Stay Tuned (18 page)

Rachel Lewis, owner of the Macon City Day Spa, insisted I come in, bruised face and all.

“You’ll feel one hundred percent better, I promise!”

Fighting the urge to pick up a
Telegraph
and put it front of my face like a shield, I decided to just handle it head-on.

When I walked in, someone gasped. Women waiting for manicures perked up and glanced around the room. Young moms whispered behind Kindles and iPads.

“Melissa, come on back!” Rachel, dressed in a slim dark suit, came and saved me from having to turn around when she swept into the room and took me by the elbow.

The hallway we walked down was painted muted shades of gold and brown and the lighting was soft and warm. A tiny waterfall graced the end of the hallway. Asian-inspired music played softly in the background. We stopped in her office, where she scanned her elaborate date book for where and when she had penciled me in.

Rachel was tiny and oriental, with glossy hair cut in a short bob, and the most flawless complexion I had ever seen. With her perfect almond-shaped eyes, she looked twenty-five, was forty, and had the grace of a dancer and the smarts of Ivanka Trump.

Just divorced from her philandering husband, Rachel received sole ownership of the spa business, a huge settlement, their beach house on St. Simon’s Island, and the couple’s Mercedes M-Class. Though it was quite the battle, she seemed no worse for wear. If anything, Rachel was spunkier than ever.

“You are the talk of the town, sweetheart,” Rachel said in a low voice. “Quite the fervor Alyssa created, didn’t she? Everyone in here today has whispered something about the Gala.”

“Never a dull moment,” I agreed.

“Poor thing, you must be exhausted.” Rachel stroked my arm. “Your sweet husband was so good to call! How thoughtful is he?”

Just making up for lost time,
I hoped.

“Well, I’ll just say this. You look pretty good after handling that little witch.” Rachel pressed her lips together in irritation. “She came in here six months ago, bossed my staff around, and then had the nerve to ask for free services because she was a WSGA anchor. Can you imagine?”

“Unfortunately,” I said.

Rachel slapped her hands together, making her bracelets jingle against one another. “If you ever get like that, don’t worry. Candace and I will take you down a few notches.”

Somehow, I didn’t doubt it. “You know, I’m just filling in.” I lowered my voice. “Drew’s looking for someone to replace Alyssa.”

“He’s such a man.” Rachel retorted. “Honey, he’s got it good now. Why would he want something else?” She pointed at her forehead. “They can’t think with this, because all they think about is this.” Rachel made a graceful sweep of her below-the-waist area.

The thought of Drew having sex made me shudder. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Right!” Rachel snapped her fingers. “Swedish massage, seaweed body wrap, brown sugar scrub? Your wish is our command.” She steered me to a darkened room. “I’ll send Madeline right in. She’s the best. She’ll work out all of that stress.”

“Thank you.” I sighed gratefully.

“Now, slip out of those clothes and get ready to be pampered.” Rachel squeezed my hand.

“That’s great. I appreciate it so much.”

Rachel whisked away and closed the door. I shed everything except my panties, folded my clothes neatly on a nearby chair, and lay down on the warmed table. As I drew the blanket up to my shoulders, a bamboo fan floated soundlessly overhead, the blades mixing the air with the scent of essential oils.

The door opened softly. Madeline, a tall girl in her twenties came in, introduced herself, sat down, and asked me a few questions. After making some notes on a small clipboard, she immediately got to work on the tender places around my neck.

I luxuriated in the sensation of someone rubbing away my troubles. Almost instantly, I started to relax. She kneaded my shoulders and smoothed oil into my skin.

Just as I started to doze off, Madeline leaned over and whispered, “Don’t worry about a thing. We hired an off-duty Macon Police officer to stand guard at the front door.”

I smiled into the pillow.

Thanks Rachel.

“We wrap up tonight with a reminder to check news stands later this month for the next issue of
Georgia Now
magazine. Our own Rick Roberts will be the cover model.” I smiled over at Rick, who was trying not to laugh.

Rested and ready to get back to work, I went on air with a thick covering of Mac StudioFix and a positive attitude. In the right light, you could almost see the darkest purple parts of the bruise.

