Stay Tuned

Chapter 14

Drew paced the room near the small semi-circle of chairs in his office. I slipped in last and grabbed the only open seat.
    
“We’re in the middle of a shit-storm, people,” Drew began, only to be interrupted by the phone. It jingled three times and then stopped. He frowned. “That’s about the hundredth call. Damn voicemail is overflowing. Does anyone have any migraine medicine?”
    
Drew massaged his temples; his teeth were bared like a dog’s. The right incisor had a tiny chip in the corner, making it look slightly vampire-ish. How appropriate. From what I could tell, my boss was out for blood.
    
Joe shook a few pills into his open palm. I wondered if he’d considered slipping Drew some anti-anxiety meds. On second thought, maybe everyone else at the station should take them instead. At least Drew might have some compliant, relaxed employees.
    
Joe coughed and shot me a funny look. Several people shifted uncomfortably.
    
“Our first full week of sweeps starts Monday.” Drew threw up his hands and let them fall to his sides. “And basically, we’re screwed.”
    
No one argued back. No one said a word.
    
Wait just a minute. This wasn’t like Drew. We needed decision-making, not wallowing in misery. WSGA was the number one station in the market. Stellar ratings and a solid reputation were the norm.
    
Desperation pounded in my chest.
    
I wanted to jump to my feet and grab Drew by the collar. Surely, there was a solution…an answer…something we could do…
    
Drew stopped walking. “I fired them both.” He spit out the words like he had tasted poison.
    
Someone gasped, and then murmurs of concern and approval swirled around the room.
    
They were gone. Just like that. I swallowed hard and nodded to myself. It was a start. A decision. Thank goodness Drew wasn’t completely paralyzed by all of the stress and mayhem.
    
Drew frowned heavily. “They actually resigned before I could fire them,” he admitted. “That’s the story the paper’s getting.”
    
Translation:
 
WSGA wasn’t the bad guy. And, Alyssa and Tim would keep a shred of dignity. Heck, they might even be able to get jobs in a back corner of Wyoming. But what was next for us? Where did that leave WSGA?
    
I gathered my courage and spoke up. “So, what happens Monday?”
    
Drew nodded in my direction, acknowledging the question. He folded his arms across his chest thoughtfully and stared at the plaques and awards displayed on the wall. Drew ran his eyes back and forth, up and down. Suddenly, he focused on one frame in particular.
    
My pulse quickened. I strained to see what he was reading, but couldn’t.
    
Then finally, Drew cleared his throat, turning slowly and deliberately to face us, the smallest smile playing on his mouth. “A few of you might remember this.” Drew pointed at a plaque. “And this and this.” He touched a few other frames. “All of these awards, thanks to the one and only Rick Roberts.”
    
No one moved. My brain raced. What was Drew doing? Would Rick even come back?
    
“I’ve already made the call. He’s considering it.”
    
Rick had been the station’s main anchor for twenty years. He’d caused major upheaval in Macon’s social circles when he left his wife to run off with a young, lithe Pilates instructor, the heiress to a major timber fortune in a far-flung part of Georgia. The last I’d heard, they were traveling the Greek Isles and paying huge lumps of alimony every month to the ex-Mrs. Roberts.
    
Enter Tim, along with a series of short-lived female co-anchors, then Alyssa.
    
By now, the Rick Roberts scandal had all but died down. Tonight’s mess would cement that. Rick would look like a golden boy compared to this little mess.
 
I held my breath and looked around the room. Everyone nodded. Slam-dunk.
    
“As for a co-anchor…” Drew hesitated.
    
“Why not let him handle it alone?” Joe said gruffly. “People can get used to that.”
    
I agreed. Don’t rush into anything. Safe was good.
    
Drew paused and replied evenly, his eyes unblinking, confidence re-charged. He shook his head vigorously. “No. Especially for the six. WSGA viewers are used to seeing two anchors. We need two anchors.”
    
He rested one hand on the nearest pile of resume DVDs. “Unfortunately, these are crap.” Drew scooped up the pile, held it over the garbage, and dropped them in. The cases clattered against the sides of the metal can. “So are these.” The rest of the DVDs suffered the same fate.
    
Drew walked to the front of his desk and looked straight in my direction, as if he needed to validate his point. “Melissa, Joe, you’ve seen most of these.”
    
We nodded. Hours of DVDs watched, not much to show for it. Drew gave most applicants a thirty-second look. Maybe twenty. Joe chuckled. No one was going to argue.
    
“It’ll take a month to find decent candidates. Maybe a few weeks if we get lucky.” Drew continued to outline his ideas as they flowed into his head. “If I snap up someone between jobs or a superstar fresh out of college, they won’t have to give a two-week notice. If I beg corporate, I could spring for a hotel while the new person finds a place to live.”
    
A new team, a fresh start, all in less than a month. Drew was known to move at the speed of light when money and ratings were concerned. I let my mind start to drift, thinking about the possibilities while Drew continued to talk.
    
“Melissa, I need you to anchor—at least until we can find a suitable replacement.”
    
Wait a minute. What was that? It was several more seconds until I realized what Drew had said. My breath caught in my throat like a bubble.
    
“I don’t think that’s—”
    
Drew cleared his throat. “Oh, and thanks for getting on set tonight. It was the right decision,” he continued gruffly. “You’re filling in. Two weeks, minimum.”
    
It took a second to find my voice. I forced my hands into my lap. “Maybe there’s another option we could explore?” I managed, my thoughts immediately jumping to our stable of young reporters. Surely, Drew hadn’t watched every single DVD in the garbage can.
    
Joe elbowed me to shut up. I flushed, bent my head, and played with my watch. It glinted and winked at me like it knew a secret. My head started to throb. My stomach churned.
    
“I don’t think so. You’ll be fine,” he continued. “Of course, you’ll continue to produce both shows, keep things rolling, right?” Drew asked but didn’t wait for a reply. He kept talking.
    
Of course, I would say yes. I always did. Enthusiastic employee, super-mom, and supportive spouse. Organized-living queen and steadfast friend. Throw in psychologist, accountant, and chef. Mix with slightly insane schedule. Subtract vacation time and tan lines.
    
Candace teased that my life was a cross between June Cleaver and Martha Stewart, sans prison time, of course. This, however, wasn’t juggling groceries and paying the bills.
    
In the midst of my silent worrying, everyone else swarmed for the door. I looked over at Drew. Was he finally finished talking?
    
“Melissa,” he called out. “A word?”
    
A few employees lingered by his desk. I shrugged and smiled as I walked over. Probably some detail or reminder about tomorrow’s show. In typical Drew fashion, he didn’t waste any time.
    
“Boss?”
    
Drew gave my outfit a thorough once-over. “Just so we’re clear. Don’t even think about wearing that on-air again.”