After All

AFTER ALL

LYNN EMERY

All names, characters, stories, and
incidents featured in this novel are imaginary. They are not
inspired by any individual person, incidents or events known or
unknown to the author. Any resemblance to actual persons living or
dead is coincidental. AFTER ALL was originally published by
Kensington Books in 1996. This is a reprint.

Copyright 1996 Margaret Emery
Hubbard

Smashwords Edition

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Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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at:

www.lynnemery.com

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In 2000 Black Entertainment
Television (BET) produced a moved based on this novel.
After All starred Holly Robinson
Peete
.

Chapter 1

Michelle watched the blinking red light
in fascination. Years of hard work and sacrifice had lead to this
moment. She thought of her days slogging away at a small town
newspaper editing copy; the day she finally got a byline; then the
first time she went on the air at a local radio station reading
headlines fed from a news service. Every step she had taken in her
career was with an eye on one goal, television news reporting.
Still, her stomach muscles tightened as the camera moved closer.
Was she ready for this?

“
Just got a hot tip from my
source at the police department. Councilwoman Wilson's son just got
arrested for possession of pot. At least we've got something hot to
lead with now. So dump that snoozer on the new community center
opening.”Jason Brett, the producer's assistant, spoke in rapid fire
delivery as he lifted the top sheet from the neat stack in front of
her.

“
Give me that back!”Michelle
snatched the paper from his hand.

“
Thirty seconds,” Bob, the
cameraman, barked at them. You kids play nice now.” Even with most
of his face hidden behind the camera, his impish grin was
visible.

“
What do you think you're
doing?”Jason's face turned several shades of red.

“
Those people sold chicken
dinners and washed cars to get that center open and I'm going to
see that they get recognized.”Michelle's large brown eyes glittered
with ire as she stared him down.

“
Fifteen seconds,” Bob
called.

“
Why you--”

“
Ten seconds.”Bob stuck his
head clear of the camera. “You planning to make your debut on the
six o’clock news, Jason?”

A fuming Jason scurried out of view but
stood glaring at her. Bob raised his hand as he silently counted
down. Within a split second, he pointed at Michelle. The red light
winked out and a green light came on.

“
Good evening. Welcome to
Channel Twelve, the News Leader. I'm Michelle Toussaint filling in
for Steve Stroder who's a little under the weather. Leslie Gravier
has the night off. Among our stories tonight, through hard work and
without government assistance, folks in the crime ridden community
known as Easy Town provide an alternative to the streets for
neighborhood kids. And our school board grapples with a serious
budget shortfall. But first, our lead story. Randall Wilson, son of
local councilwoman Hazel Wilson is again in the news--”

Michelle concentrated on her delivery
and poise, determined to appear as though she had been born reading
the news in front of thousands of television viewers. Yet when Fred
Cambre began his weather report, she couldn't refrain from taking a
deep breath. It was as if she had been under water for the first
fifteen minutes of the broadcast. The rest would be easier than
having to carry the whole load. Just her luck the chance she
finally got to co-anchor in Leslie's place, Steve came down with
the flu.

“
And that's it for sports.
Join us later tonight for Sports Spotlight at eleven. Michelle.”
Gary Twill, dapper in his deep green jacket, nodded crisply. The
former college football star flashed his famous smile at
her.

“
Thanks, Gary. Finally, a
grassroots effort by parents and several small churches pays off.
After a lot of hard work, residents in one of the toughest
neighborhoods here in Baton Rouge finally opened the doors of
renovated house that had been a haven for drug dealers and users.
Now that house will provide services to uplift young people.
Channel Twelve salutes the Highland Street Community Center as the
newest beacon of hope in place that sorely needs it.”Michelle
rapidly read the story omitting several lines since time was short.
Bob even rolled twenty seconds of the video tape.

“
That's it for the news at
six, join us at ten o'clock for a complete update on these reports
and more.”Michelle felt comfortable and relaxed.

“
Smooth, Michelle. Real
smooth.” Bob winked at her. All three cameras went off. “Uh-oh,
shark approaching,” he said in an undertone.

“
Jason tells me you have the
idea that you decide what stories get on.”Weston Lockport, tall
with gray touching the temples of his black hair, walked up close
to Michelle as she stood sipping from a tiny paper cup of
water.

“
I read the story on Randall
Wilson.”Michelle knew better than to smile or make excuses.
Fighting the urge to step back, she merely tilted her head up to
gaze into intense black eyes.

“
But you don't argue with
the news producer.”

