Love on the Air (16 page)

Rick shook himself. Man did not live on sensory
flashbacks alone.

With new resolve, he dug through the pile on his desk for a trade magazine, and started searching the
ads for available positions.

"Okay," Yvonne said. "Spill it."

Yvonne had dragged her to a cafe around the corner
from the station. Although there wasn't much warmth
in the January sun, Christie had asked Yvonne if she
minded a table out on the patio, where anything she
said could be scattered to the breeze. Christie didn't
know if this was a good idea or not, but the need to
unload was too great.

Yvonne listened to Christie's story with no attempt
to disguise her widening eyes. Her cappuccino cooled
in front of her, barely touched.

When she finished, Christie said, for the second
time, "You know, if you repeat any of this, I have to
kill you."

"Relax. I can keep a secret." Yvonne sipped from
her cooling styrofoam cup. "But it's a lulu."

Christie took a big swig of her own cappuccino, like
a sailor knocking back whiskey. After nearly three
months on the overnight shift, coffee didn't make her
bounce off the walls any more. It was becoming a
permanent part of her system.

Yvonne shook her head. "You and Rick. Between
the two of you, you drink enough caffeine to power a
city. You must be meant for each other."

"Not when we both work for KYOR."

"You know, women have fallen for the boss before.
Sometimes they live happily ever after."

"Not when the job is so important."

"This is radio, hon, it's not brain surgery."

"I know. But there's not another station within a
hundred miles of here, except in L.A., and I'm not
ready for that. I know it's just a starting point, but I
love my job. And where else would I go?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that in this business,
you have to be ready to move?"

"I know. But then I found this, and it seemed so
perfect."

Yvonne sat back, folding her arms for warmth.
"Well, maybe you could get away with it."

"With what?"

"Dating Rick."

"No. It's against company policy." And he's not
asking.

"Does the company have to know?"

"How long does something like this ever stay a secret?"

"Good point." Yvonne smirked. "Rob and one of
the part-timers were sneaking off to the station van for
a while a year or so back, and they were the only ones
who thought it was a secret. It was a big joke for a
while."

"That's what I mean. Who'd ever take me seriously
again?"

"Seriously." Yvonne repeated the word thoughtfully. "Maybe that's your problem. Are you always so
dead serious about everything?"

"Pretty much. Remember, I was a loan processor
for three years." She shuddered at the thought of going
back.

"Maybe you need to rethink your priorities. You know what happens if the transmitter of that radio station blows up?"

"Big FCC violation?"

"See, that's your problem. What happens is, life
goes on. People are born, they get married, they die,
they have kids." She frowned. "Okay, not in that order. But that's the stuff life is made of. Not the station.
And you and Rick don't seem to know that."

"Okay. Would you walk away from that station today for a chance to get married and have babies?"

Her eyes gleamed. "Depends on who the babies
come from."

"No, seriously." There was that word again. Christie
winced. "Would you be happy with someone if the
first thing you had to do was give up something you
loved?"

Yvonne bit her lip, and they sat in silence. Finally,
Christie said, "I'm sorry, but can I ask you one thing?"

"Sure. What?"

"How did you know there's a treadmill in Rick's
apartment?"

Yvonne burst out laughing. "Is that what got you
going?" She shook her head. "Honey, you're the queen
of jumping to conclusions. I've never been there.
Never seen it. Rick got the thing when he turned thirty.
He started complaining about picking up a few extra
pounds, or something like that. He talked about that
treadmill on the air for weeks. Milked it for all it was
worth."

Christie waved it away. "I'm sorry. I just
wondered..."

"Rick and me?" Yvonne shook her head. "No. Not ever. We kid around sometimes, but that's because it's
just a joke. Rick's the most professional guy I've ever
worked with. It's kind of like on Star Trek. Rick is
Captain Kirk, and the station is his Starship Enterprise."

"So what does that make me? Space bimbo of the
week?"

Yvonne laughed. "Oh, Christie. I love you."

"Great," Christie said. "Under company policy, you
I can date."

This time they both laughed.

"Thanks for listening, Yvonne. I'm sorry I was such
a-"

"Forget it. You've been dragging this thing around
for weeks."

"So, what if you were in my shoes? What would
you do?"

Yvonne squinted pensively. "Either let the guy drag
me off by my hair..."

Christie shook her head. Rick wasn't volunteering
to do that, anyway.

"Then I'd find someone else to fall for, fast. Or I'd
start sending demo tapes to other stations."

That night, Christie loaded a cassette into the air
check machine in the studio. She'd improved a lot in
the last couple of months, and if she was going to find
another job, this demo tape had better be good.

In the days that followed, Christie sent out tapes and
became a master at avoiding Rick around the station.
There was no point in risking any further contact. She wasn't sure what she was more afraid of: another
blowup, or of how she'd react if he were nice to her.
Those Christmas kisses-and everything leading up to
them-had some long-term repercussions. Too many
things carried some reminder of him. Everything from
Chinese food to her car, which now started with a roar,
thanks to the alternator the garage had replaced at a
suspiciously low price.

The nights alone in the studio were the worst. All
her life, music had pulled at her emotions. Now it hit
her so hard she felt like she was missing a layer of
skin. The sad love songs were too close to home, while
the happy ones mocked her with images of lovers
climbing the skies as high as the highest star. At least
"Key Largo" was off the play list, after an inordinately
long stay. It had shown up in the rotation of songs
shortly after that conversation at Rick's apartment,
when she'd told him about her early obsession with
Bogie and Bacall. Christie had finally asked Yvonne
to take it off.

