Scoop (8 page)

And what thanks did she get for it?

A showcase wrinkle and a Botox offer.

With a deep and determined breath, Gilda placed her hands on the bathroom counter, leaned toward the mirror, and said, “Honey, you’ve fought the good fight. You really have. I’m so proud of you.”

With drapes drawn, Ray sat on the couch in his apartment and watched
The Price Is Right.
A large bouquet of flowers, his only company, sat next to him on the table. Hugo sent them with a card that read, “You are brave and courageous.” Ray knew the truth. He was neither brave nor courageous. He just happened to be at the wrong place at the right time—or at the right place at the wrong time, depending on your perspective. Either way, he scored big for the team and scored a nice scar by which to remember it all.

He’d tried his best to take the interview seriously and answer the questions Trent threw his way.

“Did Mr. Green say anything to you?”

“When did you first notice Mr. Green?”

“What did he do after he knocked you to the ground and kicked you?”

“How did you respond?”

“Well, I didn’t have much time to respond,”
Ray had said.
“Obviously my attention was on doing the report, and had I seen him coming, obviously I would’ve responded in an appropriate way. Obviously, Mr. Green has some issues that go beyond his obvious anger with the pigs.”

He’d used the word “obvious” in some form four times. He prayed
they’d reduce his rambling to a sound bite. “Mr. Green has some issues” would be great. Or “My attention was on doing the report.” Something that didn’t make him sound like the obvious idiot that he was.

Part of the problem was Trent’s intense shakedown. Ray tried to be polite and realize that Trent hadn’t had a real story to report since coming to the news station. But if the microphone had been shoved any closer to Ray’s face, he could’ve eaten it for breakfast.

Ray decided to stop thinking about the last twelve hours’ events. He watched Bob Barker and noticed how annoyed Bob seemed to be. How many years had the man been doing this? Did he really love his job or was he just pulling in a paycheck these days? Bob snapped at a woman jumping up and down at the prospect of winning a new camper, telling her to stand still if she wanted to hear how to play the game. Was that what he would be reduced to later in life? Snapping at people? Plastering a smile on his face and going through the motions? Ray sank into the couch. Would what happened to him last night be the kind of story he’d tell his uninterested grandchildren? “I was nearly killed by man who weighed a hundred and ten pounds.”

Ray fell over sideways into the cushions and groaned. Someone knocked on his door, and he flew upright and stood still. Surely there weren’t reporters outside. Did the rival news stations really think they were going to get a quote from him? Ha! Not a chance. As humiliating as this was, it was Channel 7’s story, and only one station would get an exclusive.

Knock, knock.

Ray held his breath. He wasn’t about to open the door and have a camera shoved in his face. Already one too many “surprised Ray” videos were floating around.

“Ray? Open up. I know you’re in there.”

Ray opened the door and Roarke stood there with a large pizza box in his hand. “Figured you’d want some company and something to drown
your sorrows in.” He held up a Coca-Cola bottle. “Don’t ask me where I found hot pizza at this time of morning.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” Ray said, opening the door wider and ushering Roarke in. Huffing and puffing, Roarke’s three-hundred-eighty-pound frame made it to the kitchen table where he set the pizza down. Ray grabbed glasses and ice, and then they both took slices to the couch where they settled in.

Ray had known Roarke for five years, and they’d hit it off from the beginning. Their relationship had survived a lot, including Roarke’s obsessive need to forward every e-mail that came across his computer and Ray’s impulsive use of the word
voilà.
Nevertheless, they’d made it five years. Roarke was the kind of person who was hard not to like. He had a huge heart, a genuine personality, and an admirable determination to better himself.

The amazing thing about Roarke was that he never let his obesity affect him negatively. He had a sense of who he was, pounds or no pounds, and nothing ever changed that.

They both kicked their feet up and started shoving in the pizza. Roarke glanced at him. “I thought it’d be a lot worse.”

“Eight stitches.”

“Yeah, but the way your feet flew up into the air, you could’ve really been hurt, dude.”

Ray sighed. “The man weighs less than my right leg. He just took me by surprise. The gash came from my head hitting the sidewalk.”

“Still.” Roarke shook his head. “I can’t tell you how freaked I was. I watched the whole thing unfold.”

“I know. You and who knows how many other people.” Ray sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it. It makes me ill.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. It could’ve happened to anyone, and that Green fellow’s a real loser for doing it. Everyone can see that. By the way, he posted bail this morning.”

“Terrific.”

“You might want to get a restraining order.”

“I am not getting a restraining order. If Mr. Green wants to come around again, bring it on. But this time, I won’t be holding a microphone and looking the other way.”

Roarke smiled. “Having some masculinity issues, are we?”

Ray shoved more pizza in his mouth and turned his attention to the game show, staring at a box of Tide priced somewhere over four dollars. Most of the time, Roarke and Ray would get together either after the newscast or the next morning to watch one of the many crime dramas that Roarke recorded on his ancient VCR or to play video games. But they tried not to play games all the time. They didn’t want to dumb themselves down. Instead, they made sure they watched at least one crime drama a week, just to keep their brains sharp.

“Dude, you are taking this way too hard. You need a date.”

“What?”

“A date. Heard of it?”

“What makes you think I need a date?”

“So you got clobbered on television. Is it the end of the world?”

Ray frowned and stared forward. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be humiliated like that, Roarke.”

“Try having to ask the station to order you a double-wide, reinforced steel chair to sit in because the other one can’t hold you anymore.”

Ray lowered his eyes. Humiliation was a part of Roarke’s everyday life. He seemed to handle it fine, so why was Ray having such a hard time

As Roarke got up for more pizza, Ray said, “So all my problems will be solved with a date?”

