WLUV Box Set: Ignited, Consumed, Burned (14 page)

“That’s my
Olympic event, Mac. Camera toss. It’s like shot put.”

He stared
at her blankly. This was not going over well.

“Uhh... I
don’t mean to throw it around, I just can’t reach the—ugh. Can you put it up
there for me?” Shelby was not connecting too well with her new photographer,
and her little attempt at humor fell flat. Horribly flat.

She
watched as Mac’s giant biceps planted the bulky camera on the shelf.

“Anything
else?”

“Yes,
there’s a Buick in the parking lot I’d like you to carry to my house.” Shelby
tried to turn on the charm with her quips, but it was not working on her new
photographer.

“See you
tomorrow.” Mac walked out of the garage, and Shelby got a good look at his ass,
just as tight as the T-shirt he wore. He was all man, but not so much with the
personality.

Either
way, tomorrow she was finally going to get to be a real reporter with a real
photographer! A real, giant, scary, photographer— but at least he wouldn’t be
like Gary, who nearly had a heart attack when she made him run up to the cars
for interviews during the snow storm.

If she
could avoid falling down in front of her new partner she’d call it a good first
day.

**

Mac wanted
to kill Macy Green. He drove his beat-up Jeep back to the hotel, fuming, and
punched her number in his phone. “Could she be any younger? I mean, is there a
daycare in the facility that she escaped from? A nursery somewhere that’s
looking for her?”

“Hello,
Mac. You know, you’re not supposed to put me on the ropes for shit’s sake. Stop
growling at me. I am the boss, remember? I’m assuming you’re talking about your
new partner…listen, she’s tougher than she looks.” Macy retorted. “She went to
U of M on a ballet scholarship. That’s not easy.”

“Right,
she’s like five feet tall and one hundred pounds of pure—
puppy
.” Mac
didn’t yell at Macy about the fledgling reporter’s lovely little curves, which
he unexpectedly had a visceral reaction to when he had his arms around her. Nor
was he going to rail about those gigantic, purple, eyes.  No, he would not yell
at Macy about that but he was damn well going to yell.

“Does she
listen? She looks to me like the kind that trips into trouble at every turn.
I’m no babysitter, Mace” Mac said.

“Well,
let’s hope she at least has more sense than a puppy. And I think she has more
balls than you’d expect. Just do your job and guide her to being better at
hers. Yes, she’s a rookie…but I think she’s got something. The look, the drive,
and she’s very persistent. Let’s see if she’s smart. Let’s see if she can tell
a story.” He heard Macy shout something to Bernie. “Listen, Mac, I wouldn’t
have wasted you on her if I didn’t have some confidence.”

“How does
dance scholarship wind up in news?” he asked.

“Knee
injury, I think. And she’s just a bit too tiny for ballet. They usually like
them five-five or so.”

“Alright.
But you know I can’t handle it if…” Mac didn’t finish his sentence.

“I know.
But you will be fine. Put her through the ringer, Mac, like you did to me once upon
a time.” Mac did give Macy holy hell when they first worked together, but she
took it and gave it right back. “I think she’ll surprise you. I’ll see you
tomorrow.” When Macy was done, she was done, and the conversation was done.

Mac had
the hotel room for two weeks, after that he’d have to find a place. But for now
the hotel was home. He took advantage of the workout facility and then a cold
shower. The water didn’t do much to wipe the image of Shelby from his mind. She
was like a pint-sized Elizabeth Taylor.

He did not
need this right now. He did not want to be in charge of keeping Shelby safe and
sound. In fact, the best thing for the fresh-faced reporter was to realize she
hated this job, find a law student somewhere and get married. The news was not
kind. He’s seen newbies like her devoured by this business— torn to shreds by
ruthless managers, by the hours, and mostly by the stories themselves.

Mac
decided his best bet was to scare the crap out of young Shelby Virtue. If he
could get her to run away, she’d be better off. He hoped she’d run away quickly
if only so he didn’t devour her himself.