Then there were the commercials. Rick was on far
too many of them for Christie's taste. One minute, he
was coaxing her out for an evening of fine dining; a
few minutes later, he was promising her the deal of a
lifetime on a used car. The fact that he was just as
convincing on either one should have told her something, she thought. The eternal chameleon, he could
change color as the situation warranted.

At first, Christie sent resumes and tapes to radio
stations on the West Coast, but she quickly broadened her search. She was prepared to move to Podunk, Iowa
if she had to.

What she wasn't prepared for, on the day of her
first live appearance, was to arrive at the station and
find Rick already loading the van.

ccHey, I'm supposed to be doing that." She approached the van, wary of this latest new wrinkle.

"Just giving you a head start." Rick lifted a crate
full of extension cords. "Don't worry, I'll be letting
you do all the setup. So the earlier we get there, the
better."

Her worst suspicions were confirmed. "You're coming along?"

"Who else?" Rick smiled. Either he had amnesia,
or he was a gifted actor. "I don't see any reason to
bring another full-timer in on a Sunday afternoon. Remember, program directors have no lives." He lifted a
speaker and loaded it in. The other one, she noticed,
was already inside. His memory was working, all
right.

Like Christie, Rick was wearing a station staff shirt,
but his definitely fit him better, the sleeves hugging
his upper arms as he loaded in another crate. Christie's shirt had just come in last week, silk-screened with
her name and the blue and gold KYOR logo. It had
been a minor thrill to put it on for the first time, but
the manufacturer definitely had a different idea of
"small" than she did. The sleeves hung down to her
elbows, and the shirt itself was so long it nearly covered her bottom. She'd done her best to tailor it by
tucking it in and cuffing the sleeves.

"You don't have to do this," she said. "Yvonne took
me along on her broadcast at the clothing outlet last
week. She walked me through the whole thing." In
spite of her arguments, Christie knew that having
backup on her first live appearance made sense. She
also knew that having Rick there would make her a
nervous wreck.

"You can't be too safe," he said, still unperturbed.
"Believe me. There are a lot of little things that can
go wrong. I've seen power go out on the equipment,
microphones die... and don't tell her I told you, but
on Yvonne's first remote, she locked herself out of the
van."

"Okay," she said. As if she'd ever had any choice.

Christie got busy helping him load, determined to
carry her own weight, literally and figuratively. When
all the equipment was inside, she closed the back of
the van and took the keys. For the first time, Rick
showed what might have been faint discomfort. Apparently, it went against his male instincts to let her
drive. Well, too bad.

But he still held the driver's door open for her, and
she sighed inwardly. Male instincts indeed.

She'd been worried about what to say during the ten-minute ride in the van, but Rick took care of that
with a running commentary of what to expect when
she got there. Christie did her best to concentrate, but
it wasn't easy. The front of the van was roomy, but
Rick seemed to fill it completely with his long legs,
his voice, and his presence.

"You should have a pretty big crowd," he said.
"They're having dollar burgers the first hour. And
when that dies down, I got hold of a few pairs of
movie passes for giveaways."

She glanced at him sideways. "Thanks." Movie
passes were always a good draw. Plus, a hamburger
restaurant at lunchtime was a natural. And with dollar
burgers...

She'd look incredibly stupid if she managed to mess
it up.

When he ran out of information just before they
reached the remote, Rick shifted uncomfortably in the
passenger seat. He'd bowed to the situation and let her
drive, but it felt wrong. He was the man; he should
drive. But she was the disc jockey; it was her remote.
He sneaked another sidelong glance at Christie in her
new, oversized station shirt. With some tucking, she'd
managed to keep it from looking like a tent, but its
bulky shape just emphasized how small and slender
she was. Rick sighed inwardly. The baggy shirt was
further proof that she could distract him no matter
what she wore. Just one more reason he would have
preferred to drive; it would have forced him to keep
his eyes on the road. He looked through the windshield
and tried to occupy his mind by thinking of natural
disasters. Income tax forms. Boy Scout knots.

As long as this situation went on, that was what he
had to do.

"... Now, mount the speakers in the stands, carefully
... Rick narrowed his eyes at her as they set up the
equipment. It was the first time either of them had referred, directly or indirectly, to the speaker incident.

He seemed to be playing it for laughs. Christie took
a chance. "Absolutely," she agreed. "Wouldn't want
to hurt the speakers." She threw in a smile to show
she was kidding, too.

Christie attached the first speaker to its mount on
the metal pole. Rick held the stand steady, but otherwise let her do the work. She made sure it was secure
before she let go.

When it held, she asked, "How's the foot?"

"Fine. Just don't step on my toes. Next speaker."
There was no inflection in his voice. He handed her
the second stand to set up.

She pulled up the collapsible pole of the stand to
its full height, about a foot shorter than Christie. It
reminded her of a tent pole. "This makes me think of
camping," she said.

Rick's eyebrows lifted. "You're not going to tell me
you're a woman who actually likes camping."

"I love it. I just went a few times, with my boyfriend
in college."

"And this manly man had you setting up the tent?"

"Well, I helped." She giggled at the memory. "Although one of us didn't do a very good job. One night
in Yosemite, the tent fell down."

"I see." He studied her. "The tent just sort of fell down. " His face was a perfect deadpan, but his eyes
glimmered, implying all sorts of tent-shaking shenanigans.

"It did! We weren't-I mean-" She felt herself
blush, and knew any further protests would only make
it sound worse. "The point is, it was raining, and it
was too dark to fix it-"