Yankee Doodle Dixie (22 page)

On the way back down the hall I notice Edward’s door. It’s shut, thank goodness, and after bending down I can tell he’s not made it into the office yet. No light is peeking out from underneath the slit. Taking a deep breath, I turn the corner to the control room. Even though my stomach feels as though I’ve just stepped off the Zippin Pippin at the fairgrounds, I’ve already convinced myself to try and remain calm. Cool. Collected. I can do this. I can be in the same room with James Taylor and chat with him like a normal human being, nary a starstruck bone in my body.

The on-air light fades. Mustering courage and charisma, with pink phone message in hand, I courageously push open the control room door with my shoulder, ready to hand the note over to JT himself. Johnny’s in his regular position working the board, Jack’s on the other side as usual, in front of his computer, and JT is … nowhere to be found. I glance behind me in the unfortunate instance that I may have just missed him.

“
Where’s JT
?” There’s panic in my voice.

They both glance at each other before bursting out laughing.

“What?
What
?” My voice is climbing. “Did he leave down the back steps while I was in the bathroom?” I look behind me again and cover my face with my hands, exhaling loudly. “How could this have happened?”

Jack reaches over, picks up James’s newsboy cap resting on the counter next to him and places it on his head. “Good morning, Leelee,” he says, in a perfect, and I mean spot-on, JT voice.

All I can do is stare at Jack. I can’t utter a single sound. My face must look as forlorn and pitiful as Lucy’s did that day in Hollywood when Ricky wouldn’t let her meet John Wayne. Of course both guys, at this point, are falling out of their chairs from laughter, all at my expense.

“It’s not funny,” I say, and inadvertently stomp my foot. “I believed y’all. I almost turned around and drove all the way home to change out of this tacky dress.” I look down and squeeze the fabric between my fingers. “But I was afraid I’d miss catching a glimpse of JT. And now I find out it’s all
a joke
?”

Johnny stares at my dress. “That dress really is tacky.”

Blood rushes to my face.

“I’m just kidding you, girl.”

“And how is it that I don’t know that you sing?” I say to Jack, throwing my arms in the air.

“I don’t know how you don’t know,” he says, chuckling.

“You sounded exactly like him.” Now it all makes sense. Jack can talk exactly like George Bush, Bill Clinton, and Ross Perot. He’s imitating them all the time on the radio. Of course he can talk and sing like James Taylor.

“Why aren’t you rich and famous like, like that guy who does Richard Nixon and all the other presidents’ voices? You’re just as good.”

In a dead ringer for the voice of Howard Cosell, Jack says, “Because Rich Little’s not stuck in Memphis, Tennessee, working for a boob like Edward Maxwell.”

“I’m devastated. I was just sure you were JT.”

“What do you need James Taylor for? Didn’t you see the note on your desk?” Johnny asks.

I whip my head in his direction. “What note?”

“I put a sealed envelope on your desk. Go read it. Just don’t let Edward see it.”

“What’s it about? Am I in trouble?”

Johnny giggles that giggle. “Go look at it.”

When I get back to my desk, there’s a long FM 99 envelope with my name on the front, sealed shut. I’d been so eager to get inside the control room that I hadn’t even noticed it before. I tear it open and inside there’s a pink telephone message, folded over twice. Before reading it I glance over my shoulder. Unfolding the message, I notice it’s to me from Liam White.
Liam White?
He called at 8:00
A.M.
and there’s a phone number. In the notes part, Johnny writes: “Wow, girl. Looks like you’ve got a suitor.”

My heart zooms down into my black leather pumps. At the bottom of the note is another message from Johnny: “Make sure ‘you know who’ doesn’t hear you call him back. Be discreet about it and btw, I’ve copied down White’s number to sell to the
National Enquirer.
”

On impulse and before I have time to consider the validity of the situation, I go running toward the control room and bump right into “you know who.”

“What’s your hurry?” Edward asks, holding his briefcase, FM 99 silk bomber jacket slung over his shoulder. (It’s not even chilly outside.)

“Oh nothing. I, I’m just checking one of the liner notes on the log. I might have written something down wrong.”

He slightly opens the control room door and pops his head inside. “Good job with the JT bit, buddy,” he says to Jack, and then heads straight to his office and shuts the door.

As I’m stepping inside the control room, the den of radio sin, reality grabs me by the tail and shakes me good and hard. All of a sudden it’s so obvious. Johnny Dial
is lying
! Now I’ve become a victim of his monkey business.
Hmmmm.

