Authors: Jason Luke
Chapter 28.
All of the station’s on-air announcers were gathered in Nancy’s office when I arrived the following morning. There were about a dozen people, which included the weekend teams. The only person missing was the guy from the breakfast show – and that was because he was on air until 10am.
Heads turned as I entered the office and silence descended on the gathering. They looked me over with curiosity and the kind of veiled resentment that greets any new person into such a group. I returned everyone’s gaze, my eyes steady. They were an unusual mix of people – an eclectic mix of shapes and sizes and ages. Most of the announcers were men. I saw April in a corner of the office. She looked like a delicate rose in a field of scruffy thorns. She waved at me. She was talking to Cindy. The young secretary had a clutch of folders held to her chest. She handed one to April, glanced at me, and then drifted silently away into the mingle of bodies.
I gestured with my thumb. “Have I done something to piss her off?” I glanced over my shoulder. Cindy was handing out the folders to all the other broadcasters.
April shrugged. “Not that I know of. Maybe you have that effect on all women.” She smiled.
“Well have I pissed
you
off yet?”
She rolled her eyes with the kind of theatrical drama that only a woman knows. “Every night,” she teased me. “Every single night.”
I glanced again at Cindy before she disappeared through the office door. There was a wiggle in her bottom that I hadn’t noticed before – a provocative tease in the way she walked…
“Maybe she’s just shy,” April laughed aloud like she had just delivered the punch line to the joke of the century.
Not
funny.
The sound of conversations ebbed and flowed around the room for a few more minutes and then Nancy came through the door. She had a Styrofoam cup in her hand and a scowl on her face. Tucked awkwardly under her arm were long rolls of paper like architect plans. She lifted her arm like it was a wing, and the papers fell in a heap on her desk.
“Sit, sit,” Nancy said. There were chairs stacked against the wall. Everyone found a piece of floor space and we sat, sat.
Nancy flicked her eyes over the group, maybe taking a silent roll call to be certain everyone had arrived. Her gaze as it swept over me became an abrupt glare – no sign of recognition.
“Okay, let’s get down to it.” The way she spoke it was clear that she had no good news. She unrolled one of the tubes of paper and turned to pin it on a presentation stand beside her desk. It was a graph of some sort – a squiggle of lines in red and blue. There was more red than blue.
Nancy slapped a point on the chart and turned to the assembled group. “Revenues are down in three key areas – breakfast, drive time and afternoons,” she said. “We’re four percent behind last quarter, and we’re getting our ass kicked in the important demographics…” she paused for a moment as if seeking out the broadcasters who covered those shifts, and then her gaze turned to steel and her voice rose to a seething accusation. “What the fuck are you assholes doing to my radio station?”
There was tense silence. No one spoke. Nancy ripped down the chart and pinned the next one up. This one was different – a blue rising line.
“The graveyard shift is the only program that is performing above revenue projections,” she said. She fixed her eyes on April like I was invisible. “Well done.” Nancy didn’t smile and the praise was grudging, delivered in a gruff voice. “The figures I am seeing indicate that listener numbers have more than tripled in the last week alone, and advertisers are now being charged a premium. Your show is carrying the load for everyone else who is
failing miserably!
” Her voice became shrill. I saw grown men around me cringing. Nancy huffed and her mouth twisted into a snarl. “Meeting over,” she decided. “Fix your fucking programs or start looking for new careers.”
Everyone got to their feet at once, keen to clear the room. Nancy caught my eye. “Stay,” she said.
I glanced at April. She looked worried. I gave her a reassuring smile and she fled from the office. Suddenly Nancy and I were alone. She stalked to the door and pulled it shut with a violent slam.
I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “Very inspiring,” I said casually. “That’s the kind of pep talk Hitler used to give to his Generals.”
Nancy turned on me. There was a wild fury in her eyes. Her arms were folded across her chest. She hadn’t heard a word I had said. She was breathing hard, panting with pent up rage.
“Did you fuck her?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Did you fuck her?”
Nancy shouted. She was incensed with anger. Her eyes were black, her face twisted into an ugly mask of hatred.
I frowned. “Fuck who?”
“April!” she screamed at me, her voice cracking in a shriek of indignation.
For long seconds there was only silence in the room. Nancy was trembling with pain and anguish. Her jaw was clenched tight, her hands gripped into fists.
“No,” I said calmly, holding her gaze, not blinking, not averting my eyes – just staring at her with sincerity. “No, I didn’t. I haven’t.”
Nancy’s expression became incredulous. Her expression changed and then changed again. She shook her head at last, in a gesture that was bleak with despair and disappointment. “You’re denying it,” she said, the words hollow, empty with desolation.
