WLUV Box Set: Ignited, Consumed, Burned (3 page)

Macy pretended to watch the monitors as Wes left but she was
checking out his ass, the way that incredibly tight butt filled out his dress
pants. Everything about the man caught her attention, and it was exactly what
she didn’t need right now. Her last relationship had been a colossal mistake;
she’d so misjudged Phil that she wound up exiled from network news while he and
that slut Kirstie were the new King and Queen of television. Her news judgment
may be spot-on, but her man judgment sucked. It was important to keep reminding
herself that.

Thinking about Wes Thompson’s ass, shoulders, jaw, mouth –
all of it – was the road to major trouble, for her career and for her heart.
She had a job to do here and screwing around with the station owner was not
part of it. Nope. Ignoring the lustful thoughts that her current assignment had
ignited was the smart woman’s choice. Not to mention that, by the looks of Wes
Thompson, he’d probably left a trail of women just like her broken-hearted all
over the map.

She was laser-focused on her new mission. As much as she’d
loved being an investigative journalist, her new job was fulfilling in its own
way. Going into a station, finding what was wrong, coaching the people, it was
rewarding. It was perfect, also, because she wasn’t there long enough to form
lasting bonds or make messy connections. Get in, fix what you can, get out.

Wes Thompson would be a messy connection, no question.
Especially when she kept thinking about how she’d desperately wanted him to
close the tiny distance between them in the cramped editing bay. She could
almost feel him throw her up against the wall. Good god. What was wrong with
her?  She needed this job, which meant she needed to repress her lusty little
inner voice and the things stirring up in her. She deliberately trained her
eyes on her surroundings.

First off, this news director’s office was a clear
indication that this station’s trouble came from the top down. The place was a
mess, and not the organized chaos of a hard worker, but a neglected, disarrayed
space. She pulled open a large lower drawer and a bottle of Straight Shot
Bourbon rolled forward. No surprise there. News Director Pat Walters was a
problem that would need to be addressed. But since he wasn’t there, she’d work around
it.

She set up a laptop at the conference table and called
Bernie into the office.

“Bernie, sit down. You’re the E.P. Tell me, how do we miss a
double fatal traffic tie-up like that? Both our competitors led with it tonight
at six, live from the scene, and we were showing file video of a city council
meeting from what, last week? Gordon did the story.”

“Macy, I heard about that accident on the police scanner and
I told the kids – you know, everyone in the bullpen – I told them about it. But
they’re locked in on their rundowns and they’re afraid to change things at the
last minute, so nothing was done.” Bernie shook his head, frustrated. “They
have no idea how to adapt once they’ve stacked their shows with whatever they
came up with in the morning. And Gordon isn’t going live on the highway. He’ll
be the first to let you know.” He rolled his eyes as he said it.

“Well then some of these newbies can do it. We need to make
sure the ones who are green and hungry do the stuff Gordon says he’s too good
for.” Macy knew how to work the personalities in a newsroom.

She studied Bernie for a moment. It made no sense for him to
be an Executive Producer, chained to a computer. He could translate the police
scanner. She’d called a few people he used to work with and they all said that
he had “scanner ear.” If it was breaking news, fire calls, bodies found, and
beat checks; Bernie was on top of it. This station couldn’t afford to miss
breaking news anymore. It needed someone in authority to quickly dispatch
crews.

“Here’s what I want to do. I want you to move to assignment
editor. Don’t worry— I’ll see that you stay at the same pay rate. I’ll find
some kid with OCD to handle the Executive Producer job or even just leave it
open for a while. But the youngsters in the newsroom need someone who
understands the police scanner and knows how to dispatch crews. I know you know
how to get them where they need to be, and fast. I need you to get crews to
breaking news. If we can win there, we’ll win viewers. What do you think?”

“Sounds good, Miss Green. You’ll never miss a double-bagger
again if I’m on the assignment desk.” An assignment editor job was much more
stimulating than crossing T's and dotting I's of on-air graphics, his main job
as an executive producer. Bernie seemed to relish the idea, even if everyone
hated the assignment editor at one point or another because, well, they
assigned the work. Like it or not, when the assignment editor says go, then
it’s time to go. But Macy bet that Bernie wouldn’t blink at their grousing when
he interrupted their cushy city council stories and sent them on breaking news
runs.