Roarke laid another slice in his hand. “Not necessarily, but it might lighten you up a little. Besides,” he said, making his way back to the couch, “I’ve seen how you’ve been watching her.”

“Who?”

“Dont give me that. I am, after all, the assigner. It’s my job to know everything, and I know you’ve got the hots for the new intern.” In his role, Roarke did know what was going on everywhere, but he also had an uncanny ability to know everything that didn’t relate to the news day too. He could tell you where to get “buy one get one free” Vienna sausages. He could tell you who was having an office affair. He could tell you when the copier paper was about to run out.

Ray tried an expression to indicate he didn’t have any idea what Roarke was talking about, but those wise eyes weren’t fooled.

“Don’t worry, it’s not obvious,” Roarke said. “I’ve just noticed you noticing her. And she is hot. A little weird though.”

“You think so?” Ray asked.

Roarke shrugged. “I can definitely see her being your type, but the way she goes around talking about God and the Bible and all that seems a little, I don’t know…like she might belong to a cult.”

“She’s not in a cult. She was homeschooled.”

“I’m just saying, you don’t see that kind of thing often, where a person talks openly about religion. So much. All the time. All I’m saying is that if she offers you Kool-Aid, you might want to think twice about drinking it.”

“She
is
very…passionate…about the subject.”

“But hey, man, you’re all into that too.”

“Not like that,” Ray said. “I mean, not so…you know, verbal about it.”

“She invited me to church.” Roarke smiled. “I told her I’d see her at Christmas and Easter. She did think that was funny. She has a nice sense of humor.”

“You think anyone who laughs at your jokes has a nice sense of humor.”

“That’s because they do. She said, ‘Lucky for you, God sees you year round.’ But she also told me that she was going to keep asking me until I said yes. And then she told me God loves me.”

Ray gnawed on his crust. She was cute. And she did seem to have a nice personality. But there was no getting around the fact that she made no bones about her religious views. Yet she did it with such a sweet voice, it was hard to get mad. Everyone seemed to sort of smile and make an excuse to walk away.

And she was certainly forthright. The first time they’d met, when Ray had introduced himself, she had politely introduced herself as well. He’d expected some light chitchat, but she just came right out and asked if he knew the Lord.

It was a socially awkward moment, to say the least.

He didn’t know why, but he had only nodded feebly. He was a Christian after all. But it wasn’t what he was expecting from a new co-worker as he reached for a doughnut.

Yet he had to admit there was something really attractive about her. Social skills aside, he found himself wanting to be around her. Why, he didn’t know. He didn’t need an invitation to church. He already went. He didn’t need the gospel message. He already knew it. So what, exactly, was so appealing about her

Maybe it was that she didn’t have normal inhibitions.

“Okay, man, I’m going to say it,” Roarke said, jolting Ray back to the present.

Ray looked at him. “Say what?”

Roarke paused, pressing his lips together and shaking his head.

“Maybe you shouldn’t say it,” Ray offered.

“No, I think I should.”

Ray braced himself. Whatever it was, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear it. But then Roarke said, “There’s somebody I dig.”

Ray’s mouth would have fallen open had it not been stuffed with pizza.

Roarke glanced at him. “I know, I know. It’s crazy. But this lady…she does something to me.”

“Someone at work?” Ray asked, swallowing his bite whole.

“Yeah. This lady, Ray, well, let’s just say she puts the lace in workplace.”

Ray tried to imagine who Roarke could be talking about. There were plenty of women around the station, but none of them seemed to be Roarke’s type… or particularly fond of lace. Of course, Ray didn’t really know Roarke’s type, because as long as he had known Roarke, he’d never dated anyone.

“I think that’s great, Roarke,” Ray said. “Who is it?”

“I’m not ready to say.”

“Why?”

“This lady…she’s way out of my league.”

“Roarke, as a general rule, I think all women are out of our league.”

“True. So what do we have to lose, right?”

“Just promise me you won’t use the ‘lace in workplace’ line on her.”

“That’s just man-to-man talk. I know how to treat a woman. If this woman would give me a chance, I know I could make her happy.”

“Any woman would be lucky to have you, Roarke.”

“You mean that, dude?”

“Every word.”

Roarke sighed and set down his unfinished slice of pizza. “Maybe I’ll do it. Maybe I’ll ask her out.” He turned to Ray. “I’ll do it if you will.”

“Whoa,” Ray said. “I’m not even sure Hayden is the right kind of woman for me. Like you said, she’s kind of kooky.”

“Well, whatever. I still think I might go for it. Why not, right? You’re living proof that life is fragile.”

Ray must have been feeling better, because moments before the word
fragile
would’ve propelled him back into self-loathing. “I say you should go for it.”

“Yep. It’s time to burp the Tupperware.” That was a term Roarke coined for “sealing the deal.” According to Roarke, his mother sold the stuff for years, and people actually “burped” the lids to get them sealed.

Ray went to the table for more pizza. “I’m glad you came by. You put a lot into perspective for me.”

Roarke waved his hand. “Don’t worry about last night. I mean, it’s not like the whole world knows.”

The phone rang, and Ray picked it up. “Hello?”

“Ray Duffey?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Karen Shore. I’m a producer with
Late Show with David Letterman.
We’ve seen the footage from your report last night, and we’re wondering if you would be willing to do the Top Ten List for our show tomorrow?”

H
ugo couldn’t stop smiling. It shouldn’t be, but it felt like the best day of his life. People were noticing him smile, so he dialed it down a notch, but it was hardly containable.

He’d called Ray three times to see how he was doing and update him on the fact that this was indeed the big story not only of the day but of the week. Even Chad seemed caught up in the excitement.