The
newsroom ran on two meetings a day, one in the morning, and one at 2:30 in the
afternoon. The 2:30 meeting solidified the early reporters’ stories and then
set the agenda for the evening crews— the nightsiders, as they were called.

Photographers
were welcome, although they stayed away, as a rule, but reporters were required
to attend. Shelby was early to her first nightside reporter meeting, excited to
add her ideas.

“I’ve got
an idea, why not do a follow up on the three fires we’ve had in the South End?
They could be connected. That’s what the police said the last time I checked.
Alva said she wasn’t interested so I’m not stepping on her police beat too
much.” Shelby deferred to Alva’s greater experience with the police stories,
but she was itching to cover hard news too. She hoped with the night shift
she’d get a chance.

“Fine, I
want a quick update at six and if you can turn it for the eleven great, but
breaking news wins for later, so don’t get too attached.” Macy moved on to the
next item on the list of possible stories.

This was
also a new challenge, when Shelby worked in the morning news she’d had one
story a day. Now, as a nightsider, she might have one story early and have to
find something entirely new for the eleven o’clock newscast. Macy had WLUV
producers trained to insist on as much new material as possible for the eleven.
That meant Shelby would have to pick up her pace, learn to tell stories faster,
nail down her interviews efficiently. She relished the challenge.

She didn’t
even bother to log on to the computer at her desk. One of the ways she felt she
could shine, and even get ahead of the older reporters, was being mobile. She
did everything on her phone, from typing her scripts, shooting interviews, and
recording reports from the scene of breaking news. And she had all of her
contacts there with her at all times. Meanwhile Gordon, the political reporter,
and former anchor, had a Rolodex as big as a bowling ball on his desk and
looked down on anyone who didn’t.

She needed
to hunt Mac down and get on the road. She found him loading his station
vehicle. The winter was just starting to release its snowy grip on Grand City,
but it didn’t matter. Shelby was constantly cold, even if it was 70 degrees
out. Perpetual motion was her only defense against it. Mac seemed to not to
have that problem, his parka unzipped, his jeans well worn, and his boots
looking like they’d spent more than their fair share of time in sandy war
zones. But it all worked, like crazy it worked.

Shelby was
going to have to remind herself not to stare. Normally she was not man-crazy.
Then again, she’d never seen a man like this one…
Focus on work, work is your
friend
. If she concentrated on her job, it might help prevent her from making
a fool of herself in front of her new co-worker. This would be so much easier
if Mac was a firefighter she had to interview, and then leave. Instead, she
knew she’d be spending all her time with Mac, in close quarters. Well, maybe
thinking he was hot was better than thinking he was gross or annoying.

Shelby
greeted Mac brightly; she was excited and didn’t make any attempt to hide her
enthusiasm. “Hi there, Mac! How was your morning?” She’d try to get to know him
a bit and maybe break the ice with some small talk.

“Hrmph.
Where are we headed, what’s the story?”

Small
talk rejected
,
thought Shelby. Fine, she’d stick to business.

“Well in
the South End there’s been three suspected arson fires in seven days, and I
think we want to talk to residents and then I’m hoping to get the latest on the
investigation, maybe see if neighbors are worried.” Shelby handed Mac an
incident report with the address. She just hoped he thought her idea was good.
It had to be a halfway-decent story idea if Macy Green said it was.

“Shitty
part of town?” Mac asked her.

She didn’t
like to say that anyone’s neighborhood was shitty. She met amazing people on
almost every story she covered, South End or not. “Well they’re good people but
unemployment is…”

Mac
interrupted, “Shitty part of town.” He punched in the addresses on the station
Jeep’s GPS as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Sort of,
yes, but they’re nice.” Shelby wasn’t going to turn nasty just because her
photographer was apparently some species of grizzly bear.

