Scoop (19 page)

“How ’bout the fact that I just don’t like you?”

“You don’t even know me, so I’m not buying that either.”

A string of expletives tumbled out of Green’s mouth. Ray tried to sort through them to find exactly what was making the man so angry.

In the middle of two words Ray would never use—in public anyway—he heard
Gilda Braun.

“What did you say?” Ray asked, interrupting his rant.

Green stopped. “You want me to repeat all that?”

“Did you say ‘Gilda Braun’?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“What about her?”

Green’s eyes glared, and with a sneer he said, “Maybe you should ask her.”

Chad Arbus walked into the station, his unbuttoned trench coat breezing behind him due to his quick stride. He pulled off his gloves in order to put his hair back into place. He looked around, trying to spot Hugo. He could see that he wasn’t in his office.

Then he heard Hugo’s voice at the anchor’s desk. What was he doing there? It was hours before the broadcast, but the set was lit up like they were about to begin. Maybe there was breaking news.

And then he noticed a peculiar sight. That girl. What was her name? Hugo’s new assistant. He’d had a couple of run-ins with Religious Rhonda and was perfectly content staying a good twenty-five yards away from her. The first time he’d met her, she’d thanked him for “blessing her” with her job. “I’m not a priest,” he’d replied and then walked off.

Chad took a few steps forward for a better view but made sure he was out of her line of sight. He watched, half hidden behind a beam, as Hugo talked to her. What was he doing? Why was she sitting behind the anchor’s desk? He sighed and settled in, watching Hugo’s masterful technique. One of the most talented men Chad had ever known, Hugo had this amazing ability to pull out the best in people and remain calm under pressure. Hugo had created a wonderful sense of respect around the station. People called their bosses “Mr.” and “Mrs.” It was odd to hear people twice his age calling him Mr. Arbus, but the idea quickly grew on him. The rest of Hugo’s old-school ways went out the window, though, when Chad arrived. He hated the dress code and wasn’t about to wear a tie to work
every day. He even told the anchors to dress only from the waist up. Everyone thought that was pretty funny, the anchors sitting behind the desk in shorts and a suit jacket. He knew it bothered Hugo, who felt the way a person dressed set the tone for his or her professional attitude. That was a bunch of bunk. The professional attitude was set by whether or not Chad treated them like they were worth his time.

Chad was hired to shake up the station and bring in some new blood, and the only way to do that was to demand respect. So far that hadn’t been a problem. He’d ensured that no matter what his job was going to be done. And right now was no exception.

Chad removed his coat and draped it over his arm. He straightened his polo, and then, with as long a stride as his short legs would allow, he headed for Hugo. As soon as Hugo saw him, he stopped what he was doing and met him halfway.

“Mr. Arbus,” Hugo said. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

“I’ve had some important things to take care of.”

“Mr. Green is going to sue?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that.” He gestured toward Hugo’s assistant. “What’s going on here?”

“This is going to sound crazy…”

“What?”

“We can’t find Gilda. She’s nowhere. I even had someone go by her house, and she’s not there.”

“So what’s the big deal? We’ve got other options besides Gilda.”

“I’m afraid something bad has happened to her.”

“A bad case of Botox,” Chad growled. “Maybe she’s finally realized she’s not anchor material anymore.”

“As you know, our afternoon anchors have contract stipulations. And our other two options for anchors are…”

“Where? Everyone knows there’s no vacation right before or during sweeps week.”

“They’re not on vacation. They’re, um…”

“What?”

“Cosmetically unavailable.”

“Another Botox mishap?”

“No.”

Chad’s eyes shifted to the girl, who noticed him and stood to wave. “Hello, Mr. Arbus. Good to see you again.”

Chad looked at Hugo and pitched a thumb at her. “Why’s she kissing my butt?”

“She’s not, sir. Hayden’s just nice.”

Chad gave Hugo an unimpressed look. “So why is she behind the anchor’s desk next to Tate? With a microphone on her shirt?”

Hugo was gesturing, but no words were coming out.

“What?” Chad demanded. “Speak up.”

“I think she can do it.”

“Do what?”

“Anchor the ten o’clock.”

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“You have to see her. She’s got natural talent. She’s very calm and together.”

“Yeah, until the live broadcast. Then what?”

“Then…we’re going to have to have faith.”

“Faith?” Chad snorted. “This industry isn’t built on faith, Hugo. It’s built on cold, hard facts. Guarantees.”

“Bringing in a new, young, pretty anchor is going to get us some attention.”

Chad cut his eyes back to the girl. Strangely, she did have the right look. Cute but intelligent. Blonde hair that looked natural. With a little hair and makeup work, they could add a couple of years to her.

“She’s our only option?” Chad asked.

“I’m not one to gamble, sir. But tonight, I’m afraid we’re going to have to.”