“
I didn't argue with
you.”

“
Jason acts on my
instructions, something you know very well.”

“
I didn't refuse to do the
story. Do you think I'm crazy? I just told him I had enough time to
do the community center piece, too.”Michelle kept a straight face.
She knew that an anchor had little if any say so in what stories
got on and to buck the producer or news director was professional
suicide.

Lockport arched his thick eyebrows at
her. “That's not exactly how he described it.” The studio went
quiet while he studied her for several moments. “Solid presentation
though.”He nodded curtly before he strode off. That was high praise
indeed from the usually taciturn producer.

“
Whew, you dodged that
bullet.”Kate, the short, plump production assistant, waited until
Lockport was off the set before approaching Michelle. They walked
to the newsroom together.

“
I know. That little weasel
Jason really grates on my nerves. Every time I've tried to get on a
story that's positive about our community, he slams it with
Lockport.

“
Listen, I'm just a lowly
production assistant, but I say be careful. Jason can be a spiteful
weasel, and Mr.

Lockport listens to him for some
reason,” Kate warned.

“
Yeah, well. It was worth it
to see him change more colors than the fall leaves in New England,”
Michelle snickered.

“
He was so steamed. I swear
he was whistling like a tea kettle.” Kate covered her mouth to
smother a giggle. The amusement left her round face. “Uh, I gotta
go. Hello, Jennifer.”She hurried off.

Jennifer Callaway, tall and blonde,
never even glanced at Kate let alone acknowledged her greeting.
Ruthless in her pursuit to win more awards than any other reporter,
she had little time for those who could not further her career.
Wearing a blue pant suit that showcased her fabulous figure, she
did not enter a room as much as she took possession of
it.

“
Well, you didn't screw up.
This time.”Jennifer gave her a frosty smile.

“
So gracious in defeat. An
attitude befitting a former Miss Dunghill, 1984.” Michelle made a
small curtsy.

“
Miss Springhill,” Jennifer
hissed at her with a scowl.

“
Whatever. And no, according
to Mr. Lockport I definitely did not screw up as you so delicately
put it.” Michelle strolled to her desk.

“
Don't get too used to it. I
mean affirmative action can only take you so far.”Jennifer followed
her.

“
What?” Michelle whirled
around.

“
You heard me. Lockport has
his marching orders,

sugar. Having you on screen is
politically correct. But that's only a fad. Real talent and ability
will win out.” Jennifer tossed her hair.

“
You're right. So where does
that leave you? I know; Bingo the clown is up for grabs on the
afternoon kiddy show. You can handle that. They print his cue cards
in words of three syllables or less.” Michelle's eyes smoldered
with anger.

“
Ha-ha. We'll see if your
smart mouth doesn't get you in big trouble. If that stunt you
pulled tonight is any clue, all I have to do is wait until you
self-destruct.”Jennifer flounced off.

“
Damn her.”Michelle slammed
a desk drawer. Hard as she tried, the suggestion that she was being
given breaks for anything but her ability really touched a
nerve.

“
I heard. She's just green
with envy and willing to say anything to hurt you.” Gracie gave her
shoulder a pat.

“
But she could be right. For
years this station has been lily white. With all the industry
emphasis on diversity, token gestures are being made all over the
country.” Michelle stared at the computer screen in front of her
morosely.

“
Listen, you're good. We
know it and they know it. So what if their motives aren't pure.
Success is the best revenge I always say.”

“
You know, for a red-head
you're all right.” Michelle smiled mischievously.

“
Hey cuz, us Irish gotta
stick together.”

“
Shoot, I never should have
told you about that distant branch of my family tree.”

As Michelle joked with her friend, she
began to wind down from the tension of her debut. Though they
rarely saw each other after work, she and Gracie were close
colleagues. With her easy going style, Gracie was a perfect balance
for Michelle who tended to take herself too seriously. Though only
four years older, Gracie had more experience under her belt and
none of the ego usually found in the business. She had helped
Michelle with valuable advice during her first year at the
station.

The news room still hummed with
activity as the evening shift of reporters bustled in and out
gathering material for the late newscast and stories to be
presented on Monday.

“
Look who's here.” Gracie
tapped Michelle on the shoulder and pointed.

Michelle felt a hard thud in her chest.
Even six years later, the sight of Anthony Hilliard made her heart
beat faster. But now she was twenty-seven and should have better
since. Still, Anthony the man brought on the same reaction now as
he’d caused when they met at age fourteen in the lunch room at Glen
Oaks Junior High.