a beat. “Today, shortly after Hopkins was taken into court to be
charged I sat down with the widow of his alleged victim. Tara Allaban says that
while police searched for the man who robbed and murdered her husband, she had
just learned that she was pregnant with their first child.”

They ran
the story and Shelby watched her video. Blue, shaky, and terrible in the police
portions, but the interview with the newly widowed mother-to-be was emotional,
no matter what the technical problems. It showed the true cost of the murder.
Shelby hoped Macy would be proud.

The story
finished with a shot of Tara Allaban locking up the store her husband had run;
their only livelihood was now completely her responsibility.

“Carl
Hopkins will face a pretrial hearing next week. Tara is unsure how she’s going
to run the store alone. Shelby Virtue, reporting for WLUV News.”

The
anchors moved on to the next story while Shelby quietly disconnected her mic
and headed from the studio to the newsroom. She hoped Macy liked her story,
even if she knew some of it was crap.

Heading
towards the “Glass Cube,” the glass-walled, no-privacy news director’s office
in the middle of the newsroom, she saw the usual suspects: Mr. Thompson, the
GM; Macy, the news director; Bernie the assignment editor, and a few other
reporters, all watching the newscasts. What she didn’t see until she’d actually
entered the room was the brooding dude in the corner. She’d never understood
exactly what smoldering meant until that moment.

Holy
Mother of Huge, the guy was a mountain.

Their
little news family had been invaded by this scary blonde. Dressed in khakis, a
tight T-shirt, and combat boots, he looked like he’d be more at home in combat
with the Marines than WLUV’s Glass Cube.

Macy
turned her attention from the bank of television screens against the wall to
Shelby. “So the video? Blue.”

A camera
needs to be “white balanced” before it shoots video so the video doesn’t come
out in a strange color. Shelby had not white balanced before the perp walk.

“And of course,
Secor smoked us on the walk.” Macy continued. If it were possible to shrink any
smaller than her five-foot, one hundred five pound frame, she would. She’d let
Macy down.

“I know.
She got there before me and then I sort of fell down as the police walked past
so the video wasn’t too great.” Shelby would not cry, though she wanted to.

“Who cares
about the perp walk?  You nailed it with the widow! That was damn fine
reporting. You got the real impact of the crime and focused on the victim and
not the criminal. I loved it— except Tara Allaban was also blue.” Shelby winced
at the last bit but was thrilled with the rest of Macy’s critique of her story.
Wes Thompson gave her a little nod so she knew he was pleased too. She
unclenched her fists and relaxed a bit now that she knew she wasn’t fired for
losing to Secor.

“I’m glad
you didn’t give up when Secor beat you to the punch. And hey, I’ve got some
good news. Meet Mac.” Shelby looked over at the mysterious figure. Nothing
about him looked like good news. But she’d been stealing glances at him and the
introduction gave her a reason to look straight into the man’s face.

This Mac
character barely fit in the conference room. He was bigger than Mr. Thompson,
who had to be over six two. His sandy blonde hair was a little too long and
skimmed just above his shoulders. He had a hint of scruff on his chiseled jaw
and buried under bushy eyebrows were the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Shelby
tried not to look at his lips but found herself wishing hers were as full.

“Hi.”
Shelby, usually a mile-a-minute talker couldn’t manage another word, but the
word
wow
was screaming in her brain and she was glad she hadn’t blurted
that out loud.

Mac nodded
and barely acknowledged Shelby. Okay then, the strong, silent, sexy type.

“Mac’s our
new photographer.” Shelby saw a look pass between Wes and Macy with a note of
victory on Macy’s face. Normally her two bosses kept the looks and touches well
away from the rest of the staff but Shelby caught every single one. It gave her
a contact high just seeing the way they were together.

In the
“man department,” Shelby was batting zero. Consistently. She had one college
boyfriend, Douglas, and when she’d slept with him, it was a get-it-over-with
sort of situation.

