A Chance for Sunny Skies (19 page)

He was interrupted again as Mimi walked over with two steaming plates and set them in front of us. "Enjoy," she said before refilling our waters and scurrying off to other tables.

The lasagna had been baked in small porcelain baking dishes that now sat on plates, probably because they were so hot. Browned cheese made white and yellow patterns across the top. Both red and white sauces bubbled out of the sides and the whole thing smelled like garlic and heaven. And happiness.

Brian caught my expression and sighed. "Best lasagna I've ever had." He shook his head and picked up his fork. I did the same and cut into the soft pasta and cheese dish.

It looked to be just slightly cooler than lava, but I wanted to taste it so badly, I held the first forkful in front of me and blew at it shamelessly. I gave Brian a slightly embarrassed half-smile until I saw he started doing the same thing.

When it cooled enough to taste, holy-goodness, was it amazing. I don't think we talked for the first five minutes while we ate and swooned and laughed.

Conversation picked back up eventually and we talked about Benny, Brian's apartment, and where we had traveled (mine being pretty much no where, while Brian had been to Canada and Alaska). Then everything turned when Brian took his last bite of lasagna and asked me, "So what's your family like?"

My fork froze as it stabbed the last bite of my dish. I gulped. "Family?" It suddenly felt much too hot inside the restaurant, no longer perfectly warm and cozy. I leaned toward the window a bit and watched my date. He raised his eyebrows and waited for my answer. "Um." I scrunched my face in discomfort. "I'm an only child."

Brian's face fell. "Wow, I can't even imagine that."

"You have a lot of siblings?"

He nodded. "I'm one of five."

My heart raced and I couldn't seem to look at him anymore. I set my fork and the last lasagna bite down.

Laughter brought my gaze back up. Brian's laughter. "Man, there were so many times I wished I was an only child." He watched me, saw the terrible face I must've been making, and stopped smiling. "Crap, I'm sure you spent all of your time wishing you had siblings."

I nodded once, feeling a heat behind my eyelids, a sign that, lately, seemed to mean tears were on their way. I took a deep breath and looked out the window, even though it was mostly dark out now.

"I wished for a brother or a sister, yeah, but I think having my parents around at all would've been a good start. My dad left when my mom found out she was pregnant with me and I think she blamed me. She wasn't really involved while I was growing up."

It wasn't until after I said it that my fingers started to shake and my feet shuffled under the table. Wasn't I going to avoid talking about my family? There was no way that any dating magazine would've advised me to air all of my childhood baggage this early in our relationship. I peeked at Brian. His face looked broken and his head sank down and forward.

"Sunny, I'm sorry." He shook his head.

"No, it's fine. I shouldn't have said anything. It's not your problem."

Brian reached out and placed his hand over mine. "What if I want it to be?" His eyes locked onto me through his dark-rimmed glasses and his mouth pulled to one side. "Plus, my family's not perfect either. Most of my siblings and I get along now, but a few years ago, it was World War III. My parents got a divorce about ten years back and they put us all through hell, playing us against each other, trying to make us choose sides."

My chest felt lighter, but then I felt terrible about being relieved that his family was messed up, too. "Thanks," I said and took the last bite of my dinner.

Mimi came to take our plates and Brian paid. I was sad to leave Ruby's and go out into the rain, but I figured we'd be back. Plus, I had other things on my mind, end-of-the-date things. After our kiss the other night, it had been almost all I could think about whenever I saw him, but I had been the one to initiate that first kiss and I really wanted him pull me in tonight. I slipped into the car after he opened the door for me and licked my lips then checked my breath.

Brian got in, shaking the bigger drops of rain off his coat. He looked over at me and smiled in the darkness of the car, lit only slightly from the bright little restaurant in front of us.

"Thank you so much for dinner," I said. "It was... everything." I looked at him with what I hoped was my most smoldering stare.

Brian's eyes contracted slightly as I think he caught my sign. His mouth curved up slightly and he said, "You're welcome." He leaned toward me.

I know that I had already kissed him, technically, but that had been too quick and I wanted to savor this. All of it. Especially the fact that it was his idea this time.

He moved closer and put his hand on my cheek, touching it softly. I could smell his cologne and feel the heat coming off of him from being out in the cold rain. My eyes focused on his blue ones and my heart hammered in my chest, making me dizzy in a way I never wanted to stop. It felt right to close my eyes and I tipped my head as I kept moving toward him. Then our lips met. His were soft, wet, and warm and they pressed into me in a way that was so gentle.

