Jennifer Crusie Bundle (80 page)

“But you do want to save the city building,” Allie told him helpfully.

“As Bill would say, I don't give a rat's ass about the city building.” Charlie did his damnedest to look stern, hampered by the suspicion that he looked a lot like Bill and his dad. “Don't do that again.”

Allie nodded, the picture of obedience, and he knew he was losing. “So you won't talk about it tonight on the air, I guess.”

“Unless somebody calls in and mentions it.” Charlie narrowed his eyes at her. “They call us. We don't call them.”

Allie nodded again. “No problem.”

“Fine.” Charlie looked at her suspiciously but she smiled back, innocent. He gave up and pulled the bumper sticker out of his pocket. “Now that that's settled, what is this?” He held the sticker up for her to see.

“A bumper sticker.” Allie sat down and began to shuffle papers.

“No, I mean what does it mean?” Charlie leaned on the desk. “Karen said these are really popular.”

Allie stopped shuffling and looked at him with palpable patience. “They are. Mark thought up the slogan—you know, turn on the radio—and everybody thought it was stupid, and then after we'd had them about a month, the high school and college kids started collecting them.” Allie shrugged. “As long as it keeps WBBB in front of the community, who cares what it means?”

Charlie folded the sticker up again and put it back in his pocket. “How long ago was this? That they got popular?”

Allie shrugged. “I don't know. About a month maybe. A couple of weeks. Why?”

“It has occurred to you that they might be using it to refer to drugs.”

Allie looked at him with exasperation. “No, Charlie, that never occurred to me. Gee, what an idea. Now if you don't mind, I've got things to do before you go on tonight.”

“All right.” Charlie gave up and turned to go. “I mean it about those calls. You don't call anybody. Ever again.”

“I'll take care of everything.” Allie smiled at him again, and Charlie closed his eyes.

“Somehow, that does not reassure me,” he told her and then retreated back into the hall before he let her talk him into something he'd regret.

She was developing a real knack for that.

T
HE CALLS STARTED
coming in before Harry went off the air, and Allie listened as Harry handled them with an intelligence that was eye-opening. Then right before the news, he said, “Well, I want to thank all of you who called in on the city building and remind you that Charlie Tenniel is up next, right after the news, and he's the man to talk to about this mess. If anybody can save the city building, Charlie can, even if he has to work all night. Which, actually, he does. The news is next, folks, and then…Charlie All Night!”

Charlie frowned at Allie. “Charlie All Night?”

Allie shrugged, trying to look innocent. “Harry and I thought it was catchy.”

“Knock it off, Allie,” he said, and she batted her eyes at him, too happy with the way things were going to care if he was mad or not.

When he took the booth over, Allie met Harry coming out.

“You were good tonight,” she told him. “That was a nice intro for Charlie, but you were really good before that, too.”

“I thought you didn't like the howling.”

“I hate the howling.” Allie folded her arms. “Why don't you just talk like you did tonight to those people on the phone?”

“Because usually there aren't any people on the phone.” Harry snorted, and Allie wasn't sure whether his contempt was for her or for himself. “I'm not Charlie, honey. I don't do that philosophical stuff.”

Fighting the urge to point out that Charlie had a way to go before he posed a major threat to Plato, Allie followed him out into the hall. “Harry, you don't have to be Charlie. Just be yourself. I thought about this today. Talk about things you like. Like…cars.”

Harry stopped so suddenly she bumped into him. “Cars?” He considered it and shook his head before ambling down the hall again. “Nah.”

“You could make it work, Harry,” Allie said, still pursuing him. “You know a lot about cars and stereos and guy things.”

Harry stopped again and Allie bumped into him again. “Guy things? Cut me a break.”

“Harry.”
The exasperation in her voice must have gotten to him because he turned around. “You can do this,” she said slowly and distinctly. “I will help you.”

Harry shook his head at her. “If anybody could, you could, Al, but I don't think so. I'm just not star material.”

“Yes, you are,” Allie said, but he turned away again. “Wait a minute.” She caught his arm. “How's Sam?”

Harry shrugged again. “I got a little more formula down him. Not much. I don't think he's going to make it.”

“Oh, no,” Allie said and went back to the booth to see if she could tickle some more calories into the puppy.

B
Y ONE
, Charlie had logged twenty-one calls: sixteen in favor of the city building, three in favor of impeaching the mayor and two women in favor of dating Charlie when he got off work. He was pretty sure he'd contained the controversy, but he was also pretty sure that the mayor and his brother had just lost a ton of money thanks to him.

So much for laying low.

Allie waved to him through the studio window. “Do you need me to stay around?” she said into her mike.

She looked tired, so Charlie shook his head at her. “Just shut the phones down. Sam and I are going to take it easy for the rest of the night.” He tried to tickle the puppy into taking the bottle again, but it was no go.

He hated it, but they were going to lose him.

Allie came in to check on Sam before she left. “How is he?” she asked, but the tape was done, and Charlie set up the next triple play: Billy Joel, Heart and Tony Bennett. He listened to “River of Dreams” begin before he turned back to the Allie and the puppy.

“Not good.” He took off the headphones and put them on the counter next to the basket. “See?” He tickled the puppy's chin and Sam moved his mouth weakly once. “I can't get him to take much. Harry said the same thing. I don't think he's going to make it, Al.”

Allie lifted the tiny body out of the basket and put him on the counter to rub his stomach. “Maybe he's too warm. Maybe it makes him lethargic.”

“He's a puppy. He should probably be in an incubator.”

Sam began to move his legs feebly against the counter.