Drew promised me they’d stay away from too many close-up shots.

Video rolled from today’s magazine shoot. A photographer and reporter from
Georgia Now
had visited Rick at the station that afternoon. They trailed after him for hours, asking questions and snapping pictures.

“The article in
Georgia Now
will cover Rick Robert’s impressive journalism career, contain exclusive photos, and include three ‘top-secret’ facts about Rick’s hobbies and interests.”

Joe came back to the two-shot of Rick and me on set. We had another twenty seconds to wrap up the show. I decided to take a chance and tease Rick about the article.

“Can you give us a hint about the secret hobbies? I’m dying to know.” I leaned over and batted my eyelashes. “Gourmet cooking, wind-surfing, and basket-weaving?”

Rick tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Close.” He wasn’t giving up anything.

“Inventor, computer wizard, and science fiction writer?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Rick said firmly, shaking his head, clearly enjoying the extra attention.

“All right. Have it your way. I’ll wait along with everyone else if I have to!” I joked, then wrapped up the show. “That’s all for now. Thanks for joining us.”

Rick nodded and looked into the camera. “We’ll see you back here tonight for WSGA News at Ten.”

Our mics turned off and the station theme music played. I stacked my scripts and chatted with Rick. In the monitor to our right, Joe ran the station credits on the bottom of the screen.

“Thanks, folks. Good show tonight,” Joe spoke into our earpieces. “Meet you back here in a few hours.”

“Good show,” I echoed and grabbed the bottle of water at my feet, unplugged my IFB and laid my mic on the anchor desk.

Everything tonight went so well, I was actually floating on air—no video glitches, audio problems, and no script stumbles. Best of all, I’d actually had enough courage to inject some humor into the weather toss and about Rick’s feature article.

“Thanks for giving that extra push on the
Georgia Now
article,” Rick winked and jumped out of his chair. “You have to let that personality shine through more often.”

“Thanks!” I glowed from the compliment.

“You’re quite the trooper, coming in and keeping your chin up, after all that happened with Alyssa,” Rick gave me a sidelong glance.

“Make-up hides a lot of flaws. Besides, I didn’t have a chance to thank you in person for all you did. Coming to my rescue,” I said as I pushed my chair away from the desk and stood up.

“All in a day’s work, ma’am.” Rick said with a bow, and pretended to tip his hat. Rick had moved closer, his lips were inches from mine. He tucked an arm around my waist. His eyes didn’t leave my face. “I’d do anything to protect a fair maiden in distress.”

My pulse sped up and I put a hand on his chest and pushed him away. “Rick!” I chided.” This was dangerous territory. Like quicksand. One false step…

I gathered our scripts, trying to act casual, and tossed them in the recycling bin on our way out the door. Warning lights flashed in my head.
Say something about your husband.

“It did help that Chris arranged some time at the spa for me yesterday,” I said.

“That was thoughtful,” Rick agreed. “Your husband was a wreck after your little run-in with Alyssa. He showed up, right when I carried you out of the ladies’ room and called 9-1-1.”

“Oh really?” I raised an eyebrow.

Rick smirked. “Of course, I just slung you over one shoulder and—”

My lip quivered as I tried to suppress a giggle. “Stop it.”

“Of course, after I set you down in the lobby, you woke up and insisted you didn’t need to go to the emergency room. Three sentences later, you fell right back into your post-fight coma. Luckily, one of my doctor friends predicted you’d live at least another month.”

“Really? That’s all?”

“Actually, he said two months.”

I flexed my bicep and punched his arm playfully. “You are a liar. And a bad one. None of that’s true. I remember most of it.”

We walked into the hallway and up the winding staircase to the newsroom on the second floor. The building was unusually quiet. Often, at least two or three of the advertising sales managers lingered after the six o’clock show.

“Must be Chamber of Commerce meet-and-greet night across town,” he said. “This place is empty as a tomb.”

“Speaking of ghosts,” I looked at the winding staircase behind us. “I love the fact that this place used to be the old Macon Hotel. Kind of funny to think of the studio as the ballroom. Nearly one hundred years ago, couples danced where we work.”