“Of course I am denying it,” I said. “Nancy, I don’t know what you think, or what you might have heard, but it’s wrong. April and I have become good friends and nothing more. We are
not
lovers.”
She glared at me and I saw the fury reappear in her eyes. “You lying bastard…”
My hand snapped out – like the strike of a snake – and I grasped her wrist and tugged her to me. She gasped in surprise. I pressed my face close to hers and my expression turned black.
“I am not lying,” I snarled through clenched teeth. “I am telling you the truth. And if you are going to submit to me, you are going to need to learn to trust me.”
Nancy froze. She wanted to believe me – I could see it in her face. I let go of her wrist. Her arm fell limp to her side. She staggered away from me and paced the room, prowling with her brow furrowed, her lips pinched into a dark scowl. She glanced up at me and then looked away again, eyes on the carpet, circling me like a shark.
“You need to trust me…” I said again.
Nancy stopped pacing.
“How can I?” she cried out. Her voice rose sharply, and then suddenly everything she had held pent up spilled out in a torrent of tortured words. “You tell me you didn’t fuck April, but Grover tells me you did! He saw you, Jericho. He saw you through the blinds while you were doing last night’s program!”
“Grover…?”
I felt a sudden coldness settle on my chest – a chill of formless understanding and disbelief.
Nancy’s voice became spiteful with triumph. She thrust an accusing finger into my ribs like she wished it were a knife. “You’re fucking lying!”
I felt the first dark clouds of an unholy rage boiling up within me. A red mist of hatred burned behind my eyes so that when I spoke it took all my willpower to keep the words stilted and restrained.
“Grover saw us?”
“Through the blinds between the booth and the studio when you were airing the sub-club session. He saw you fucking her, Jericho!”
I recalled last night’s program – the frantic rush as I put down the blinds because we were behind schedule. Suddenly I knew.
I went very still. “Nancy, what Grover saw was me on my knees behind April. I had my jeans on. April had her panties on. I pulled her against me and we simulated sex so I could describe the curve of her back and the way her body moved to listeners – to give the session a sense of reality. At no time did I touch April. She had her bra off – her choice – but I didn’t even touch her breasts. What Grover told you is wrong.”
“She’s making a fucking play for you! Can’t you see that?”
I shook my head. “She’s not,” I said emphatically. I could have told Nancy then that April was gay – I could have… but I wouldn’t betray April’s secret or her trust. “We are nothing more than friends. Nothing more.”
Nancy’s expression became wrenched with fresh torment. She was leaning towards me, but doubts held her back. “You have to trust me,” I said again gently.
Long seconds of agonized silence followed. Nancy stared into my eyes, looking for any sign of betrayal. Finally she sighed, and all the tension seemed to drain away from her body so that she went limp. Her features softened, but there was still a hot flush of temper on her cheeks.
“Swear it to me,” she insisted. “Swear that you didn’t fuck April, and that there is absolutely nothing going on between you two.”
I stepped closer. I took her hand gently in mine and placed it over my heart. I looked into her eyes. “I swear it,” I said.
Nancy blinked, then nodded slowly. She let out a long weary breath. “Okay… I believe you.”
“Trust,” I said yet again. “Everything between us hinges on trust.”
Nancy looked up with a flicker of a defiant challenge. “Does that work both ways, Jericho? Do you need to trust me as completely as you are asking me to trust you?”
I thought about that seriously for a long time.
“Yes,” I admitted.
We lapsed into another long silence. There was still tension in the air, but it was dissipating like dark clouds clearing from a sky. Nancy kept pacing the room restlessly. But the agitation had gone from her.
“Where is Cecily?” I asked at last.
Nancy glanced at me in surprise at the sudden change of subject. “She arrived back this morning.”
“Back? Has she been on holiday?”
“No. Her mother passed away. She got the call last week here at work… it might even have been during your first program.”
I thought back. I remembered Cecily on the phone, the secrecy and the expression on her face. At the time I had thought it proof that she had been Sondra. Now that phone call made sense.
“Get her in here,” I decided. “I need her to produce the program tonight.”
Nancy looked perplexed. She started to shake her head. “But Grover is slated to your show…”
She saw the blaze of fury in my eyes and her voice faltered.
“Grover won’t be able to work tonight…” I said. “Not when I am finished with him.”
Chapter 29.
I arrived at work early and prowled the halls of the radio station, still simmering with anger. April arrived and saw the dark look on my face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said. This was between Grover and me.
“Has it got something to do with this morning’s meeting? The dragon was pretty pissed. Did she say something to you?”
I shook my head. “Only that she was happy with the way the program was going,” I told the little lie, and then changed the subject. “Did you see Cecily in the parking garage?”
April shook her head. “No. Should I have?”
I frowned. “She’s producing the program for us tonight. I thought she might come in early… try to get up to speed with what we’re doing with the different segments.”