“Stick
close to me. No wandering off during this or any story. That’s rule one. I
can’t get good video and herd you at the same time.” Mac didn’t look her in the
eye.

“Herd me?
I’m not a sheep. You know, I was doing this all on my own before you got here.”
It wasn’t Shelby’s
first
day.

Mac took
his eyes off the road and actually looked at Shelby for a split second. She’d
wanted attention and when he gave it to her it was scorching, whether he meant
it or not. Shelby squirmed in her seat a bit as Mac raked his eyes over her.

“You’re
right, not a sheep, more like a lamb.”

“Lamb?
Lamb
?
I’m not any type of barnyard animal for Chrissake.”

But that
was the end of the chit chat. It appeared that Mac had decided to tune her out
the rest of the way. She, however, didn’t stop bleating— ugh, talking. Screw
this guy.

**

The
neighborhood was shit. One slum-lorded house after another broken up only by
vacant properties. Mac had seen neighborhoods like it in every city in America.
In Grand City, the South End was not so grand.

They
parked on the street. Mac got out and headed to the back to the Jeep to get his
gear. Shelby made a move toward one of the houses without waiting for him. Damn
it, she’d either decided to ignore him or had the attention span of a gnat and
had already forgotten. The one good thing, he thought, even though she was a
ball of energy, was that she was small. Her quick little strides were no match
for his, so in about five steps he’d caught up with her before she had a chance
to knock on the door.

“This is
how this goes whether you’re with me or any photographer. When you knock on a
stranger’s door, you make sure I’m here, right behind you, and rolling.” Mac
over-enunciated his words, explaining it to her like she was five.

“That’s
silly. I was going to knock and see if they would talk and then you can roll if
they say yes. No need to waste time while you’re unloading. See? I’m
efficient!” Shelby’s huge eyes blinked behind her lush lashes. She smiled up at
him. Mac struggled to maintain his hard-ass demeanor. He reminded himself that
this kid needed some toughness and he was there to provide it. She needed to
think. She needed to be suspicious and not let her youthful trustworthiness get
her hurt. He shook his head no at her.

“No, it’s
dangerous. Dog, crazy person, felon, scorned wife, armed homeowner, anything
can be on the other side of that door you’re about to knock on. My camera
rolling is your force field, your evidence, your protection. And I want you to
hold this station mic with the WLUV flag visible at all times. It’s like your
badge, another deterrent to bullshit. It will also attract bullshit, but we’ll
cover that later.”

“Nothing’s
going to happen.” Shelby turned on her heel to dismiss Mac and he wanted to
shake her, but he also wanted to crush those lush strawberry-colored lips under
his.
What the heck?
He’d worked with gorgeous women before.
How did
that thought get in there?

Instead,
Mac would give her the other
reason to do it his way, the right way. He grabbed her upper arm. She flinched
at the contact. He hoped he didn’t grab her too hard. But she needed him to be
stern and teach her to curb her proclivity to rush forward into everything like
a puppy.

“So your
own safety is not a priority. How about this? Try not to be selfish.” Shelby
looked utterly confused. Good. At least she was listening.

Mac
continued, “Think about your photographer. Even if nothing happens, the sound
and video of whoever lives in that house rejecting you, yelling at you, or
appearing afraid, that’s usable. We can construct a story about you knocking on
these doors if we have to.”

Shelby
nodded, this part was sinking in.

“Part of
your assignment is you talking to people, even if they don’t go on camera. I
can show you doing that, but only if you stay in tune to where I am, and I stay
in tune to where you are. Got it?”

Shelby
opened her mouth into little “oh” shape, at least she was taking it in for half
a second. “Ah. Well, that makes sense then. No need to be so grumpy about it.”

God,
she’s adorable
, Mac thought. But he figured she’d
always gotten by with adorable. Not with him. If he let his guard down or gave
in, she’d get hurt. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

He let her
go and put a hand up to indicate “stay.”

