Stay Tuned

Chapter 43

I managed to ignore Rick the rest of the evening. My guilt mounted as high as Mount Everest, its mass resting on my back like a cast iron weight.

I was furious. I’d let myself walk into whatever Rick had planned. I had been beaten up by a crazy women, I was vulnerable, upset, and not in my right state of mind. The excuses sounded valid, but I should have known better. All of the warning signs were there.

Tonight had ruined our friendship. Maybe everything. My relationship with Chris was already rocky. And my job wasn’t a sure thing. Would I have to leave the station? I struggled to keep my legs from shaking as I walked to the studio.

On set, next to Rick, a thick mass seemed to grow in my throat, making every word an effort. When I did speak, my voice sounded foreign and stretched. Rick’s cologne made my stomach do flips. I could barely concentrate.

During the first commercial break, when I couldn’t get away from him, Rick begged for forgiveness.

“Don’t.” I said, not even looking in his direction. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“No,” Rick leaned an inch in my direction. “Not until you let me explain. You’ve got it all wrong.”

I locked my fingers under the desk and squeezed them hard to calm down. “This isn’t the time or the place,” I whispered. Surely, he knew that Joe and everyone else in the control room could hear us if the right switch was flipped.

Rick sat back in his chair and heaved a sigh. “You’re right.”

There wasn’t ever going to be a “right” time or place, though. Talking about it would validate that something happened.

I wanted to cry. Joe cued the last commercial before we went back on air. Thirty seconds.

So, what did I need to do?

Breathe and get through the newscast, first of all. Get a game plan together. Then, talk to Rick on my own terms, not here where the rest of the station employees could hear the gory details.

I took a deep breath and tried to smile. We dove into the newscast, taking turns reading stories.

Weather, then sports. Three minutes of commercials, one last story, and we were finished.

To my surprise, Rick was up and gone before the last credits rolled. Our cameraman watched with raised eyebrows. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders and a wave at me, he left me alone in the studio.

He was probably headed for the control room. Gosh. It seemed like ages since I’d been back there. I followed what I thought was a few steps behind.

“Hey, everybody,” I called out and walked in the door. I poked my head around the corner, searching for familiar faces.

Joe looked up from his stack of scripts, his expression blank. “Hey, stranger.”

The greeting hit me like a splash of icy cold water. Stranger. Okay, I could play along.

“Did you see where Rick ran off to?”

“Nope,” Joe answered. One word. Not good.

“How are things? Do you miss me?” I tried to tease and walked a little closer.

“Everything’s just fine,” Joe replied abruptly. He stood up and gathered his papers. “Was there anything wrong with the show?”

“N-not at all.” The words stumbled out as I tried to read his face. “I didn’t come back to talk about the newscast. Just to look for Rick. And to say hello. It’s been a while.”

Some of the other guys walked past with murmured greetings. Where was the backslapping and jokes? Gosh, what happened in the last few weeks?
 
The rest of the group shuffled out. Joe and I were the only ones left. The two of us, and a huge, awkward silence.

I thought hard for something else to say and came up empty. “So. How’s it going with you?”

Joe raised a bushy eyebrow, gave me a suspicious look, and glanced at the back door. If I didn’t know him better, I’d think he didn’t want to answer. Joe stared at the floor. Gosh, what was with everyone?

Did I have three heads all of a sudden? Or the plague?

“I said everything’s fine,” Joe answered reluctantly, shifting to grab his bag from the floor. “Look, Melissa, I gotta run.”

“Joe…” I grasped for a reason to keep him there. I tried again. “Um, don’t you have any pointers for me? Ways to improve?” I cocked my head and smiled my biggest smile. “Y’know, help me out here?”

Joe clutched at his jacket and looked down. After a moment, he raised his head. “Does it matter what I think? Because it sure doesn’t seem like it.”

I swallowed hard and blinked. “I’m sorry. What…?”

Joe shook his head.

Was I an outsider now? Like it or not, an imaginary dividing line existed between on-air “talent” and the technical staff. I had crossed it. Melissa Moore had gone from good old pal to stuck up gal. At least they thought so.

My heart started racing. “I’m not like them,” I pleaded. “I didn’t mean to ignore you. And the guys.”
Joe narrowed his eyes.

“I’ll do better,” I promised. “I won’t be another pain-in-the-neck princess.” I held up my hand and crossed my fingers. “Honest. I’ve just had a lot to deal with. Pressure here, stress at home. My mother, and you know how demanding Mother can be. The next thing I know, she’ll be calling me Shirley Temple or Miss Scarlett O’Hara.”

That made him chuckle.

Hands on my hips, I lowered my head. “Shoot. I’ve really been wrapped up in this newsroom drama, haven’t I? I’m sorry.”

Joe rubbed at his beard thoughtfully. Then he stopped and shook his head. “That’s all I wanted to hear. I thought we’d lost the real you.”

I exhaled and let my shoulders droop.

He winked solemnly. “Have to keep you honest.”

“Thanks,” I said softly.

Joe walked away, then paused and turned in the doorway. The look on his face was friendly again. He smiled, amused at our little exchange.

I raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“You’re doing just fine with the anchoring,” Joe nodded and winked. “Just keep being you.”