Scoop (10 page)

Sam’s tongue appeared to trace his inner cheek. Then he said, “You should ask her out. You really should.”

Ray avoided Sam’s eyes again. He didn’t know what to say, how much to admit. Sam wasn’t making this statement as a friend. It was almost a taunt.

“You might want to brush up on your Torah though,” Sam said.

“I don’t need to. I read it regularly.”

“No kidding,” Sam said, feigning surprise. “Well, good for you. Say hello to Moses for me.”

“I will. As soon as I’m finished watching the sunset. I hear the cirrus clouds are going to be perfect this weekend.”

“I don’t give up that easy.”

Ray tried to ease up a little. He didn’t want a fight brewing over Hayden. “Look, Sam, it’s not you. She just wants someone who is interested in the same things she is.”

“I’m not going to let some old fogy with a special talent for parting bodies of water stand between me and a beautiful woman.” Sam grinned. “I’m a fast learner. It won’t be long before I’ll be dishing out some impressive Bible quotes.”

“Good luck finding the CliffsNotes.”

Sam didn’t look amused but luckily must have decided the conversation wasn’t worth the effort and left. Ray blew out a relieved sigh. He’d held a good poker face, but the fact of the matter was that he was in real need of brushing up on his Torah and everything else in the Bible. He attended church regularly but rarely cracked open his Bible. Luckily for him, as a child, his parents dragged him to church every Sunday, so he had a basic understanding of it. He could even name the books of the Bible…if he could sing the little jingle that went along with it.

Ray left his desk and went to find Roarke. He was at the assignment desk, monitoring all the scanners and radios. “This is great,” Roarke said. “Some old lady is giving fits to this police officer for pulling her over. You should hear the chatter. I am cracking up. The officer is asking for backup. The lady is ninety-four years old!”

Ray leaned on the counter that encircled Roarke. “I’ve got a problem.”

“What?”

“Sam just asked Hayden out.”

“Leege? Are you kidding me? She doesn’t seem his type.”

“She’s not. But Sam isn’t going to take no for an answer.”

“She turned the metrosexual down?”

Ray laughed. “In a big, bad way. She basically told him he wasn’t spiritual enough.”

“Whoa. Never heard that one before, but that’s gotta sting. Especially since it can’t be purchased at Bloomingdale’s.”

“You know how competitive Sam is. He’s apparently going to memorize Scripture passages to romance her.”

Roarke shook his head. “What happened to the old days when a rosebud and a hot fudge sundae were enough?” He sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you, dude. I’ve got my own woman problems.”

“Really? What’s wrong?”

Roarke turned down the volume on a couple of his scanners. “Something weird’s happened to her.”

Ray looked around, trying to figure out who was Roarke’s crush.

“She’s the same, but different. I can’t put my finger on it, dude.”

“What could’ve changed?”

“I don’t know. But there’s something off. I won’t lie. I’m worried about her.”

“Look, Roarke, I told you my crush, now you need to tell me yours.”

“Dude, people don’t use the word ‘crush’ anymore.”

Ray couldn’t argue with that. But “hot for her” sounded a little awkward after discussing the spiritual standards he would have to rise to.

Roarke waved his hand. “Doesn’t matter. Whatever. She won’t give me the time of day anyway. It’s a pipe dream. I’ll never get a date with this lady.”

“Don’t give up that easy.” Ray sighed. “At least you don’t have homework.”

T
hings were getting better and better as the day went on. It started at about six, when Gilda finally made her way into work. There were whispers, then rumors, and then it was the topic of conversation on everyone’s lips. Hugo had tried to remain neutrally uninterested, showing little emotion as each tidbit of information came to him. But inside, he was wiggling with astonishment. His plan had actually worked. At least in reverse. Or something. He wasn’t exactly sure how it all came together, but the important thing was that it had.

Or at least that’s what he’d heard. He had yet to verify the rumors, which in the news business was one of three sins. Deadly ones, anyway.