“I’m not a
puppy.”
Did she actually read his mind
? He ignored her comment while he
hoisted the camera on his shoulder.

“Show me
your blouse,” Mac ordered.

“Excuse
me?” Her cheeks flushed as she misinterpreted his order. Mac exhaled and tried
again.

“I need to
white balance?” He nodded towards the camera.

“Oh, sure,
right. I thought you were going to give me fashion advice. Cause you know you
seem to know fashion, what with the combat boots and army surplus chic vibe.
Ha.” Mac ignored most of the words that tumbled out of her mouth. It seemed
like the sensible thing to do.

“Okay, go
on. We’re good. Go get your interview.” Mac started rolling and Shelby walked
briskly to the porch. Mac kept the focus on her.

She
knocked on the door and a scraggly woman came out, cigarette in one hand,
toddler in the other, “Yeah? You lost?” There was no way to know if the woman
was the toddler’s mother or grandmother or what. Through the camera lens Mac
focused on the eyes of the baby, haunted like they’d already seen awful things.
Mac had the back of Shelby framed in the shot, the woman and the baby in the
center.

“Hi. I’m
Shelby Virtue and I’m doing a story about all the fires in the neighborhood. Do
you think you’re in danger?” Shelby went right in with a question. That was
good. It was a yes or no question, which was not so good, but it didn’t matter
in this instance. This woman turned out to be a lucky break for Shelby’s story.

“Fuck
yeah. It’s Davie three doors down. He’s a fucking firebug and half this street
knows it but the other half is his friends or his loser mom’s family. I told
the police it was Davie and they ain’t doing shit. They don’t care if this
whole block burns down anyway.”

“Why do
you think it’s uh, Davie? Davie— what’s his last name?”

“Davie
Groll and it’s him ‘cause he’s been lighting shit on fire since he was five.
Garages, cats, cans with rags in it. It’s Davie. You don’t gotta be fucking
Sherlock Holmes to solve it. My other granddaughter lived in one of them houses.
I’m pissed and I’m about to send T.J. and them over there to kick his ass.”

“You say
he lives three doors down, the green house over there with the white shutters?”
Shelby turned to where the woman’s head indicated.

“Yep, what
channel this going to be on?”

“WLUV 10,”
Shelby answered.

“I don’t
watch that one.” Mac suspected that was a common reply when WLUV reporters told
people they were WLUV reporters.

“I
appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.” Shelby reached out to shake the woman’s
hand.

“You need
her name,” Mac said under his breath to Shelby. Rookie mistake, not getting the
name on tape.

“Can I get
you to say and spell your name?” Shelby conveyed a genuine warmth that radiated
toward the woman. Mac had only seen rarely, despite working with dozens of
award-winning reporters over the years.

“Angie
Karakas.” The woman spelled it.

“Thank you
Angie, I really appreciate it.” Mac kept rolling and the baby reached out for
Shelby. Shelby stroked the child’s cheek, ignoring the snot crusted on the
kid’s face. Through the lens he watched Angie’s eyes soften towards Shelby.

Shelby had
something important, the ability to connect with her interview subjects, to
feel empathy. It was what separated the Karen Keiths from the Macy Greens,
empathy, though Shelby would need to feel that same empathy for Davie if he
answered his door. That would be the real test, to see if Shelby could be fair.

“Alright,
let’s go.”

They
headed down the street to see if Davie Groll, the alleged South End Pyromaniac,
was home.

**

Shelby
couldn’t have walked faster than Mac if she’d tried. He was over a foot taller
than her and on a mission to get to Davie’s house. It took her two fast steps
to keep up with one of his. He moved like a panther and she was afraid her
stupid heels would trip her up and she’d fall on her face in front of him. She
had decades of training in how to be graceful but one peep toe in a sidewalk
crack and she could easily be ass-over-head in front of Mac. The man made her
nervous.