"It's called day-parting. Wouldn't want to keep your overnight audience awake."
She fixed him with a mock glare, and he grinned at her. He was going to miss her when she went back to her regular schedule. He'd been putting Christie on the air with him for more and more of his breaks as the week wore on, rather than just when they were going into the news. It was fun, and it added to the show. He and Jonathan worked together smoothly, but it wasn't like this.
"Rick?" He inclined his head, prompting her to go on. "Would you mind if I slipped out a little early tonight, after the last newscast?"
That was as late as he officially needed her to stay, anyway. He could spare her for the last half hour. "Sure." Rick picked up the log to sign off on the previous hour. He kept his eyes on the page as he scrawled his initials. "Date?" he asked her. He made the single syllable as casual as he could.
"A movie with Yvonne. It starts at seven." There was a pause. In an equally casual tone, she added, "You?"
Rick looked up from the log sheet. Christie's eyes were back on her news stories, checking over what she'd already checked over. Her eyelashes were lowered in studied nonchalance, but she was biting her lower lip, an enticing little habit that she probably didn't know drove him crazy. Right there, on the lower left corner. As if she were nibbling an appetizer Rick would love to sample himself.
"Oh," he said, "you mean, do I have plans tonight? Yes."
She looked up, and Rick caught a flicker in her eyes. Gotcha.
He squinted up at the ceiling. "Let's see, tonight it's ... Budget Gourmet. Frozen beef medallions with mushrooms."
She smiled, and her posture relaxed ever so slightly. "I see. Does the veal parmigiana know about the beef medallions?"
They both laughed.
"Want to use that, next break?" Christie asked.
"Sure." Rick had laid out two basic ground rules for their on-air banter. One, he was never referred to as the boss, he was just another hapless jock. Two, he was fair game. In fact, if the jokes were on him, so much the better. Rick pulled on his headphones and got back to work, watching Christie as she did the same.
He knew he was playing with fire. But it served her right for biting her lip like that.
The week flew by.
Christie's mornings with Mark McKeon were every bit as bad as Rick had warned. He was arrogant and dismissive, never speaking to her on the air and rarely at any other time. He obviously considered her news an interruption of his show; Christie wondered if he was any more civil to Jonathan.
The afternoons made up for it though. Being in the studio with Rick kept her on her toes in more ways than one, but she was learning. Their breaks together after the news kept getting better. No elaborate, scripted comedy bits, just simple, light banter. All things considered, Christie hated to see the week come to an end.
She was passing through the lobby on Friday, just before her two P.M. air shift, when a woman walked in the front door with a small boy. The receptionist wasn't up front, which wasn't unusual. At first, Christie had thought the girl was lazy, but that was before she found out how many other tasks Karen was pulled away from her desk to do.
Christie, in turn, had learned a thing or two about helping out at the front desk. "May I help you?"
"Is Rick here?" the woman said without preamble, and those three words brought the woman and boy into sharp focus.
She had never consciously tried to picture Rick's ex-wife, but somehow, this was just what Christie would have expected. She was tall, blonde and very pretty, with light blue eyes. At the moment she wore a preoccupied expression. The boy looked about six years old, with light brown hair. A dinosaur backpack hung loosely on his arm.
"Rick? He's out on a live appearance." Christie's clerical smile never deserted her. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
The blonde looked even more distracted. "When will he be back?"
Christie glanced at her watch, and remembered she was well aware what time it was: ten minutes before she was due to go on the air. "The remote ends at two, and it's just a few blocks away. I imagine about fifteen minutes."
"Oh." The woman put her hands on the little boy's shoulders. "I have to get back from my lunch break. Can I leave him with you?"
As if he were a UPS package, she thought. Christie's gaze shifted down to the solemn little face. Blue eyes, but darker than his mother's. "Would that be all right with you, hon?" Christie asked.
The boy shrugged. "Sure."
"Thank you." The former Mrs. Fox squeezed his small shoulder with a well-manicured hand and was quickly out the door.
Well, this was awkward. Christie glanced at her watch again, not surprised to find it was now eight minutes to two. She smiled at the boy. "Have a seat."