 “Great. I’ll deal with the producers. They’ll know how to
put live breaking news on the air by the end of the week. I just need you to
get me that news.”

Macy felt good about the first change. The next problem was
the current twenty-something assignment editor. The veteran reporters dismissed
the young girl when she tried to tell them what they needed to cover. Macy’s
second change would be putting her to another task. “And send little Shelby
Virtue in here.  I’m going to rock her world.”

“I hope she’s not too disappointed that I’m going to take
her job.” Bernie winked and walked into the newsroom. She had the feeling
Bernie had her figured out. It made her smile a bit, being with an old-time
news guy. Too few of them had survived the last few decades of consolidation
and layoffs. If she couldn’t fix WLUV, Macy realized, Bernie may be forced to
retire. The thought motivated her to give this station everything she could.

“Virtue to the Glass Cube, Shelby Virtue to the Glass Cube,”
Bernie announced as if he were paging a doctor to an ER. Apparently “The Glass
Cube” was what they called the news director office, which made sense. It was
an office, in that there were walls, but since they were glass, it wasn’t
exactly private. Everyone knew when you were in the Glass Cube and even with
the door closed, facial expressions and gestures could give away whether
someone was being promoted or reamed out.

Macy was about to make Shelby Virtue’s day.

“Hi, Miss Green.” Macy shook hands with the tiny little
thing. She was a brunette, five feet, and change. Macy wasn’t sure if she was
just getting old or if all recent college graduates looked that young.
Certainly they weren’t all as adorable as curvy little Shelby Virtue.

“First of all, you’re off the assignment desk.” Macy let the
news settle in on Shelby for a second and watched the girl start to tear up.
Crying at work was a rookie thing. Macy may have cried a time or two when she
was covering a tragic story, but not in the newsroom. No way.

“Second. Don’t cry at work.” Macy handed the girl a tissue.

“Third. I saw your YouTube resume. You were trying to get a
reporter job. Why did you settle for assignment editor here?”

“I just wanted to get in somewhere. My college professor
said I could work my way in. And Mr. Walters said maybe I could fill in on the
air. It’s been six months, though, and so far nothing.”

“I liked your YouTube resume. You’re gorgeous, and somewhere
in that girlish voice and college wardrobe there’s potential...but you’re going
to need a lot of polish and some real experience.”

Shelby seemed to get even smaller, somehow, as she waited
for the other shoe to drop. Macy continued, “Tomorrow you’re moving to junior
reporter here. You’re going to get the worst assignments, like snow storms,
county fairs, and car accidents. But if you’re here to learn how to be a
journalist, I’m giving you the chance. If you’re here to learn how to host
Entertainment
Tonight
, you can leave. What do you think?”

“I think I could cry with happiness—” the young thing
straightened up, “But I don’t cry in the newsroom.”

Macy smiled. The kid was a knockout, had a 4-point from the University
of Michigan, and she was obviously coachable. Giving her a chance was another
good change. “All right, day shift tomorrow. Be prepared to be on the air. That
means coat and gloves that look halfway decent. Do you have that?”

“Black dress coat, pink scarf, black gloves?” Shelby
offered.

“Black coat with dark hair… not perfect, we need contrast.
But it works for now. And wear something warm underneath. As a reporter, you
have to look good, but you’re going to be in the elements or at a crime scene
or who knows where.”

“Got it. And thank you.”

“Ok. Go home.” Macy shifted her attention from the young
woman. Television people needed attention, withholding it was a fantastic
motivator. Time to see if this adorable little Shelby had any grit.

Shelby left and Macy made the rounds meeting the evening
crews. She’d be working day and night to get them all on the same page, but the
first few days were about learning their names, their strengths, and
weaknesses. Here in Western Michigan, viewers liked ‘

\97live and they liked not too sexy, something she’d have to
address, she thought, as she eyed the outfits of one or two of the younger
on-air staffers. As the week moved forward she’d work to give the newsroom
focus and priorities. Viewers flocked to the best weather coverage and
fast-paced news, so whenever possible, it was good practice to label things
“breaking news.” It got attention, and that’s what the station needed.

