WLUV Box Set: Ignited, Consumed, Burned (4 page)

“Tomorrow we’ll have dinner. We can talk about your
impressions and that way I can be sure you eat at least one meal.” Macy watched
the corners of Wes’s mouth turn up. This wasn’t the high voltage smile that
nearly knocked her over; this grin, oh it was something else. It had her
leaning into him instead of running away, a dangerous state of affairs.

“As long as it’s a working dinner, sure.” Macy decided to
hold the line right there. She found herself looking at Wes’ mouth, jaw, and chest.
Eyes, stick to the eyes, she thought. He looked right back. Dammit, his eyes
were hypnotizing, Paul Newman blue.
Shit
.

“Business dinner it is. Be careful driving back to the
hotel.” He held open her car door and Macy found herself in a tight triangle of
door, car, and Wes. She slid into the car awkwardly and he shut it for her.

She needed to get out of there fast and figure out how to
handle herself with this guy. As she drove, she replayed every double meaning
he threw her way and was so distracted by her thoughts of him that she almost
missed the turn to her hotel.

The Ampark Grand Hotel in Downtown Grand City was where she
would be living for the next six weeks. American News Consulting and Research
usually put her up in the nicest hotel within easy driving distance to the
television station. The Ampark had a classic feel to it and she was surprised
to find such a nice place in the smallish city. She checked in and given a key.

“Welcome ma’am, your room is all set. It looks like you’ll
be with us for a while?” The desk clerk typed away at his keyboard.

“Yes. Six weeks or so,” Macy signed the check-in sheet he had
placed on the marble counter.

It had been a long day, and looking at her garment bag,
laptop case, and oversized suitcase, she sighed audibly in spite of herself.

“Don’t worry,” the clerk smiled, “The bellman will help you
with your luggage.”

She’d hardly said thank you before a young man in hotel
uniform appeared and asked to take her things.  “Right this way, ma’am.”

She took the elevator to the 24
^th
of 25 floors
and followed him to her suite. It was exquisite. Instead of a mini-fridge and
blow dryer she had a king-sized bed, a bathroom bigger than her entire New York
apartment, a sitting room, and a little counter wet bar. She also had a
spectacular view of Grand City; at night it was quiet lovely. ANCR had upgraded
her to a Tower Suite as a little bonus for the success she’d had on her last
two assignments. She’d rather have the cash, but the suite wasn’t bad. Not bad
at all.

Macy ran a hand over the Egyptian cotton sheets, thinking it
was a shame they wouldn’t be enjoyed by more than just one workaholic
consultant. A flash of Wes Thompson’s muscular shoulders caused her to blush
even though she was alone in her room. She tried to shake off the image and
quickly got ready for bed. It was already past midnight, but she set the alarm
for 6 a.m. She’d be rolling up her sleeves at WLUV tomorrow. Sleeves,
forearms…Wes’ forearms… the thoughts that invaded her dreams were of the tall,
dark and handsome variety.

Wes got to work early. He’d always prided himself on a
workout before the sun came up; it kept him refreshed and focused so he could
go all day with no distractions. The distraction of Macy Green was one he’d
decided to give into, however. Her arrival in the boondocks made the boondocks
seem a lot more interesting. He wondered what her story was. Why was a woman
like her traveling to small television markets, fixing newbies, and smoothing
rough edges when she so clearly should be on billboards herself?

He put a call into David Rayne of ANCR, Macy’s boss, to see
if he could get more information.

“So you like our Macy, do you?” David and Wes had met
socially over the years, but this was the first time he’d used David’s
consulting services. Wes was annoyed at David’s tone already. Did this guy have
ideas about his Macy?

“Yes, she seems efficient and observant. I hear she’s
already made two changes that make a lot of sense,” Wes leaned forward in his
chair.

“Good, good. So what can I do for you this morning?” said
David.

“Without prying, I’m just trying to get a sense of her
background and how you recruited her. I mean, her resume is impressive, and I
know you only employ top-notch talent, but Macy still seems camera-ready. I’m
just wondering why she left her network job.”

“Her reasons? Well, she hasn’t said much to me. I guess she
was connected to some celebrity couple, but other than what’s available on the
Internet, I don’t really know. She’s pretty buttoned up. I’m just glad ANCR was
able to lure her in. She’s done some great work for our stations. As far as the
motivations she has,” David laughed into the phone, “Looks like you’ll have to
use your charms to get her to open up. She hasn’t, uh, opened up, to anyone
around this office, and believe me, we’ve all tried. She’s a cold fish.”

Wes wanted to punch the man through the phone line at the
thought of David or anyone else trying to get close to Macy. That was his job.
It had become the only job he could concentrate on.

“Well, thank you for sending such a superstar to our frozen
tundra. It was good talking to you.” Wes set the phone down. He hadn’t gotten
much further along in discovering what made the consultant tick.

