Love on the Air(36)

And she was ignoring him for all she was worth.





There was a rattle of glass and metal as the outside door by the studio was propped open, with a little more noise than necessary. Judging by the clatter, Rob was back from his live remote broadcast. Soon Rob was loudly schlepping the first load of equipment down the hall and back to its storage place in the transmitter room.

Inside Yvonne's office, Christie and Yvonne grinned at each other. "Think Rob's hinting he could use a little help?" Yvonne said.

Christie had helped to load up for a few remotes herself, and most of the equipment wasn't that heavy. "My heart bleeds for him."

"That'll be you in a couple of weeks," Yvonne said.

"What?"

"Your first live broadcast. It's in about two weeks. Didn't Rick tell you?"

Rick hadn't told her much of anything lately, al though he'd been a study in casual friendliness for the past few weeks. He never failed to greet her in the hallway, and he always seemed to have some little piece of small talk handy-always pleasant, always brief, and never about anything that mattered. She knew he was going out of his way to show her they could still be friends. Some days she almost expected him to give her a buddy-buddy punch in the arm: No hard feelings, right? Hey, how about those Dodgers?

It was so easy for him to pick up as if nothing had ever happened. It didn't say much for her. On bad days, it still hurt. On good days, Christie could work up a healthy case of resentment, and that helped. He'd been the one to take them in a direction they never should have gone. And then, when it was over and he came to his senses, he simply stepped back, shrugged, and moved on. She'd long since concluded that Bing had simply been a pat on the head, a little dose of holiday guilt. It didn't stop her from taking good care of him; she bought him a larger bowl and some bigger, shinier rocks. After all, why blame an innocent turtle?

And whenever Rick greeted her in the hallway, Christie was always careful to respond in kind. She kept her replies bright, cheerful, and short. Remembering her New Year's resolution, she refused to let it drive her crazy. But in its own way, the bland friendliness was worse than the old days when he'd barely spoken to her at all.

Somehow, in the midst of all those little chats about the weather, he'd neglected to mention a major milestone like her first live remote broadcast.

"Are you serious?" she asked Yvonne. She felt a now-familiar knot of excitement, laced with panic.

"I've seen that look before," Yvonne said. "Relax. You know you can do it."

Christie grinned. "It's okay. I finally figured out it's part of the process with me. I have to panic before I try something new. You know, I still have this little moment of terror before I go on the air. I kind of like it. It's like slaying a dragon every night."

Rick chimed in from the doorway. "Have you had "The Dream" yet?"

His appearance in here was a little unusual, but Christie tried not to act surprised. Just another round in the game of playing normal. "The Dream?"

"That's what we call it," Yvonne said. "I think every jock has it sometimes."

Rick had taken his old favorite stance, leaning against the door frame, arms folded. A sheet of paper dangled from one hand. "It's this recurring dream, where you're on the air and the music runs out. Over and over. Sometimes it feels like it goes on for hours."

"Everybody has that?" Christie said. "I started having that back when I was in broadcasting school."

"I had a new version a couple of months ago," Yvonne said. "The Christmas music kept coming on, no matter what I put in the CD player."

"And it never goes away, " Rick said ominously. "I've got a friend from the old college station who's been teaching math for nearly ten years, and he still has it." He strolled to the photocopier and loaded the sheet of paper into the machine.

Well, that hadn't been so bad. Probably their longest conversation since Christmas Eve, and Christie felt almost normal. Maybe she was getting the hang of this just-friends thing.

Then she noticed he was wearing jeans, and frowned. Rick never wore jeans to work. These weren't the same ones she'd seen that night at his apartment, but they made his legs look just as long and lean. Stop it. She wasn't supposed to notice things like that. Christie went back to opening a new CD from the afternoon mail, pulling the tab on the brown padded envelope with a long, slow rip.

"Hey, legs," Yvonne said easily. "Been back on the treadmill lately?"

"Not really," Rick said. "Just lost a couple of pounds."

Just like that, any delusions of normalcy went out the window. Sure. Yvonne could flirt with Rick all she wanted. Christie's mind erupted with useless jealousy. She tried to ignore it, but it was like having a blender turned on inside her. Idiotic thoughts whirred through her head and wouldn't shut up. Yvonne knew about the treadmill. Which meant she'd probably been in Rick's apartment, too. He probably made passes at every female who worked for him.