Stay Tuned (26 page)

“Great job.” I heard someone say.

The praise was followed by a chorus of other voices. “Wonderful story.”

“Strong live shot.”

“Loved it.”

Over the noise of everyone talking at once in the newsroom, the telephones rang louder. Drew clapped his hands to get attention.

“People!” he yelled. “Do not send every single call to my office. If it’s someone from the national media, NBC, ABC, or the mayor’s office, I will take it. Otherwise, do your best to answer the person’s questions and if need be, take a message. I will call them back.”

Drew rubbed his forehead and motioned for me to come into his office. He shut the door behind me. The deafening noise from the newsroom was instantly cut in half.

“Whew!” he said, and flopped down into his chair. “What a day! So, your mother? Is she really all right?”

I sank into the chair across from Drew’s desk. “She’s lucky. They got her out just before the explosion. Once they release her from the hospital, Mother’s going to stay at my house for right now.”

My thoughts immediately jerked back to Sharice. And Darius.
What would happen to her little boy?

Drew tapped his fingers on his desk. “Helluva day. We all set for the six?”

“I think so. I’ll go talk to Rick. We have quite a few fresh sound bites, comments from family members and neighbors. Our contact at the fire department is supposed to check in if he gets any new information. One of reporters will go back for the six o’clock live shot, or I can do it.”

Drew surveyed my disheveled outfit.

“I know,” I twisted my mouth. “Should’ve changed into something more presentable.”

He brightened. “Not at all. They loved it. You connected with viewers. The no makeup, jeans-on approach was brilliant. It made you real. Like the news story was more important than anything else. That’s the ‘something special’ I’ve been looking for.”

I glowed from the praise. “Drew, I used to think this job was just reading off the teleprompter. That it was all fluff. But, it’s so much more—it can be, anyway. I think it’s about relating to viewers because you care about the stories and the people whose lives are wrapped up in crisis. It’s about stories like today. Being out there in the community.”

Drew absorbed my explanation. “You’re right, Mel. You’ve finally got it.”

“Thanks,” I said softly.

The cell phone on Drew’s desk buzzed. He grabbed it. “Hello? Yes? Yes.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I think we can handle that. Let me check with our engineer and I’ll give you a call back. Give me your extension and the satellite coordinates?” Drew jotted down some numbers on a piece of paper. “All right, I’ll get back to you in a bit.” Drew hung up and stared at the phone. “Well, I’ll be damned!”

“Who was that?”

“Fox News. They want a satellite feed of video of your story.” Drew snatched up the scrap of paper he’d scribbled on and stood up. “CNN already called. They’re sending someone down from Atlanta to do cut-ins.”

My eyes widened.

“Don’t look so surprised.” Drew winked at me. “You did good work. And your mother was in there. That puts a personal twist on the story. They may want a comment from you. Think about it.” He paused. “Anyway, they want all of the video. And they want it now, of course.”

I leaned back in the chair and stretched my arms over my head. “Shoot. And after we finish, how about a month-long vacation in Hawaii?”

“Fat chance, Moore.” Drew snapped his fingers. “Hey, wasn’t there something you wanted to ask me? Didn’t we have a meeting at noon? What did you need?”

I sat up straight. “Do you have a sec?”

Drew shrugged his shoulders. “Not really, but there’s no time like the present. No telling what’ll happen in five minutes. The way this day is going, a hurricane might blow through Macon and wipe out the studio.”

I crossed my arms, trying to think of how best to explain.

Just say it, Melissa.

“I need to know if you’ve made a decision.”

Drew shot me a puzzled look.

“About who’s going to anchor with Rick?”

“If that’s what you’re talking about, Melissa, you’ve got it.” He grinned and rubbed his hands together like he was sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner. “Full-time. Six and ten news, of course. I’ll even find you a producer,” he added. “It’ll free you and Rick up to do more promotional events. And I’ll give you all of five minutes to think about it.”

I was stunned. And elated.

It’s happening. It’s finally happening.

“By the way, Macon PD found Alyssa.”

“Really?”

“I put out some feelers, talked to some friends in the business. They connected with some cops in Montana, of all places. She and Tim are getting married, doing a six and ten gig up in Bozeman.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Serious as a heart attack.” Drew started to walk away.

“Drew—” I wanted to ask if he knew what might happen to Darius. If he didn’t know, who would?