He looked out his office window at the perfect time to see
Macy’s car pull into the visitor lot. He’d pictured her last night, rather
vividly, in her hotel. But seeing the real Macy was better. Somehow she was
more spectacular than he remembered from yesterday. Her russet hair against her
red coat looked more like a photo from
Vogue
than a woman headed to
work. He watched her stretch her leg out of the car. As she moved, he caught a
glimpse of the top of her stocking. Her legs were going to drive him crazy. He’d
noticed her calves yesterday; today, her delicate ankles caught his eye as she
slid out into the frigid air. And she was wearing stockings. Sweet Jesus.

Her stride was long and confident. Despite the gorgeous
heels she wore she walked with purpose. Before long she disappeared into the
building. He could fantasize about this woman all day, but wishing for things
was not Wes’s style. Getting them was.

Wes would spend the morning checking in with his top
advertisers. Perhaps a little selling and schmoozing could suppress the rampant
thoughts he was having about running his fingers along the top of that garter
where skin met stocking...

**

Pat Walters was an asshole, a lazy, hungover, asshole. Macy
didn’t need more than five minutes of the morning news meeting to diagnose the
biggest detriment to WLUV’s success. Walters was in his late fifties, not quite
old enough to retire, but too bitter to help nurture the best performance from
his staff.

He’d shot down every idea from his reporters and producers
for what should be in the newscasts. Sure, not all of the ideas were great, but
the snarky disdain was unmistakable as each reporter brought what they could to
the table.

“Miss Green. Macy? See what we’re dealing with here? No good
solid leads. Every single day these people bring tired ideas, if any, to the
table.” He was trying to connect with her, but Macy wasn’t having it.

Macy decided to focus on Shelby who nearly cried, but
didn’t, when her animal-shelter-running–out-of-food idea was met with, “Oh,
puppies. Your idea is puppies,” by the news director.

All the reporters and producers were sitting at the
conference table with their coffee getting cold and their ideas shot through
the eye by their boss. Macy walked over to the white board that ran behind the
table, “May I?”

She yanked the cap off the marker and stretched to the top
of the board to write a few keywords:

BREAKING, URGENT, EMOTION, IMPACT.

“These words are going to stay up here and when you go
looking for your stories and make your suggestions, run them through these
filters.” She pointed at the words with the marker, “Breaking news. Without
question, it’s going to lead. Everything we do is
urgent.
It’s important
that we get these stories to our viewers, and if we’re bored they’ll be bored.
Emotion. Video of people sitting in a meeting? Not emotional. I never want to
see that on the air here again. And impact. If that meeting determines whether
or not they’ll raise taxes let’s get out of the meeting and find some outrage
from taxpayers, what’s the impact?”

She set the marker down. “And you have a live truck. You
will use it in every newscast.”

Gordon Chancelor, the bloated former anchor who prepared the
city council story the day before, piped up at the thought of going live for
the sake of live. It offended his inscrutable news sensibilities. “That’s
ridiculous. Standing in front of a building, just because you can? Is that the
ANCR research talking?” If Shelby was at the beginning of her news career, this
overfed, over-quaffed former anchor was at the end of his.

Macy was not one to back down. “It’s what you’re doing. I’m
trying to get you more live equipment—more equipment, period. But if you don’t
use what you’ve already got, it’s going to be hard. Live shot, every show. Period.”

“I’m going to leave these up on the whiteboard as a
reminder,” she continued, but Gordon’s challenge had emboldened news director
Pat Walters.

“Quite simplistic, don’t you think, Miss Green?” Walters was
turning his disdain towards her. But she wasn’t some college co-ed desperate
for a job in television. She would not be talked down to and refused to be
intimidated. However, it was her first day in the newsroom morning meeting so
she chose to be polite. For now.

“Sometimes the simple ideas are the best. Now, about the
ideas. Let’s get some lead stories out of this. Shelby, I happen to like your
animal shelter food idea.” Macy saw little Shelby Virtue sit up a bit
straighter in her chair.

“How do plan to tell that story?” The question was inviting;
non-confrontational.

“I will interview the shelter director first.” Shelby had a
high-pitched, sorority girl voice that needed to be fixed, but the story had
cute puppies, call to action from the community and, well, cute puppies.

“Here’s what I want. You get two sentences with the
director. That’s it. The rest is all adorable animals, a stand-up by you, then
get out. Also, make him promise to only talk to you until tomorrow. See if this
can be WLUV’s story. Exclusive. This isn’t a lead, but it’s good for some
emotion. Bernie, can she have a morning photog?”

“Yep. You can have Gary for one hour of shooting and one
hour of editing.” Bernie seemed to relish his new role. That was good.

“And if you’ll excuse me, I’m hearing something here.” The
police scanner wailed with a code three and Bernie, true to his word, wasn’t
going to miss a call.

“Does ‘code three’ mean lights and sirens here in Michigan,
too?” Macy asked.

“You got it, Green,” Bernie replied over his shoulder as he
walked to the scanners and grabbed the phone.

“Gordon, why don’t you follow this code three? Could be
something or it could be nothing. But if it’s something breaking, it’s a good
plan to have our Senior Reporter on it. Pat?”