She wanted
what her boss had with Mr. Thompson but dang, she sure didn’t want to wait
until she was nearly forty to get it. Then again, Macy Green may have waited a
while but she’d hit the jackpot.

“Mac’s
going to be your partner out there for a few weeks. He’s the most talented
photographer I’ve ever worked with. I’d like to see what you can do when you
don’t have blue video. Also, we’re switching you to nights.” Something caught
Macy’s attention on the television screen, so the introductions and
announcements were over.

“Did you
see that? They’ve spelled it wrong again.” Macy was calling the producer in the
booth. It was Shelby’s cue to leave the office and head to her desk.

She could
actually feel Mac’s footsteps behind her as he left the office as well. It made
her self-conscious somehow, knowing he was right behind her. Was he looking at
her ass?
Did it look okay?

Then she
felt like an idiot as Mac continued straight on past her into the newsroom
without acknowledging her.

By the
time Shelby reached her desk, the news had begun to sink in. She was finally
getting her own photog!

She had
worked with Gary, the senior photographer, when they’d covered the snow storm,
and if she could do her stories in less than an hour Bernie would let her take
Chuck or Trent, but other than that the photographers went to Alva or Gordon or
the other senior staff. If Shelby wanted to get a story on WLUV she had to find
it, shoot it, edit it, and beg for a spot in the shows. That’s exactly what
Macy wanted, to see if she could cut it. And she could, dammit. But she had to
admit yelling questions while carrying a camera that weighed almost as must as
she did was getting old.

Having a
photographer to shoot with was going to be a whole new ball game. Since the
moment Macy had given her a chance as a reporter she’d tried to show grit. She
didn’t cry anymore, and now – finally – with a little help, she’d get to hunt
down a story. Plus the premier reporters were in the six and the eleven o’clock
newscasts, which meant that Macy thought she could handle being in the shows
with the most viewers.

Shelby was
so giddy she had to remind herself not to skip; luckily the damn gear she
lugged kept her from doing a little jig in the newsroom. It was filled with a
lot of cynical people. If she squeed in the middle of the office she’d never
hear the end of it. They already called her things like “the kid,” or “the
rookie reporter.”

She
hoisted her assigned gear into the photographer’s garage. The lockers were
assigned to all the photographers, and so Shelby had to borrow gear from
whatever photog was off that day to do her work.

All the
other photographers were long gone; Shelby was always the last to get out of
the newsroom. She’d often stay late either rehashing what she’d done during the
day or rewriting something for a later segment. She didn’t go out, she didn’t
have a boyfriend, and she didn’t really care because the newsroom was her life.

Shelby
opened the locker door and stashed the tripod, then girded her loins to heft
the camera to the second shelf. This was her least favorite part of the day,
fighting with the gear. She had the gleeful realization this was the last time
she’d have to haul her own equipment around for a while.

The
lockers were designed for someone a foot taller than Shelby so she essentially
had to deadlift 50 pounds over her body to get it to the shelf without breaking
anything, including anything on her person. She found it was best to try to
give it a swing above her head.

“One, two,
three!” She strained to push the weight of the gear over her head but misjudged
it terribly, so the heavy camera was pulling her down, backward. Shelby had a
brief flash of her head smacking on the cement and the camera broken into
pieces. Figures, she thought. The minute she gained the bosses’ trust, she
busted a camera.

But then
she didn’t. With one arm, someone caught her backward trajectory and with the
other, they saved the equipment. Mac. Neither she nor the camera seemed to
weigh a thing in his grip.

“Whoa,
thank you! I was about to crack my head open.” Shelby felt ridiculously swooney
in Mac’s arms. Clearly, the situation did not have a similar effect on him; his
square jaw and intense eyes indicated that he saw little humor at the moment.

“This
camera probably costs 50 grand, let’s not throw it around.” Mac’s voice was
deep and sexy as hell, but without a trace of warmth. He popped her back up on
her feet, his hands lingering just half a moment to be sure she was solidly
upright.