Chad studied Hayden as she spoke with Tate. They were a good visual match and seemed at ease with one another. Though Hugo didn’t look anxious, he did look desperate, which wasn’t making Chad feel any better about the situation.

“It’s your call,” Chad finally said. “But it better be the right one.”

“Yes sir,” Hugo said.

Chad turned and walked toward his office. He trusted no one more than Hugo, but things could change.

“Why are we back here?” Beaker complained. “We have nothing, Ray. Do you realize that? I don’t have one minute of footage.”

“We’re following the story, Beaker,” Ray replied as they walked into the news station.

“The story’s going to be that you get fired if you don’t come up with something. And quick.”

“We’ll have something. I don’t know what, but we’ll have something.”

“What if we don’t?”

“We will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Ray turned to Beaker, who almost ran into him. “Because there’s a story here. Can’t you see that?”

“I see a really ticked-off guy who doesn’t want us anywhere near him.”

“But why? Why does he hate us so much?”

“The public loves the news but hates newspeople. Everybody knows that.”

“No, there’s something more.”

“And how do you plan on finding that ‘something more’?”

“Easy. I just have to talk to Gilda.”

Roarke slipped into Gilda’s dressing room, which was still dark. He didn’t turn on the light but could still see it, wrapped in red paper and neatly tied in a bow. His heart sank. He’d finally taken the next step. Inside the box was a note declaring his feelings, and at the end, he’d signed his name. It hardly looked like his signature because his hand had been shaking so badly.

Where was Gilda? With all that was at stake tonight, she should’ve been in two hours ago. His note had encouraged her, told her that he believed she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known and that she didn’t need to be “fixed.”

Suddenly the door to her dressing room opened, and Roarke spun around, feeling he’d been caught red-handed. But he did sign his name. Maybe he could just tell her himself. It was time she knew. His heart told him so. No more hiding behind little gifts and poems. This was the woman he loved, and she had to—

“Ray?” Roarke squeaked as the lights came on.

“What are you doing?” Ray asked.

“Nothing.”

“You look like you’re doing something.”

“I’m standing here.”

“Doing what?”

“Nothing. Just standing here.”

“In the dark. In Gilda’s dressing room.”

“So?” Roarke knew his face was flushing. He could feel his neck growing warm. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for Gilda. What else?”

“Well, as you can see, she’s not here.”

“But why are you here?” Ray glanced behind Roarke. By Ray’s expression, Roarke knew he had spotted the gift on her vanity. “No way…”

Roarke groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Gilda?” Ray nearly shouted. Roarke waved his hands and shushed him. “You’re in love with Gilda?”

“You don’t know her like I do,” Roarke said.

“We both know her exactly the same.”

“You don’t see what I see.”

Roarke could tell his friend was trying hard not to judge, nodding like he understood. But his eyes looked dazed and perplexed.

“I’m really in love with her, dude,” Roarke said. “I wrote her a note telling her.” He gestured toward the red box.

Ray stepped forward and put his hand on Roarke’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you. And Gilda would be lucky to have a man like you. How, um, how does she feel about you?”

“I don’t know yet. She apparently hasn’t read the note.”

“That’s what you were doing? Leaving a note?”

Roarke sighed. “I left the note hours ago. I figured she’d be in by now. But she’s not.”

“She’s not?”

“Weird, huh?”

Ray looked distressed. “I’ve got to talk to her.”

“Why?”

“I went to interview Petey Green today.”

“You what?”

“I know, I know.”

“Hugo told you specifically not to interview him, didn’t he?”

“Roarke, I’m telling you, something weird is going on here. Green mentioned Gilda, that I should ask Gilda why he hates us so much.”

“You know people, Ray. They prefer one station over another because of an anchors hairstyle or choice of tie.”

“I don’t know. This seems a little different.”

“Yeah, well, everything around here seems a little different if you ask me. Gilda’s not here and your lady’s in the anchor chair.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hugo’s been working with Hayden to fill in for Gilda if Gilda doesn’t show up or shows up but can’t frown.”

“Hayden? Why Hayden? She has no experience in front of a camera. What about Julia…or Michelle? Why couldn’t he use Ronny?”

“Rumor has it that Michelle can’t stay up past seven, Julia knocked out her two front teeth, and Ronny’s hair plugs are infected. All I know is that Hayden’s been out there practicing all afternoon. She even taped a promo.”

Ray shook his head. Roarke added, “You should probably ask her out soon.”

“Why?”

“Because, dude, she’s about to become famous.”

A
t four o’clock in the afternoon, Gilda still hadn’t shown, and Ray had nothing for his story except a few vague facts and a shot of Petey Green opening his front door. He felt such panic that he was actually drinking coffee. It tasted nasty, but he’d chewed off all his fingernails and he needed some other oral fixation. Sucking his thumb was out of the question.

He didn’t dare tell Hugo what he’d done. Not yet, anyway. He still had time, if he could just get some information from Gilda. And if not from Gilda, then maybe from Gilda’s computer.