He could see Gilda’s dressing-room door from his glass-encased office, and he had watched her walk in there forty-five minutes ago. From what he could tell, she’d been alone for fifteen minutes now. It was time to see for himself.

His legs felt a little wobbly as he left his office and circled the newsroom, heading toward her dressing room. Too many people had claimed to see the evidence for it to be just a rumor.

At her dressing-room door, he took a deep breath before knocking. He didn’t want to seem too enthusiastic, but he also wanted to be complimentary and supportive. This was going to take finesse.

“Enter,” he heard. Slowly, he opened the door. He could see the back of her hair and a little of her face, but her dressing-room lights were so bright, he was nearly squinting at the reflection in the mirror.

“Hugo,” she said and turned on her stool.

Without the glaring lights now, Hugo got a good look at her, and as best he could, he suspended the steadiest, most even-keeled smile on his
face. His eyes desperately wanted to widen, but he commanded them to freeze in place. This was better than he could’ve expected. She looked ten, no, fifteen years younger. Instantly. It was like he’d traveled back in time.

And for the first time in years she looked genuinely happy. Really, really happy.

“Hi,” Hugo said.

She drew her hands up to her face. “Satisfied?”

Hugo played it cool. “With?”

“Let’s not play games here, Hugo. I know this is what you wanted. What you’ve wanted for a long time.”

“It’s not what you want?” he asked.

Gilda seemed to ponder the question. “No. But”—she glanced at herself in the mirror—“I do look good.”

Hugo cracked a smile. “Gilda, you look amazing. Not that you didn’t before, but I mean…” He was truly speechless and gestured with his hands to try to find a word that meant the impossible had become possible in the most superficial way imaginable.

Gilda didn’t seem to share the excitement quite as much. She was smiling. At least her mouth was. And there did seem to be a satisfied shimmer within her eyes. But she was not ecstatic like Hugo was trying not to be.

“We’ve got a big night tonight,” Hugo said. The timing couldn’t have been better. “Ray’s attack is all over the news. They even covered it briefly on the national news. This is our chance, Gilda. It’s our chance to prove that we’ve got what it takes to be the number one news station.”

Gilda’s expression didn’t change, but she nodded as if she understood. “How is Ray?” she asked.

“He’s fine. He’s here. Did a great interview with us this morning. It’s going to be a hit. We’re ready to roll, and you’re going to be the star who gets us there. Tate doesn’t have the experience to carry this like you do, Gilda.”

“I won’t let you down, Hugo. I never have.”

And it was true. Gilda always came through during tough situations. She was highly dependable and always at her best—which would’ve carried her even farther had she been able to hold her collagen.

Nearly overwhelmed with emotion, Hugo stuck out his hand for Gilda to shake. She looked at it like she’d just witnessed the Nessie emerge from the loch. Hugo knew people weren’t used to seeing him emote, but sometimes in life, there’s cause for celebration.

Gilda shook his hand gingerly, as if she were afraid he might lunge forward for a hug. But he minded himself and stepped toward the door.

“We’ll have the script for you in an hour or so,” he said.

“Okay.”

Hugo opened the door, and she said, “Good luck, Hugo. I know this is a big night for you.”

“For all of us. We’re going to do great.”

He stepped outside, and for the first time in months and months, Hugo Talley felt hopeful.

Gilda couldn’t stop touching the space between her eyebrows. She had yet to feel anything except numbness, but she could hardly believe that deep line that refused to leave, even when she smiled, had vanished. In its place was smooth, supple skin. Even the lines around her eyes were gone, and the two creases on either side of her nose. The doctor explained she could experience some swelling and redness, but so far none of that had happened.

She’d been studying the script for the evening carefully, though it wasn’t in its final draft. Still, there was a lot to this story, and Gilda wanted the transitions to be smooth and her delivery to be perfect. She decided to take a break and get some coffee, despite the warning about it after her
teeth-bleaching session this afternoon. She couldn’t live without coffee, even if it meant her teeth looked a little dull.