“Melissa, look.” Drew waved the piece of paper with Fox News’s number in front of my face. “I’ve got to run and take care of this. You take your time deciding. I
do
want you to anchor. Just give me your answer as soon as possible. Like tomorrow.”

He put his hand on the door to leave. “Melissa, if it matters, I
believe
you can do it.” Drew opened the door. “You just have to believe in yourself, too.”

Chris was waiting in the foyer when I walked through the front door of the house at close to midnight.

“A million-two!” he said.

I set down my bag and put my hands on my hips. “Are you kidding? For real?”

Chris grinned and folded his arms across his chest. “I started to tell you this morning. Macon Financial. They’re going to pay me one-point-two million to settle. One-point-two million not to sue them for sexual harassment and to keep me from splashing the hedge fund story all over the media.” Chris shook his head. “Plus they fired Tyler. They let her go today! What do you think about that?”

“Oh, my. Wow.” My knees wobbled. I braced myself on the wall with one hand. “And so what are you going to do?”

“Take the money. Be done with it.” Chris replied. “That’s what the lawyer says. We’d be crazy not to do it. I don’t want to go to court and fight some legal battle.”

“Are you thinking about going out on your own?” It was perfect timing for Chris. My palms got sweaty. I needed to talk to him about Darius.

“What is it?” He tugged on my arm. “What’s wrong?”

I tried to focus on my shoe. A speck on the floor. Anything but Chris.

Chris’s hand tugged my arm. “Come here. Sit down. I need to show you something.”

Too tired to protest, I let myself be led into the living room, then to the loveseat. Chris turned to the television. He took a white case from the top of the entertainment center and slipped out a disk, then inserted it into the DVD player.

The DVD. Of Chris and Tyler.

I started shaking my head. “No, Chris. I don’t want to watch that.”

He turned around, red-faced and flustered. “I-I don’t want you to either. This isn’t easy for me. But what I’ve decided, especially after seeing your reaction a few minutes ago, is that you’ll never believe me if you don’t see the DVD for yourself.”

“I thought you didn’t have it,” I demanded.

Chris glanced at the disk. “I told you the original was delivered to the CEO of the company. I didn’t say anything about a copy.”

My hands gripped the edge of the loveseat. I shut my eyes. So many secrets and half-truths. And I had my own guilty conscience.

“I’m playing it,” he said finally. “You can watch it or not.” Chris pressed the button and stepped away from the television set.

A boardroom table came into focus, with Chris at the far end. He had stacks of paper around him, folders to one side. Pencils and pens lined up in front of him. A tall, thin centerpiece sat in the middle of the table, filled with roses and lilies.

A door opened and closed. Chris looked up. His face showed no expression.

“Well, hello, sugar,” said a woman, still off-camera. Her voice was soft and slow, with a deep Southern accent. “How’s everythin’ going here? Need some help?”

Tiny goose bumps popped out on my arms. I wanted to tear my eyes away. I couldn’t.

 
Chris’s eyes widened. He looked down at his work. “Um, not really, Tyler. Thanks anyway.”

The woman laughed. It was a satisfied sound. She was in control, it said.

A slender woman with long, straight brunette hair and a snug red suit appeared in the corner of the frame. Taking one step, then another, she walked down the side of the table, letting the fingertips of one hand trail over the top of each chair.

I sucked in a breath. Tyler was the same woman in the flame-red dress from the Gala!

Chris sat still, trying to ignore her approach. He coughed, re-arranged his papers, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Darlin’, we need to talk about this misunderstanding we’ve had. I told you I’d take care of everything. I’ll make sure no one knows…”

Tyler stopped halfway to Chris. She turned to face the table, her full lips pursed. “I think you just need to forget about it and trust me. Stop being upset. If you can. Chris…I’ve got some special compensation for you…”

She looked hard, concentrating on the centerpiece of white roses and lilies. When Chris glanced up, Tyler bent forward and put one hand on the table. She closed her eyes, cupped a rose with her fingers, and leaned closer to the blossom. Her skirt inched up. And inched up.

Tyler sighed and opened her eyes. “Aren’t they lovely?” She stood up and straightened her skirt, smoothing it down over her hips. “Their scent is so romantic, so sweet. Lush.”

The blood coursing through my veins started to pound. Chris was obviously uncomfortable. And unsure. Right where she wanted him.