“He's cold,” Charlie said, but Allie held the bottle to his mouth and Sam took it, making feeble sucking sounds, gulping down formula.

Charlie put his head down next to Sam, pushing the headphones away. “I'll be damned. He's taking it. No, wait, he's stopped.”

“Wait a minute. Move your head.” Allie shoved his head away from the puppy and pulled the headphones back close, and Sam began to suck again, weakly, but with a good rhythm.

“I don't believe it,” Charlie said. “He likes Billy.”

“Maybe it's the beat.” Allie smiled down at the puppy. “Maybe it sounds like his mom's heart or something.”

“Well, whatever it is, it's working.” Samson sucked on like a champ and Charlie sat back, more relieved than he'd realized. Maybe Sam would make it, after all.

Allie bent over the puppy, cooing encouragement. Her rump was right in front of him. Practically an invitation. He pulled her into his lap, careful not to knock the bottle out of her hand or out of Sam's mouth, and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Her blue sweater was made of some kind of soft bubbly yarn, and she was warm against him, and he buried his face in the back of her neck and smelled the flowers in her shampoo. He spoke to her, mainly because he wanted to hear her voice. “How's the show so far?”

“Terrific, as always.” Allie concentrated on Sam. “I can't believe this. He's drinking like a fraternity boy.”

“What do you mean, ‘as always.' This is just the second time we did this.” Charlie tightened his arms at the thought.

“Well, we're good.” Allie's voice went cold. “He's stopping. What's wrong?”

Charlie reached around her for the headphones and listened. “He must not like ‘Friends in Low Places.' It's one of my favorites.”

“Well, play Billy again, for heaven's sake.” Allie squirmed around on his lap, exasperated. “He
drinks
when you play Billy.”

Charlie swallowed and put the headphones back. “Stop moving around on me like that. It's distracting.”

“Play Billy.” Allie's voice brooked no disagreement.

“Burp him until this is done and then I'll put Billy back on again,” Charlie said, surrendering. “Does it have to be ‘River of Dreams'?”

“I don't know.” Allie bent over the puppy, and Charlie let his hand trail down her back. “Better not mess with success. Play Billy.”

“Right,” Charlie said, and when Heart was done, he let Billy rip again, and Sam went back to the bottle like a trouper.

By the third play-through, Sam had fallen asleep and was back in his basket.

“I bet if we put headphones on his basket, he'd do better.” Allie started to get up. “There's a pair—”

“Wait a minute.” Charlie pulled her back into his lap, and when she turned to protest, he kissed her, wanting her softness against him and her mouth on his for just a moment. She relaxed against him, and he felt her tongue tease his mouth, and then he grinned and opened to her, cupping her breast hard in his hand while he bent her head back with the kiss and she wrapped her arms around him.

“Hello,” she said a few minutes later, coming up for air. “What was that for? I'm in favor of it, but what was that for?”

“That was for me,” Charlie told her, trying to get his breath back. “Go get those headphones now, or I'll take you right here in the booth.”

“Oh.” Allie stayed where she was for a moment and then grinned when he didn't move. “Talk's cheap, Tenniel.”

He grabbed for her then but she slipped away from his hands, and he let her go because the song was over, and also because he had every intention of plying her with Chinese food later and of making love to her until she screamed.

“T
HIS IS GREAT
,” Allie said at two-thirty as they split a double order of garlic chicken, eating from the carton with two forks this time. “The show was really good tonight, right up to the end. I knew you were going to be a hit, but I had no idea it would be this fast. And I haven't even started on the publicity yet. This is wonderful.”

Charlie stabbed his fork into the chicken. “No, it's not. I told you, I don't want to be famous, so just knock it off.”

Allie gave an exasperated sigh. He really was impossible. It didn't matter because she was going to make him famous, anyway, but he was still impossible. “What's wrong with you? Why don't you want to be a success?”

Charlie ignored her. “Dump some rice in here, the garlic's really heavy.”

“I bet I know what's wrong.” Allie tipped the rice carton into the chicken.

“I do, too. There's not enough rice.”

“No, you're afraid of success.” Allie patted his hand, suddenly sympathetic. After all, he had hit the big time pretty quickly. “It's very common. You'll get used to it. Trust me.”

Charlie moved the carton away from her, holding it behind him. “No, I won't. Look at me.”

Allie obediently looked up at him, her fork poised in case he moved the carton back.

“I do not want to be successful,” he said, speaking slowly and distinctly. “Successful screws with people's heads and makes them think they're above the law and can get away with anything. I'm not like that. I am not going to promote the show. I am not going to have my picture taken. And I am not going to ask any more questions that will get me in trouble. I just want a nice, quiet show. I'm a nice, quiet guy, and I want a nice, quiet show. Is that too much to ask?” He glared at Allie and she glared back at him, annoyed that he could be so wimpy.

“No,” she snapped. “Certainly not. Anything I can do to help you on the road to obscurity?”

“Yes.” Charlie moved the carton back within her reach. “Give me something nonexplosive to talk about tomorrow. Something nice and innocuous.”

Allie stabbed her fork into the chicken. “Stewart drinks coffee from the break-room urn and doesn't pay for it and then he blames the money shortage on the technicians.” She chomped down on her forkful of chicken and gazed balefully at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Well, that is fascinating, but I don't think Greater Tuttle will be interested. Come on, cooperate. You're my producer, produce. And move over. You're hogging the bed.” Charlie shoved her over with his hip and looked into the carton. “Oh, there's rice on the bottom. Maybe we should dump this stuff out on plates.”