The building was one of the more impressive structures in the city. Some of the old architecture remained. Elegant scrollwork and some sconces decorated the less-used halls. Even the marble floor of the studio was from back in the day.

“A lot of history here,” Rick agreed. “The original ceilings were preserved in most of the first floor, the wrought iron railings in part of the building have been restored.”

“I didn’t know you were such a history buff,” I jabbed Rick in the ribs.

“The leaded glass windows in the doorways are original.” He tipped his head toward the front of the building. “Shall I go on?”

“You’ll have to fill me in on the rest some other time.” I tapped Rick on the shoulder. “Thanks again. See you later.”

With a slight look of disappointment, Rick waved and turned the other direction as I pushed open the door to my dressing room and stepped through. The door swung shut behind me.

Chilly air blew from the air conditioning vent. I inhaled deeply, slipped off my jacket, and kicked my shoes to the corner. The long, rectangular mirror above the counter, surrounded by about a hundred bulbs, illuminated everything in the room. When I angled my face to get a better view of the bruise below my eye, I only spotted a little darkness. I had to admit my camouflage job was not bad.

Not bad at all.

Light reflected off the pendant Candace had given me. I ran my finger over the tiny word, followed the scrolls of the engraving.
Believe.

Despite the air conditioning, my body felt sticky from sitting under the lights tonight. The locket clung to my skin. I washed my hands, and on impulse, splashed cool water on my face. So what if I had to re-touch the bruise? I dabbed at the droplets with a paper towel and felt one hundred times better.

In bare feet, I padded back to the loveseat across from the mirror. It was old, but comfortable, just big enough for me to lie down, my feet propped up on the armrest. I eased back, sank into the cushions, and put my legs up. My head touched back and I closed my eyes. Just a little rest would do me a world of good.

My brain began to whirl with my unwritten to-do list. I needed to talk to Sharice and make sure Mother was fine. I needed to call Kelly and talk about summer break. And I needed to talk to Chris.

Knock! Knock!
I didn’t move. Maybe the person would go away.
Knock! Knock!

“Come in,” I called out, not moving.

The door cracked open. Rick took one awkward step inside. “Hey, I’ve never seen the inside of this room before.” He chuckled.

“This better be important,” I said sternly, and swung into a sitting position. “Did Drew call? Something come over the scanner?”

“No,” Rick answered. “Drew just left, and commented on the show, by the way. He said viewers have been calling in and complimenting you for being so spunky.”

“Really?”

“Showing up and doing the show after the ‘incident’ at the Gala,” Rick nodded. “I think you’ve won a group of admirers.”

“He’s not a teensy bit upset?” Drew was just back from being in Atlanta all day, and I hadn’t seen him long enough to say little more than, “Hello,” before the six o’clock show started.

“Well, I do know that he talked to the police,” Rick replied. “I think they’re going to stop by soon and take a statement. They wanted to come by today, but since Drew was out of the office, he put them off.”

“Great!” I exhaled and rubbed my temples. At the moment, I didn’t want to talk about Alyssa or the gala with anyone.

“Drew said he’d catch us up on everything tomorrow.”

“Okay. Sorry.” I yawned before I could stop and smothered it with my hand. “Rick, I meant to ask. At the gala, how’d you find me?”

Rick gave me a thoughtful look. “Well, I got worried. When you didn’t come right back to the table, I went searching. I heard all of this yelling and fussing coming from the ladies’ room. Alyssa ran out, and there you were.”

“There I was,” I echoed.
Chivalry isn’t dead after all.

Rick crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re worth saving, you know.”

I laughed. “Glad you think so.”

“I mean it. You’re a good person. Everything I hear around the station is that you’re wonderful. And you’re a professional, respected team player. That’s important. And now, I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“Shucks,” I ducked my head and covered my face. He really was a charmer.

Rick snapped his fingers. “What you need is some fresh air.”

I considered the idea. “Maybe I do,” I finally agreed. “A change of scenery might wake me up. I’m so tired all of a sudden.”

He held the door open. “Come on. Get your shoes on. I want to show you something.”