True to Chris’s words, Tyler started unbuttoning the top of her suit. “It’s so hot in here, isn’t it darlin’?” She slid out of her jacket and dropped it to the floor. Underneath, the camisole she wore was transparent and lacy. No bra. The curve of her breast was clearly outlined.

Chris turned bright red from scalp to tie. Tyler kicked off her shoes, sauntered over to Chris, and put both hands on his chest. She nuzzled up against him. That explained the smudge on his shirt that night.

Tyler made her way up to his neck, then moved in front of Chris’s face.

“No!” I heard him say.

Tyler just laughed. “Go ahead, pretend you don’t want me. It’s more fun.” With a gentle pull, Tyler slid the camisole off and tossed it to the corner.

Her bronzed skin was perfect. “I want you now. Right here. On the boardroom table. Now, be a good boy…”

Suddenly, Chris’s hands gripped each shoulder, holding her back.

“Just relax, darlin’,” Tyler cooed.

Chris took one hand and yanked her forearm. The force made Tyler slide off his lap. I could see his face then. He was furious. His eyes glinted with anger and his teeth were clenched. “I said no.”

Tyler scrambled to her feet, blocking my view of Chris. She faced him, her bare shoulders heaving. “How dare you reject me? Do you have any idea how much power I have in this company? With our clients? I can make or break your career, Chris Moore.”

Chris mumbled something I couldn’t hear.

Tyler threw her head back and hooted. “You love your wife. How sweet.” She pulled out a boardroom chair and leaned her elbows on the back of it. Tyler got quiet.

“I’ll tell you what. You have sex with me right now, forget you ever heard anything about the hedge fund, and I’ll send you back to your little sweet wife. And you’ll still have your job. No problem.”

“No.” I heard Chris shoot back.

“Fine! I’ll fire you. Then I’ll smear your reputation. You’ll never work a day in this business again.” Tyler pushed the chair closer to him.

I was nauseous. My stomach churned at her words. I didn’t know how Chris could remain as calm as he did.

“Go ahead,” Chris said firmly. “Do what you have to.”

Tyler’s body stiffened. “What? You can’t be serious,” she sneered. “You have to want me. Look at me,” she exclaimed and held her arms out. “I’m perfect.”

Chris didn’t respond.

Tyler tossed her hair defiantly. “Stephen Cummings from Atlanta. Our precious new client? He’s not stupid. He wanted me, too. Made it clear from the beginning.” Tyler laughed. “I sealed that deal. And it didn’t have anything to do with signing a piece of paper.”

I desperately wished I could see my husband’s face.

There was a long pause. Finally, a murmur from Chris. Tyler’s arms dropped to her sides. “What did you say?” she shrieked.

“I’m not attracted to you,” Chris said, louder this time. “And I can’t just forget about the hedge fund.”

Relief flooded over me.

Tyler didn’t move. She was stunned.

I glanced over at Chris. He was stone-faced, watching the clip. Before I could turn back to watch, I heard Tyler cry out.

“You’ll be sorry,” she screamed. The monitor showed Tyler, within inches of Chris, arms flailing wildly. She slapped, punched, and kicked. Chris shielded his face from her blows.

Then, all at once, Tyler stopped. Maybe she knew she was beaten. I watched her gather her clothes. She slipped the camisole over her head, smoothed her hair, and tugged on the jacket. Tyler walked out without another word.

Chris clicked off the DVD.

We both stared at the blank screen. My heartbeat slowed to a steady crawl.

“It took an enormous amount of courage to show me that,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. That it had to come to this.”

Chris tilted his head. “I was afraid if I didn’t, I would lose you for sure. I couldn’t let that happen. That’s the truth, Melissa.” He inhaled deeply.

“I need to be honest about some things, too.” I clasped my hands together and leaned toward him. “They’re important.”

Chris frowned. “Okay. Is it about the station?”

“Kind of,” I said. “Drew offered me the anchor job. It’s mine if I want it. He said to let him know as soon as I could.”

Confused, Chris sat back. “Mel, you should go for it…but what’s the catch?”

“There’s a little boy who needs our help.” I’d found an article about Sharice and Darius in the newspaper. I took it out of my bag and handed it to Chris. His photo was front and center.

“This is Darius,” I explained. “Do you remember Sharice? Mother’s nurse?”

“Of course.” Chris drew in a deep breath. “She died in the fire.”

“Yes. Well, Darius, this little boy in the photo, is her son.”

His puzzled expression turned to one of surprise.

“He’s very ill. And very alone.”