“Oh, we want my opinion,” Pat’s sarcasm was impossible to
miss. She may be able to salvage the Gordon relationship, but the Walter
relationship? Screw it.

“Fine. Gordon, text Bernie when you find out what it is.”

Shelby leaned in and covered her mouth as she whispered, “He
doesn’t know how to text.”

Good,
grief, the man’s too set in his ways to
text?
 Without missing a beat, Macy added, “Better yet Gordon, just call in
and keep us up to speed. We’ll send you the live truck. In fact—” She put a
finger up and called out to Bernie across the newsroom, “Can you roll the truck
behind Gordon, just in case?”

Bernie nodded.

 “Okay, next up. Snow. How much are we getting?” Macy
addressed the question to the half dozen staffers remaining in the meeting.

Walters sneered and pointed to the white board, “Snow
doesn’t appear to be on your little list.”

“Really? I’d put under ‘breaking’ and ‘impact.’ If we get a
couple of inches of snow, it won’t be covered on TMZ or The Drudge or
Huffington Post, but our competitors will be on it. Local weather is one way
you can beat the big guys. If it snows, it goes. Got it?” She pointed at each
of them for emphasis, hoping to inspire them even if Walters was doing his best
to diminish her, “WLUV is the go-to station for weather, period. You’ve got
some pretty decent weather equipment; now let’s make sure Grand City knows it.
”

“That’s ridiculous! We will keep weather where it is—we
don’t need the egos of our meteorologists getting bigger than their paychecks.
So
,
Miss Green, if you don’t mind I’ll finish this morning meeting. I suggest you
stick to advising Shelby and maybe the anchors about what colors go best with
their eyes.”

Macy’s jaw clenched. She thought about dropping Wes
Thompson’s name here, but in the long run, it wouldn’t earn her the respect she
needed with this staff.  Besides, she could handle Walters herself.

She smiled at him, but her eyes stayed cold. Then she did
the worst thing you could do to a power-hungry old blowhard: She simply ignored
his jab and his attempt to belittle her.

Macy turned to the remaining reporters, “I’m still working
on everyone’s names and skill sets here…Keith, is it? You need to do a weather
story today. It’s going to lead the six. And Alva, I know you’ve always done a
spectacular job working the police beat. I’m leaning on you today. Take a
station vehicle and find something juicy at the cop shop; nothing else on your
plate all morning. Give Bernie a call after the noon and we’ll put you on the
board as TBA. I know you know how to find another lead for us.”

After the stories had been assigned, Macy turned her
attention to the producers.

She tried to infuse her entire presentation to them with the
same speed and urgency she was after in the newsroom. Energy crackled from her
own pores like an electric current. If her enthusiasm could spark just a few of
the people on this team, they’d have something.

“Producers, I’ll be meeting one-on-one with you all day. We
can talk about run-downs and teases. Let’s get going.” As they started to file
out, Macy decided to handle Pat Walters.

 “Mr. Walters, since you’re concerned about hair and
wardrobe, let me give you a tip. You’re an autumn and that jacket you’re
wearing is in the winter family. It does nothing for you.”

“Bitch.”

Aha, name-calling. Exactly where she wanted him to go. He’d
be done within two weeks.

“That will be the last color palette advice you’ll get from
me.”

A few of the reporters stood there staring, riveted by the
exchange. Macy met their eyes, “You are professional journalists; look it.” She
walked out of the meeting and found an empty desk in the bullpen. Walter
slammed his office door. Screw that guy. She’d rather work in the newsroom
anyway.

**

Wes had to stifle a cheer. He’d been listening to Macy
conduct the morning meeting, and, hovered unseen in the hall so as not to
undermine her. He almost stepped in when Walters insulted her. His inner
caveman wanted to punch the guy, but what he witnessed was a much better
outcome.

Macy was no joke. Her ideas, her air of authority, and then
her take down of Walters were all masterful. In the space of one night and one
morning meeting, she’d established credibility, authority, and if he assessed
it correctly, respect. She hadn’t come in and berated the staff but instead
she’d given credit where it was due and pushed some of the younger employees to
challenge themselves.                       

Women were easy for Wes. Not that he understood them, but
he’d never had difficulty getting them to do anything from fucking him to
working for him to running his errands. They were not a puzzle. Macy Green was
a different story altogether, though. She was going to be a challenge from her
head to her delectable toes.

Getting Macy into bed was on his mind from the moment she
walked into his office. It preoccupied his day to an almost maddening degree.
As for getting Macy into his life, getting her to trust him, he had some work
to do. He was surprised to realize that he wanted to.

Wes decided to stay out of her way the entire workday. He had
made up his mind to pursue her but after seeing her this morning he understood
that she was not to be interfered with on the job. It meant too much to her.

Besides, he had his own work to do with the station and he
continued to check in with his brothers and their assignments from their
father, the Happy Billionaire. The day passed fairly quickly. It was dark out
when he caught the scent of Chanel No.5 mingled with indefinable something
else, and then he heard her talking to Mrs. King. The exquisite Macy Green was
outside his office...