April looked surprised. “Really? I didn’t get the memo. I thought Grover was – ”
At that exact moment, Grover appeared in the foyer. He had a hippie bag slung over his shoulder. He was wearing a ‘Bon Jovi’ tour t-shirt and faded jeans with sandals on his feet. He saw April and me standing together, and his face broke into an artificial, insincere smile.
“Hiya, guys,” he said in an artificial, insincere attempt at friendliness. I glared at him and he turned his attention to April. “How was the meeting with the evil one this morning?”
April shrugged. “Same old, same old,” she said.
Grover nodded like he wasn’t listening. We headed down the hallway and Grover went straight into the producer’s booth.
I led April into the studio and carefully lowered the blinds. She gave me a puzzled, curious look.
She dropped down into her chair, threw her handbag on the floor. I leaned over the desk and pushed my face close to hers.
“I want you to call 911 on your cell phone,” I said in a slow calm voice. “I want you to get paramedics here to the radio station.”
April’s eyes went wide and filled with alarm. “What? Why?”
“Tell them we have a man here with severe abdominal pain. He will need to go to the hospital.”
April stared at me like I was crazy. “When did this happen?” she asked.
“In about five minutes from now,” I said pointedly.
She shook her head, utterly confused. “Jericho, I don’t –”
“Just do it,” I said, and then walked out of the studio, pulling the door closed behind me.
I pushed the door open to the producer’s booth and stood for a long menacing moment on the threshold. Grover saw me. He was sitting at his desk with his feet up, ankles crossed, on the tabletop. His face went pale. He swung his legs to the ground and his body seemed to shrink within the chair. I stepped wordlessly into the room and glared at him.
Grover got unsteadily to his feet. I could see ghastly fear in his face. His eyes were enormous and there was a twist of panic across his lips. He held up his hands.
“Whoa,” he said. “What… what’s up, man?”
I crossed the room slowly. Grover edged away until he was up against the desk with nowhere else to move. He was shaking like a man in the grips of a fever. I clenched my fists and the knuckles cracked.
“Do you remember what I told you last time you looked through the window into the studio while April and I were recording a sub-club segment?” My voice was low and filled with menace. I took a step closer to Grover. I wanted him to see the intent in my eyes.
He bobbed his head pathetically and licked his lips. His eyes darted around the room looking for an escape that didn’t exist. I saw him steal a glance at the phone, but he realized there was no way he could make a call in time.
“I… I remember, man!” he said. He tried to make his voice sound confused and bewildered. All I heard was guilty fear.
“Well you got your only warning,” I said. “Now I’m here to fulfill that promise.”
Grover bumped against a pile of folders and they clattered to the floor. He was sweating. I could hear his breath – short sharp gasps of air.
“I found out what you did,” I said.
Grover started to babble a denial. I slapped him open-handed across the face. The blow wrenched his head to the side, and the crack of sound was like a gunshot. Grover’s eyes filled with stinging tears. He held his hand to his cheek as if to reassure himself that his face was still intact.
“Shut up, and listen,” I said in a cold, dead-voiced threat. “I said last time that if you did it again I would gut you – take a knife and slit your deviant body from your chest to your abdomen – rip you open like a fish so that your entrails spilled out on the floor. Remember that?”
Grover didn’t answer. Tears ran down his cheeks. His mouth fell open in a silent shriek for help, or maybe mercy.
“I’m not going to do that, after all,” I said. My eyes bored into his. My gaze was cruel. I felt no sympathy, no compassion. “In fact, I’m going to do the exact opposite…”
There was a long moment of silence. Grover was moaning softly, bending at the waist as though he might collapse. I took a step closer and he instinctively flinched away from the desk.
Right where I wanted him.
I kicked out hard, driving my foot into Grover’s crotch. The blow had all my weight and balance behind it – like a long distance punt on a football field. I felt my boot sock meatily between his legs and the crush of soft squelching flesh. The force of the kick heaved him off his feet and he fell to the ground writhing in excruciating pain. He clutched at his abdomen and thrashed around on the carpet. His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth wide open. He was making a high-pitched keening shriek. His face was waxen and white. He curled himself up into a tight ball and began sobbing.
I left the room, pulled the door quietly closed behind me and went back into the studio. I glanced at the clock. It was 11:35pm. Then I saw April’s expression. She was very pale, very small. She looked at me with big fathomless eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She slid her finger off the intercom button that connected the booth and the studio. “I heard everything,” she said.
I looked into her eyes. “He told Nancy that you and I were having sex during last night’s show. There must have been a chink in the blinds after I lowered them. He was watching you…”
April nodded her head, a silent solemn understanding.
I said nothing.
A few minutes later a team of paramedics arrived.