In the break room, she was delighted to discover a fresh pot in the coffeemaker. She poured it into her favorite lipstick-stained mug and was stirring in cream when the door flew open and Tate bolted in.

“I’m nervous,” he said. “At first I thought I was coming down with the flu, but I think it’s nerves.” He looked genuinely baffled. “I’ve only felt like this one other time, when a bungee rope got tangled around my neck.”

Gilda reached for his hand. “Dear, you’ll do fine. I’m here with you. It’s just like riding a bike. Or in your case, a snowboard off a cliff.”

“Hugo keeps saying, ‘Don’t mess this up,’ and I’m going to mess it up.”

Gilda set her mug down and cupped his shoulder. “You’re not going to mess it up. You must think about it like any other news day.”

“Skydiving is easier than this. There’s a rip cord you pull to open your chute. If that doesn’t work, you pull another one. If that doesn’t work, well, you’re dead. But you’ve pretty much done all you can do.” Tate shook his head. “There’s so much to keep track of here.”

Gilda realized it was a lot for Tate to process. He wasn’t really the multifaceted type, at least as far as his mind was concerned.

Although she felt the pressure, too, she had a hard time understanding why someone who could jump out of an airplane was feeling nervous about reading from a TelePrompTer, but she tried to remain encouraging. “That’s what being an anchor is all about. You have to keep your cool under pressure. Sure, most nights you’re trying to make news out of the most mundane of things. But there are those shining moments in your career when real news happens, Tate. And that’s what you’ve been practicing for. All those nights that you’ve stared into that camera lens, faithfully reporting the day’s events, have prepared you for this moment.”

Tate stared at his feet. “You’re amazing.” He glanced at her. “I don’t know how you do it. In the middle of such a stressful situation, you stand there so calm, smiling even.”

She was smiling? She hadn’t thought she was smiling. Huh. Botox really was miraculous.

“You look great by the way,” he added.

“Thanks, honey. You’re kind to say so. Now, the best way to shine, and not in the oily pore sort of way, is to be prepared. Have you been studying your script?”

“Yes. I throw it to commercial, and I welcome everyone back, I pitch the weather and the sports, but…well, most of the lines are yours.”

“Hey, who would Penn be without Teller, right? Sometimes the silent guy does the talking without ever saying a word.”

Tate nodded and left in a contemplative mood. Gilda followed him into the newsroom, stirring her coffee. As people looked her way, a few gave a thumbs-up. Others simply pretended nothing unusual was going on, even though they were staring like she’d grown a third eye. Well, if she had, she was sure there was some sort of injection for that too.

Hayden happened by, and before Gilda knew it, she’d reached out and taken her by the arm, pulling the girl beside her.

“Yes?” Hayden asked.

“Look, I know we had that little heart-to-heart about aging and all of that, but you have to understand the position I am in. Truthfully, you could never really understand my position. But I did this of my own accord. I’ve been pressured for years.
Years.
This was my decision, and my decision alone. Nobody made me do this.”

“Ms. Braun, it’s really none of my business.”

“None of your business? What about all that beauty-is-on-the-inside talk?”

“Well,” Hayden said, with a preemptive sweetness, “some people prefer to wear their beauty on the outside, I guess.”

“Sure. Why not, right?” Gilda lifted her coffee mug in the air in a toasting gesture.

“It’s just that on the inside, it can’t be damaged by UVB rays.” Hayden
gave her a knowing wink and walked off. Gilda sighed and wished her the best, and a few premature sunspots to go along with it.

She was walking toward her dressing room when she saw Hugo rush out of his office, holding a piece of paper in his hand. He was gathering everyone to the center of the newsroom. He looked frantic, or excited. She couldn’t really tell what was wrong with him, but she wasn’t used to seeing Hugo this emotional.

“Hurry up,” he beckoned, and pretty soon everyone was hushed and huddled.