Instead of allowing his out-and-out Judas kiss to bamboozle me, I remember the new Leelee, the girl who shed her pushover exterior and stood up to Helga the Horrible in Vermont. With all the confidence of Jamie Lee Curtis daring to go gray in her late thirties, I push open the control room door and march inside. My tongue is pressed firmly on the inside of my cheek, my eyebrows are raised and my arms are crossed in front of my chest. “Okay,” I say, undaunted. “I admit it. You’ve gotten me once today. But it’s not going to happen a second time. Nope, I’m not falling for it.”

“You’re pretty cool, girl. Got a celebrity calling ya,” Johnny licks his index finger and extends it my way. “Sssss,” he says. “You’re hot.”

Uncrossing my arms, I say, “You are making that up and I don’t appreciate it.”

“No, I’m not. I swear. Liam White called here looking for you.”

I reach back and wind my hair into a knot. “Did he say what he wanted, O Master of the Mischief?”

“No. He just wanted to talk to you. He called the hotline. Tyler the intern took the call.”

“And then what? Let me guess”—I pop my finger toward Johnny—“Liam White told Tyler that he wants to marry me. Where is Tyler? Maybe I should get it straight from the horse’s mouth.” Knowing full well he’s nowhere close, I look all around the control room for effect.

“We sent him downtown to Union and Second. He’s passing out morning team bumper stickers,” Jack says with a chuckle.

“How convenient,” I say.

“I swear.” Johnny’s laughing, too.

I shake my head and leer at him.

“Okay. I can see how you might not trust me,” he says between chuckles.

“You think?”

“Here’s exactly what happened. White calls early this morning. He asks to speak to you. Tyler tells him you aren’t in yet so he leaves his number. I swore Tyler to secrecy. I told him he’d be fired if he breathes a word to anyone. Except Jack. He heard it, too.”

Jack holds his hands up, palms out. “Your secret’s safe with me, kid.” Now he’s Humphrey Bogart in
Casablanca.

“Hmmm. Johnny Dial I have to say, you are so good at taking a plausible situation and stroking it just enough to make it sound real.”

“If you don’t believe me, call the number yourself. You’ll see,” Johnny says.

I stare at the number a few moments. “If you’re kidding me…”

“It’s the truth.” Johnny draws a cross on his heart. “Hope to die.”

Instead of calling Liam White I rush into the ladies’ room to call the one friend who might support me if this story is real. Sure enough, Mary Jule starts screaming when I tell her. The believer in all things fairy tale (nothing has ever really gone wrong in Mary Jule’s life; both of her parents are still living and Al is completely devoted to her) tries to convince me that Johnny is indeed telling the truth. We talk a few minutes more before she persuades me to hang up from her and call Liam White right this minute.

After pondering the risk of calling from my desk or the bathroom, I decide to put it off until lunchtime. Part of me is counting down the seconds and the other part of me is still dubious. And rightfully so. The more I think about it, the crazier I think I am for believing Johnny Dial. But when the clock strikes twelve noon, I race out to my car.

Just as I’m about to punch in his number, Alice’s name comes up on my cell phone. When I answer she screams into my ear. “DO NOT CALL LIAM WHITE BACK.”

Surprise, surprise. The pipeline has sprung a leak.

“Why?”

“Haven’t you learned anything?” she says. “A: You’re being way too eager. B: We still don’t know if he’s married or not. And C: He might have a dang disease.”

“Alice! I’m not going to bed with him. I’m just returning his call.”

“Can’t you let
him
call
you
back? Hold on, I’m getting Virginia on the phone with us.”

When Alice explains to her what’s happening Virginia’s just as adamant. “Absolutely not, Fiery. Let him call you back.”

“But suppose Edward finds out? I’m already taking a risk as it is.”

“No, let him chase you. You be the
one
girl in the world who doesn’t call him back,” Virginia says.

“There’s something I haven’t told y’all. I admit it. I kind of can’t stop thinking about the guy,” I say.

“I don’t care. Let him call you back.” Alice is unbending.

“Easy for y’all to say. Suppose you two were single, in love with a man who’s decided that he lives too far away from you to make the relationship work, and a dang rock star calls, albeit probably just to say hello, but still—he calls. What would you do?”

They both reiterate it again. Neither would dial the number.