Our first kiss had been all lips, but in this one, he used his tongue. At first, it caught me by surprise and I think I may have pulled back slightly. However, once I began to use mine a little, too, I couldn't believe what I had been missing. A tingle ran up my spine.

After a moment or two, he pulled back and watched me, pushing a curl back behind my ear. I bit my lip and focused on what I could see of him in darkness of the car, everything that the light could catch, his eyes behind his glasses and his bright teeth smiling back at me. I'd never made out with anyone before, so I didn't know what was supposed to happen after you stopped kissing. I was so happy, though, and I wanted him to know it, so I said, "Thank you" and grabbed his hand, giving it a quick squeeze.

Brian started chuckling. "Thank you, too." He shook his head, started the car, and drove me home. It was a quiet drive that didn't include much talking, but did include a lot of us looking over at each other and blushing, smiling, wanting.

When he walked me to my door, I pushed myself against him and pulled him into another kiss that lasted much longer than our first couple. I decided right then that I much preferred kissing standing up to sitting in a car and made a mental note to try lying down, next.

Reluctantly, we pulled away from each other, keeping our fingers intertwined until I had walked too far toward my apartment and he had walked too far toward the parking lot and we lost touch.

"Call you later?" he asked, watching me as I turned back to him, not ready to walk up my steps just yet.

I nodded. "You better."

"Darling, could you hand me that cord?" Burt asked as we set up for the second broadcast after lunch. Today marked my second full week in my position and we were becoming quite the well-oiled hydraulic-mounted-dolly-camera-machine. I passed the requested item over to him and then worked on getting the script loaded into the teleprompter.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket and I pulled it out. I bit my lip and smiled, typed a response, hit send, and put it back in my pocket. Brian and I had gotten into the habit of texting each other funny lines from some of our favorite movies or shows during work. We'd been out seven more times on dates consisting of going out to a few movies, staying in for a few movies with take out, going on a hike together, and even seeing a musical at the local theater (Brian was a pretty huge musical theater fan, I had found out). He'd even invited me to one of his archery tournaments this weekend.

The only bad news about the last few weeks was that I still hadn't figured out anything more about that damn dog collar sign. I had looked the distributer up on the internet, gone to the pound (maybe I was supposed to get Benny a friend), and had even gone back to the shop to have a conversation with the owner to see if anything sparked. Nothing did.

I sighed, thinking about it as I finished with the prompter and moved on to the last item on my checklist before we were ready for the broadcast. My eyes narrowed and I looked over at the clock on the wall. Jeannette was usually at work by then, but I had yet to see her that afternoon. Not that I minded (really, I didn't). Any matter of seconds or minutes I could get by without being verbally assaulted by her felt precious. However, this seemed late, even for her.

I scrunched up my nose and asked Burt, "You seen The Horror yet?" using one of our many names for her.

Burt frowned and stopped what he was doing. He exhaled, blowing it up into his face, his mustache fluttering slightly. "It did seem too pleasant around here for this time a day." He waved at me to keep working and disappeared into the back. A few minutes later, he returned with a flustered looking Spencer. I watched them gesture and shake their heads for a few moments before venturing over.

"Everything alright?" I asked.

Spencer blinked and looked at me like he forgot I worked there, again. He sighed and swiped at his sweaty forehead. "Not really."

Burt bobbed his head a little. "Jeannie isn't coming," he said and I inwardly applauded his ability to keep his happiness about it hidden in front of our stressed boss.

"Oh! Like, at all?"

Spencer shook his head and clenched his jaw, tight. "She quit. Half an hour ago. When
I
called her to ask why she wasn't here yet. She met some rich guy who proposed to her within the first hour of knowing her and she's moving to Texas to be with him." He threw his hands up and paced back and forth between us.

"Quit?" I was not as good at hiding my emotions as Burt (I also think the facial hair gave him an unfair advantage), so my lips pulled up into a smile. Until, that is, I looked at the clock again and realized we had a broadcast to put on in less than an hour. "Oh, shit." Spencer and Burt both stopped and looked at me. I grimaced in apology.

"Ken can't make it in since he's already on a plane down to California for the weekend to visit family." Spencer shook his head and sighed some more.

Burt stroked his white beard and squinted. "Would you mind if we continue with the light check, sir?" he asked. "I don't want to leave you to deal with this on your own, but I want to get that finished just in case."

