″Tell the desk not to put me on anything today. I′m here today, but not really,″ I announced to Rob, the studio director. He was dubbed Jumpy Rob for the way he constantly ejected from his seat in the control room while screaming camera directions into his headset.
Rob didn′t even look up from the TelePrompTer scripts he was laying out on a large desk in the middle of the bullpen.
″Gallagher, here today but not really,″ he echoed. ″Doing a little legwork on your bikini story, are you?″
″It′s not a bikini story,″ I retorted. ″I′m doing a five-part series about weight-loss scams.″
″But the bikini′s the money shot.″ He bent his head low to sniff at a page of script. ″What′s this?″
Picking up the script between two disdainful fingers, he demanded of the newsroom at large, ″Someone calls this an intro?″
As Rob crumpled the offending intro into a ball and tossed it into a trash can, I trudged across the carpeted floor to my cubicle and threw my purse at the desk. My aim was off, and it thumped against the cubicle wall.
″Hey!″ Crystal protested from the other side of the wall. ″You made me spill my double espresso. ″
Crystal is a former public defender who traded in her attorney briefs for an on-air career as a legal reporter. The camera loves her quartz gray eyes and caramel complexion. She′s the only one of us who dares to go on the air without foundation.
Poking her head over the cubie wall, Crystal said, ″Bad day already?″
Then taking a look at my face, she added, ″Uh-oh. We′ll talk as soon as I finish this script.″
I couldn′t muster a reply as I checked my cell phone messages. One from Evelyn was marked urgent. She said there was going to be a gathering of the Newbodies later that day in the Duke Forest. The Newbodies were going to have a Memory Ceremony to honor Jana.
Frank poked his head into my cube. Frank′s my favorite videographer. He′s only five foot six, but he′s got the muscled shoulders and bulldog stance of a heavyweight.
″I′ve been looking for you, Kate,″ he said. ″What the heck happened between you and Lainey last night? The overnight crew said she was stomping around this morning, claiming you made her screw up her carjacking story. She says you told the police not to speak to her.″
Stifling a grin, he added, ″Beatty was all over her ass because we got scooped by news radio.″
″A friend of mine was killed in that carjacking, ″ I replied. ″Lainey and her scoop can go piss in the goddamn wind as far as I′m concerned.″
Frank′s expression turned serious. ″I′m really sorry to hear about your friend,″ he said. ″I heard there were two victims. I heard that on the radio, mind you.″
″Her daughter′s alive but still in the hospital. In fact, I need to head back over there to be with her. I guess I′m not thinking straight-I can′t even remember why I came in here right now.″
My voice dissolved into something dangerously close to a sob. It′s always been a point of pride with me never to cry in front of my colleagues. But Jana′s murder and the abysmal phone call with Jonathan had spun my world on its axis. I felt spent and dangerously off-kilter. The floodgates of emotional hell had swung wide open, and the devil dogs were on the loose.
Crystal must have heard the SOS in my voice, because suddenly she also materialized in the opening to my cubicle. ″Time for a confab in the ladies′ room,″ she said, shooing Frank away. ″Let′s go.″
We retreated to the ultimate sanctuary-the handicapped stall in the women′s restroom.
″Tell me about what′s going on, sweetie,″ she said. ″Is it about your friend? I heard there was a carjacking overnight. I know that must be upsetting. ″
Crystal unwound a length of toilet tissue and handed it to me. In moments of stress, Crystal has a calm, maternal side that′s oddly comforting. You feel like you could lean your head against her shoulder and cry your eyes out, and everything would be better.
″Yes, my friend Jana died. But there′s a lot more going on,″ I said, finally yielding to the sob. ″It′s Jonathan. I know it′s stupid to be upset about a guy when someone has died…″
″Nothing′s stupid when it comes to love, honey.″
″I caught Jonathan in bed with his wife this morning. According to her, they′re still married.″
″His what? His wife?″ Crystal looked confused. ″Wait-how did you catch them in bed together? I thought Jonathan was in the UK.″
″He is. It was over the phone. He sounded completely weird when I called him, and then his ex-wife-or maybe they′re still married. I don′t know, she called herself his wife-grabbed the line. Gi′s her name. She said they were f-f-fucking like l-l-love bunnies.″
″And they′re still married?″
″That′s what she said.″
″Well, don′t believe every woman who grabs a phone away from a man. But if he really was in bed with her, he should rot in hell.″ Crystal wrapped me in a hug. ″Oh, honey, I′m so sorry. Go ahead and let it out.″
″I wish Jonathan was right here, right now, just so I could peck out his eyeballs bit by bit, like a bird. I′d peck them out.″ I formed a pair of pincers with my fingers to demonstrate what I′d do to Jonathan.
″It sounds like there′s a pair of balls on the other end of him you should peck off first,″ Crystal said, her tone dry. ″Anyway, eye pecking is something you should definitely do in the privacy of home. That′s what I always do when I find out my man′s a rat. And I′ve had more than a few.″
″You have?″ I said, blowing my nose loudly into the tissue. ″It′s so hard to believe that Jonathan′s a rat. You know him, Crystal. He′s always been so perfect, such a gentleman to me. How can he be a rat?″
″Well, man-rats don′t all have whiskers and red, beady little eyes,″ Crystal said, wrinkling her nose like a mouse. ″It′s the sweet, gorgeous men like Jonathan that can really hurt you bad.″
″This is more than hurt,″ I said, perching in a doubled-over sitting position on the edge of the toilet. ″This feels like something′s changed in my DNA… like my cell structure is going haywire. Pardon me a second…″
The wrenching stomach pain had come back, worse than before. Abruptly, I dropped to my knees on the cool tile floor and turned to face the toilet. Then I threw up again. This time all I could manage was weak-sounding, raspy little heaves.
″Sorry,″ I gasped and spat into the bowl. ″This is so unbelievably humiliating.″
″We′ve all totally been there, honey. Let me take you home,″ Crystal said. ″You need to get some rest.″
″Can′t,″ I said, shaking my head. ″My friend′s daughter needs me at the hospital. Her family hasn′t gotten here yet.″
″Well, just remember you need to take care of yourself,″ Crystal said. ″You′re not in good shape yourself. That′s a heavy load you′re carrying around right now.″
As she gave me soothing pats, she said, ″Men. Sometimes I want to just ship ′em all off to Alaska. Put them out to pasture with the moose.″
Before I escaped from the newsroom, I had to endure one more blow to my system. When I returned to my cubicle, I saw that someone had dropped something on my desk. A photo.
The five-by-seven-inch picture showed an enormously obese woman. She must have been at least four or five hundred pounds and was mostly naked, with giant, dimpled thighs and layers of flesh that stretched from her chin to her ankles. Though it was almost hidden among the overlapping layers of hanging fat, you could see that she was wearing a bikini. That image alone was grotesque enough. But that′s not all there was.