“Okay. I won’t call,” I say, throwing in the towel.

“Good. I’m proud of you,” Alice says.

“So am I.” Virginia is such a liar. She’d be calling him back so fast, in fact she’d have called him back an hour ago.

“Whatever,” I say, “but I’ve got to go now. Bye.”

I pick up the pink piece of paper again. Read it twice. Three times. Next thing I know, I’m dialing the number. While it’s ringing, I picture Alice with a big ole scowl on her face. Next I see Virginia, not mad, just a little shake of the head as if to say,
Couldn’t take it?
Quickly, I push the end button on my phone.

Then I imagine Mary Jule with a sweet smile on her face. “Leelee, of course I’d have called him back. I’d have done the exact same thing as you.” That’s when I pick up the phone again and start dialing.

After four rings he answers. “Hello.” His voice is low, like he’s just woken up from a nap.

“Hi, it’s Leelee Satterfield,” I say. The contrast in our voices is the difference between a first soprano and a baritone.

“Who?” His tone is abrasive and abrupt. I consider hanging up on him.

“Leelee Satterfield,” I say again. Now my voice is coy and meek. I’ll be surprised if he even heard me.

“Oh hi, Leelee,” he says, no affect.

Now I’m wondering why in the world I didn’t follow Alice’s advice.

“What can I do for you?” he asks, quite businesslike.

“I’m actually returning your call. I got a message that you called me earlier this morning.”

“No, I never called you.”

Knife inserting into heart.
I hate you, Johnny Dial.
“Really? Johnny said he talked to you.”

“Who’s Johnny?”

“The morning deejay, here at FM 99.”

“I never talked with him,” he says curtly.

“Actually I meant to say it was Tyler, our intern, who took the message,” I stammer, humiliation lacing my voice.

Silence.

This is all a very bad dream.
“Sorry to disturb you. I’m sorry to have called. Bye—”

“How did you get this number? Seriously.”

“I told you.” I can hear my heartbeat thumping inside my ears. “Johnny Dial gave it to me.” What a sick joke he’s played on me. This one is just cruel.

“Well, I’ve gotta jump,” Liam says.

“Okay, well. See you later,” I say.

“Yeah.”

Then the call is over. The line is dead. I stare at the phone in disbelief. What in the world just happened? I burst out crying. How have I been so fooled? Just two weeks ago, Liam White had been a perfect gentleman when he invited us backstage and dropped us off at our car. It just doesn’t make any sense. That’s it. I’m done with Johnny Dial. The guilt I felt yesterday about playing the trick on Stan is suddenly much worse. I’ve been playing on the wrong team.

*   *   *

After another long day at the office, I pull up in my driveway and the Tupperware/Cutco/Pampered Chef consultant himself is, as always, in his front yard with Luke. I’m starting to think he times his yard duties to coincide with my arrival from work. I simply wave—I’m so not in the mood for Riley—and head around back to the carport. Once I throw the car in park, I hurry my daughters out of the car. Roberta’s in the backyard pawing on the fence and the girls blast through the gate to play with him and climb on the rickety old swing set.

After hurrying inside, I throw open my fridge and reach for a Coke. The chilliness of the bottle in my hand seems to somehow take the edge off. When the doorbell rings, seconds later, I don’t even have to wonder who it is. Popping the top on my Coke as I go, I stroll over to the front door and peek through the peephole.

There he stands, holding something new in his hand. As much as I’d like to ignore him, there’s no use.

After sucking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly, I throw open the door. “Well, Riley. How are you?”

“Just fine.” Seeing it’s the middle of April, he no longer needs a jacket. Today he’s wearing a big button on his Tupperware golf shirt that reads, “Discover the Chef in You … Ask Me How!”

He hands me a part of the newspaper that’s been folded in two.

“What’s this?” I ask, not even bothering to unfold it.

“Your Wednesday circular. You wan over it when you dwove in the dwiveway.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” I tell him, sweeping my hand across of my face, “I don’t usually pick those up until they’ve been run over several times and are soaked in rainwater.”

Riley shakes his head and squeezes his lips together. “You shouldn’t do that. You’re missing out on some gweat deals.” Reaching over to grab the circular back out of my hand, he opens it to show me. “You won’t believe what Kwoger’s got on special this week. I’ve just gotten back with a big load of gwocewies. Let’s see, I got deals on toilet paper, toothpaste, dog food, Wagu—”