Macy had her work cut out for her which, fortunately, pushed
her dirty thoughts about Wes Thompson to the back burner. If she could keep
that burner on low, maybe she could make some progress at WLUV.

When she finally flipped her laptop shut, it was 11:45 p.m.
The staff from the late news got out of the place seconds after they were off
the air. The only one left in the bullpen was an overnight producer. She had
talked to him for a few minutes and didn’t envy the kid. Her first on-air job
was in a station just like this, chasing down scanner traffic in the middle of
the night with her photographer.

“Whatever you do, lead with some overnight breaking news,
and make sure you have your anchors say things like, ‘this just in,’ ‘new from
overnight,’ and ‘while you were sleeping.’ I’ll give you a gold star every time
I hear it.”

“This just in: I got it, Miss Green,” the young producer
smirked as he downed a Mountain Dew, one of the four food groups of overnight
producers everywhere.

“Call me Macy.” Gathering her jacket and bag, she remembered
Wes had asked her to stop up before she left the station. She walked up to the
second floor and sure enough there he was, talking on the phone, probably to
someone on the West Coast. He smiled and signed off when he saw her.

“Convenient to do my California calls at night.” Wes stood
up and grabbed his own coat, “How was your first day?”

“You’ve got a few great people here and a lot of bad habits.
I just need to get them working together and focused.” Macy explained.

“So we’re not a lost cause here at WLUV?” Wes smiled at her
again and she felt a flutter in her chest, not good for the “Ignore Mr.
Gorgeous” plan.

“No, you’re not. It’s late though, I’m going to head out.”

“Hold up. I want to make sure you get to your car. No
argument. If there’s a bad guy out there, those heels will put you at a
disadvantage.” Wes used the comment as an excuse to run his eyes over her legs.
Macy worried suddenly that the slit of her skirt was revealing too much-stockinged
leg above the knee. Why didn’t she wear slacks today?
            “I’m pretty agile in these babies.”
Why
had she just egged
him on? Was she actually flirting? Maybe it was fatigue. Maybe it was that Wes
was gorgeous and being in close proximity to him was dangerous for any woman.

She set her bag down and started to put on her coat. Wes was
behind her immediately, helping her slide her arms into the sleeves. Why was
that allowed in polite society when it seemed such an intimate gesture? Maybe
it had never seemed like an intimate gesture until it meant that Wes Thompson
was that close to her.

Her mind was racing with thoughts like these when her scarf
fell from the collar of the coat and floated to the floor in front of her.
Before she could grab it, Wes bent down and picked it up. Instead of handing it
to her directly, he lifted it to his nose and inhaled. Macy watched him and
felt the heat building in her core. He took a step closer and draped the scarf
around her neck. She stood frozen for a moment. Even though she’d fought it
throughout the day, she’d imagined the heat of his hands, and the looks he’d
given her. This gesture with the scarf, or the effect it would have on her,
made it clear that Wes Thompson was thinking the same was she was. She was on
thin ice already with this man. He was audacious, and she was out of practice
resisting audacious.

“Really, can we just head down?” She decided to go with
tough. Yes, tough –and ice cold. It was her only option. She’d turn him off
with sarcasm. That usually worked.

“Yes, let’s head down.” Suddenly words like head and down
seemed poorly chosen. Macy was going to have to put some distance between
herself and the station owner, and quickly. She tried walking briskly as they
walked out of the building, but Wes’s strides matched hers.

They arrived at her rental car in the front of the station,
“Thank you. I can take it from here.” Macy clicked the locks of the rental.

“Did you eat anything today?” Wes asked her, the
Michigan-cold air had his breath coming out in puffs as he spoke.

“Uh, not that I can remember,” Macy thought for a moment. “I
had some coffee. That’s a food group right?”

“Not the last time I checked.” The two of them stood outside
her car in the darkened parking lot. She knew she should hop in the car and
drive away as fast as possible but against her better judgment, she lingered.