Spencer waved us off and we turned back to the set, sharing a quick high-five once we were sure he couldn't see. Checking the lighting had become my favorite part of our set up. I took my hair out of the bun I had it in, shook it out (because Jeannette's blond hair was always so voluminously hair sprayed, we had to check how the light would hit big hair), and stood in front of the camera making fake weather gestures while Burt adjusted the overhead lights and the camera.

"There's a strong high-pressure system coming in for this weekend, so pack those coolers and get your family outside for a picnic during this sunny spring weekend." I always made up a forecast for the day based on a patchwork of phrases I'd picked up over the last few weeks. I used a less-bitchy version of Jeannette's reading-the-weather-voice, because I figured if the universe had this in mind for me, I'd better start practicing at some point.

I giggled and looked up to see what Burt thought. I had told him that I wanted to read the weather someday, so he'd been giving me pointers and helping me with my jargon. However, when I caught sight of the old man behind the camera, he was not alone. Spencer stood by his side, his eyebrows raised, looking at me like I was a lobster in a tank that he wanted to take home to boil for dinner.

I swallowed slowly and stepped away from the set, but Spencer put his hand out to stop me, raised his pointer finger, and leaned over to whisper something to Burt whose white eyebrows shot up, too.

"Come over here, Miss Skies." Spencer motioned me toward him. As I walked over, he smiled and asked, "Your name is Sunny Skies?" I nodded, knowing I'd told him that at least five times before, and wrung my hands in front of me. "I want you to read the weather, Sunny."

I grimaced and took a step back. My body wobbled unsteadily and the room spun and tipped. "Me? I -- This -" I stammered and shook my head.

"It'll just be for today." He assured me. "What do you think?" His eyes locked onto mine and he watched me closely.

Talk about a high-pressure system.

"This is our last broadcast before the weekend. We'll have Ken fill in next week while we interview for a new afternoon anchor." He ran his hand through his golden curls and leaned forward, waiting for my answer.

My whole body tingled and it became unbearably hot. "Just for today?" I asked and only (ONLY) because the universe had made it pretty clear that this was where I needed to head anyway.

Spencer nodded and smiled.

I bit my lip and took a deep breath to loosen the tightness spreading in my chest. "Uh, okay." An expensive microphone may not have been able to pick up my barely-there quiet response, but Spencer sure did.

He clapped his hands and let out a relieved "Whew!" Then he looked at me with those intense lobster-picking eyes. "We need to get you into hair and make-up right away," he said, ushering me forward to the-behind-the-set rooms. I looked over my shoulder to peek at Burt, who smiled and gave me an approving grandfather-figure nod.

The hair, makeup, and wardrobe people, used to dealing with the Hairsprayed Horribles and some of the anchors (who, let's be honest, probably weren't much better) eyed me like I was last year's knock off boots. I grimaced but turned it up into a smile, I hoped.

"You must be Sunny," a skinny man wearing all black said as if it was the-most-unfortunate, like "you must have cancer."

I nodded and tried to make my eyes look large and doe-like, needing desperately to pull off an I-need-you please-make-me-look-good eighties TV montage. And quick. He rolled his eyes and horse-stepped (you know, that super-dramatic model walk they always do on Project Runway) over to me, rubbing a tendril of my hair between his fingers.

"Virgin. Doable."

It took me a red-faced moment to realize that he had been referring to my hair, but he pushed me over to a barber's chair before I had the chance to protest. His mirrored station held his stylist license and I used my reflection to smile at his.

"Thank you for helping, Stephen." (I said it like Steee-van, because, well...)

He scoffed as he picked up a bottle of something and slathered a bunch of it into my hair. "It's Stephan," he said (like Stef-aaan). "Don't cut my a's short."

"Oh! Sorry. I -- didn't..." I tried to apologize, but he wasn't listening. To me, that is, because I'm pretty sure he was trying to listen to my hair by the way he was staring at it. I decided to shut up while he worked.

And boy did it look like work. Once he'd learned whatever he needed to from my locks, it became a frenzy. Elbows, fingers, and strands of my hair (ouch) were flying. He paced around me in a half circle while he scrunched, picked, and wrangled the mess that was my hair. I resigned to closing my eyes, mostly because all the tugging and twisting was making them water, but also because I really didn't want him to accidentally poke me in the eye with all of his frantic pointy-comb-movements. Suddenly, the pain stopped and I cracked my eyes open.

