18

TV3 WAS READY for their live shot. Tom Preston had his notes prepared. Blake Summer was captivated by the entire process of watching Tom work. Sitting in the courtroom, listening to the judge admonish the defendants, getting Tom’s scribbled note, and then the scene in the hallway was overwhelming for the new reporter. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Being in the field was different. Live shots took things to a whole different level.

“Tom, we’re five minutes out. We’re going live at the top of the hour as a special report,” the director said through Tom’s IFB.

“Thanks, Greg.” Then Tom did something unexpected. “Blake, come over here.”

Blake put down the Coke she was sipping and walked over to Tom. She expected that Tom needed her for something before taking the live hit. Instead, Tom took the wireless mic off his lapel. “Here”—and he began attaching it to Blake’s blouse. “I want you to do the live shot.”

Blake’s face flushed. “Tom, I’m not prepared. This is your story. You’ve got all the notes. Tom, don’t do this.”

Tom wasn’t one to give up a story, especially one he had been working for so many years. But that is exactly what he appeared to be doing.

“You can do this. Just tell the story. Here are my bullet points. Look them over and then just tell the story.”

Blake didn’t have time to argue, nor did she want to. She wanted this opportunity more than anything, and she knew what Tom was doing, and it was okay with her.

The cameraman started counting her down—”Three . . . two . . . one”—and then he pointed at her, indicating she was on.

“Thank you, Bob.” Her morning co-anchor was anchoring the special report from the news desk. “Six defendants involved in the pyramid scheme that was busted three years ago were in court this morning to hear their fate. Judge Robinson Tate first had some words for the community leaders who got caught up in their own greed.” The station rolled the tape showing the judge lecturing each of the defendants.

“After admonishing the six, the judge then handed down their individual sentences.” The sentences were listed on the screen under each defendant’s name. “This was all part of a plea bargain between the district attorney and the defense attorneys. The judge showed leniency with a couple of the defendants, but that wasn’t the case with Roberta Sanchez, the superintendent of Desert Sands School District. She thought the whole court process was ridiculous and a waste of taxpayer money. That’s what she told us in the hallway after the proceedings.” The newscast then played the hallway interview.

“You can see the hallway interview was broken up by an unidentified man who approached Roberta Sanchez and handed her a large envelope. If you listen carefully you will hear him say, ‘You’ve been served.’ At that point, Ms. Sanchez’s lawyer came in and took her out the courthouse door.”

“Blake, any idea what was in the envelope given to Ms. Sanchez?”

The question from the anchor back at the station surprised her.

“Bob, we don’t know for sure, but the speculation is that she was served papers from her employer, the Desert Sands School District. It appears this long ordeal is finally closed for at least six of these defendants. I’m Blake Summer reporting live from the courthouse for TV3.”

“We’re clear,” called out the cameraman, meaning the live shot was off.

***

Blake could hardly contain her emotions. That was her first real live shot. She ran over and hugged Tom. And then without any hesitation she kissed him on the lips. It was the reaction Tom had hoped for, but it was not the reason he gave her the chance.

“Oh my God, this feels fantastic. My heart is beating so fast. Is this how it always feels?” Blake was talking a hundred words per minute.

“Blake, slow down a little. Look, I want to go back into the courtroom and see what’s up with Ross Mitchell.” The two gathered their stuff and walked back into the now almost empty courtroom. The judge was talking to Ross’s attorney.

“I understand your client doesn’t remember anything from the night in question. You said that’s explained by his alcohol level. And the police records show a trace of ecstasy in his system.” The judge turned his attention to the defendant. “Mr. Mitchell, do you have anything to say for yourself, or to this court?”

“Your Honor, I ask for mercy. I have no idea what I did that night. I’ve never used drugs, and I have never been drunk. I understand the evidence, but I honestly have no idea what happened that night.”

“Mr. Mitchell, you are ordered by the court to attend alcohol and drug outpatient counseling. You are being given two years of probation, and if you have no further incidences, then your record will be expunged. Do not come before me again.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

Ross and his attorney left the courtroom. Tom and Blake followed.

“Blake, give me a minute, please.”

Tom walked over to Ross, who almost hugged the familiar face but caught himself. The former station sales manager had had no contact with anyone at the station since he left. It was like no one acknowledged him at all. For Tom to take a few minutes to seek him out was almost more than Ross could take.

“Ross, how are you?”

“You’re kidding, right? I’ve seen better days, to be honest.”

“Are you working?” Tom and Ross were never close, but they did share the common bond of working at the number one local television station.

“I had to move to San Bernardino. The only job I could find was at a Cellular One store in the mall. It pays the bills.”

“What about going to another TV or radio station?”

“Once the pictures surfaced showing me in the dress and the report said I had a 2.1 blood alcohol level . . . well, I don’t think my chances of working in the media are very good.”

“It’s good to see you. Take care of yourself.” Tom shook the former sales manager’s hand. Ross held the hand an extra second.

***

Tom and Blake got into the TV3 news vehicle outside the courthouse, and without any prompting Blake practically threw her tongue down his throat in one of the most passionate kisses he had ever received. He found himself restraining her advances, quickly looking around to see if anyone saw this happening. Tom wanted Blake more than ever, now, but he always respected the fact that if he was inappropriate he could lose his job. The news job is more important than any fuck, he thought.

“Blake, not here. Someone might see us. Not in the news vehicle.”

Blake pulled back. She didn’t want to freak Tom out. She only wanted to show her appreciation for what he had done. She was smart and knew exactly what she was doing. Her eyes were set on the prize of the main anchor desk and Tom was her ticket. Her teasing him only helped draw him in more, emotionally. He would never know what hit him by the time she was done with the main anchor.