Just as a veritable geyser of hairspray came shooting toward me.

I blinked back the burning and pried my sticky eyelashes apart. Once the watering subsided, I got a good look at what Stephan had done. It was open-mouth-inducing witchcraft is what it was. My hair looked amazing, like I could be in a magazine. It was somehow redder than it had been before he started, but not in a clown way, in a shiny sexy way. My wild curls that were usually as much frizzy as they were wavy, were twisted into controlled segments. He had pinned back a few pieces that usually framed my face, which I felt made me look more professional.

"You -- this -- it's..."

He waved his hand and gave me an annoyed smile. "I know," he said and left.

I didn't even have time to look shocked, though, because another guy came over and started poking my face with tiny brushes and sponging my skin with foamy triangles. Makeup. I cringed and resigned to closing my eyes for safety once again. It's not like I didn't wear the stuff ever, it's just that normally it was a much gentler affair (yeesh).

I didn't know this guy's name, let alone what he looked like, because every time I tried to open my eyes, either powder or brush fibers tried to sneak their way into my eyeballs. I could feel things being brushed on my cheeks, my lips, and my eyelids. Then (and this one's new) things were being glued to my eyelids, too. I didn't dare move in case it might cause the glue to get stuck somewhere it shouldn't. There was some fanning in the direction of my face and a few seconds later he told me to open my eyes so mascara could be applied. After the wand retreated, my eyes widened as I took in my reflection.

"Holy shit!" I blurted out. My hand tried to fly to my mouth in surprise, but Mystery Makeup Guy smacked it down before it could get anywhere close to my lips, my face, or any of his work. I cringed, feeling a whole lot like a kindergartener, punished and put in the corner. I tipped my head and batted my eyelashes at my reflection. Well, maybe a really pretty kindergartener that looked like she wore about six pounds of makeup.

I smiled, my teeth looking quite white and pearly against the light pink gloss that they'd been adorned with. Mystery Makeup Guy gave me a warning look as if I shouldn't even look at myself too much.

Okay, pretty hair and makeup was great and all, but it seemed to come with a lot of rules. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was lick my lips, touch my face, run my fingers through my hair, everything I (apparently) wasn't allowed to do. I sat there while the guy packed up his cosmetics and shuffled away, tucking my hands under my thighs when the temptation worsened. Luckily, they didn't leave me alone for long. A small woman with straight black hair clicked over to me, this one actually talked.

"Come with me. We need to get you in wardrobe." She motioned for me to walk with her with a tip of her head.

I followed willingly, because even if this part was painful and restricting, too, my regular clothes were feeling much too dull and stupid now that the rest of me was so shiny.

"Wardrobe" turned out to be a rack of clothes in back of the stage where the dark-haired woman searched with a furrowed brow. Every once in a while she would look up and her eyes would travel down my body. Then her eyes returned to the rack. Gulp. Okay, I know that I was on the path to a better body image and that it turned out Rainy and I were actually quite close in size, but they had to be out of their mind if they thought I would fit anything Jeannette wore. She was tiny. Like, I think I weighed that much in sixth grade, tiny.

The woman pulled out a nice white blouse with small blue birds printed all over it and a gray pencil skirt. I sighed with relief as I checked the size and saw that they would probably do. She handed them to me and pointed me to a changing room.

The clothes fit really well, but I still had to force myself to open the door and step out of the safe dressing room.

Going out there meant reading the weather. Going out there meant being on camera. Going out there meant Old Sunny was never coming back. Heck, maybe this was the answer to the "why'd the universe choose me?" question, though. Maybe reading the weather today would change someone's life somewhere, do some good. Crazier things have happened.

I took a deep breath, smoothed my skirt, and walked away from my reflection toward whatever was going to happen next.

Spencer waited for me on set. "You'll do great, Sunny. Just the same way you were talking during the lighting check and follow the teleprompter exactly." We stopped walking and he held my gaze. "Exactly. Do you understand?"

I nodded and went to swallow only to find my mouth had completely dried up. He guided me over and set me in front of the camera looking back as he walked away, as if he thought I might run. I didn't. My face was hot, my chest tight, and my kneecaps were actually shaking (I thought that was made up and cartoony, but there it was, happening). I found Burt behind the camera and he gave me a thumbs up. At that moment, all I wanted was to be back behind the scenes again.