seven

The video editing room had an acrid, electronic smell to it. More than once, Karen Rose had suggested the need for better ventilation, but none of her immediate superiors listened. So once again, she sat in an overused-beyond-its-years secretary’s chair that groaned and squeaked with every move she made. “Get it done and get it out,” she said to herself. The video recorders and computers hummed, filling the small space with white noise that most ceased to hear five minutes after they entered the room.

The equipment was a mix of new and old. Channel 2 news was a competitor in the volatile television news market but not a wealthy one. While some stations had state-of-the-art computers and software, KTOT — known to disgruntled employees as K-ROT — had to make do with videotape decks that should have been scrapped five years ago. Frugality was the wind that drove this news ship — and it was running the organization aground. KTOT’s competitors in the Los Angeles market made stars of their news team, but not KTOT. Being part of the LA market gave it some credibility but those on the inside knew that reporters came to K TOT to pad their résumés and to stay only long enough to be picked up by some other station. Karen had often wondered if Lawrence Media, which owned the station, kept it for its tax-loss potential. That had to be it. Karen Rose worked for a station designed to be nothing more than a write-off on some executive’s ledger book.

Still, she came to work every day, investigated news stories, wrote copy, and did all the duties common to a television reporter. She also waited. Waited for her cell phone to ring or an email to arrive from another station offering her a better job. She had been waiting two years.

Turning her attention back to editing the videotape, her image, microphone close to her mouth, was motionless before her. Just thirty-two, she felt she looked older by half a decade. The woman who looked back at her wore neat brown hair to the shoulder and pale lipstick and displayed hazel eyes under gracefully arched eyebrows. Her gray, off-the-rack business jacket, matching slacks, and white blouse gave her an air of professionalism. Karen acknowledged that she was not a stunning beauty, but she was also far from being the wicked witch of the west. She was good enough to be in front of the camera, but lacked the eye-candy appeal that had become the hallmark of twenty-first century newscasting.

She made the final digital cut, ejected the videotape, and exited the dim, claustrophobic space. As the door closed behind her, she took a deep cleansing breath, attempting to evict the stale smell of the video bay.

“Is that the school graffiti piece?”

Karen looked up as her news director, Dwayne Hastings, approached. He stopped a respectful three feet away. “Yeah. A story on graffiti in LA; that’ll make the ratings spike. Sure you don’t want to save it for sweeps week?”

“Sarcasm is an ugly adornment,” Dwayne said. He stood six-two, was trim, and still had the piercing blue eyes that had made him the best known news anchor in northern California. San Francisco had been his throne and for ten years, he sat upon it with regal flair. That ended when the alcoholism he had hidden so well became known in the worst possible way. Driving drunk, Dwayne Hastings lost control of his car and slipped over the center line of a two-lane road. He lived, the mother of two in the other car didn’t. Lots of money paid to a high-price attorney kept him out of jail, but his days before the camera were over. Only KTOT would let him work in the industry and at half of what he earned before.

Karen had seen tapes of his on-air work and knew that Dwayne had changed his looks. No longer needing to keep a youthful appearance, he let the natural gray of his hair grow out and now sported a trim mustache and soul patch. It looked good on him. Although age had caught up, he was still a striking man — a striking figure whose eyes had lost the luster of life.

“Sorry, Dwayne. I guess I woke up on the wrong side of the web this morning.”

He gave a nod of understanding. They both stood with their professional feet mired in the tar of KTOT. “How come you’re doing the editing? Where’s Cindy?”

Cindy Chu served as senior cameraperson — although she preferred “camera tech.” A bright and pleasant woman who had no problem lugging out-of-date video cams around, Cindy was Karen’s first choice for work and friendship.

“She dashed home. Her son forgot his lunch. She’s making an emergency peanut butter and jelly delivery. She should be back any minute.”

Dwayne nodded. He never complained or chastised someone for taking time to meet a family need. Most KTOT employees attributed his patience to the fact that his alcoholism had cost him his family and deprived another of a mother.

“How you coming on the Women in Industry series?”

Another sore spot. Karen considered such assignments as fluff pieces. Very few viewers would tune in to see how some rich woman is making out in the business world.

“It’s going. I have my first interview this afternoon.”

“Who’s up first?” Dwayne had given her several names but left it up to her to refine the roll if she found someone more interesting.

“Judith Find of Find, Inc.”

“Ah, the new Martha Stewart. Good choice. I met her once at some charitable get-together. She’s sharp.”

“I plan to ask some hard questions.” Karen waited for the response.

“As you should. Just stay away from slander and libel.” He gave a chuckle then turned serious. “Do your best on this assignment, Karen. I know you want out of this cul-de-sac of journalism. I understand. You deserve a break and I may have a way of helping.”

Suspicion bubbled up in her. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve made a call to an old friend. I don’t have many friends left, but this guy owes me. I saved his bacon once. Only he and I know what happened and that’s the way it’s going to stay. Anyway, he’s in Seattle. Not the world’s largest market, but it’s far from being the smallest and the station is a network affiliate. It would be a great next step.”

This was out of character. “I thought you wanted to keep the team together.”

“I do. At least until I retire, but you deserve a little help. So do me proud on this and I’ll make certain the right eyes see it.”

“I … I don’t know what to say. Is something going on that I should know about?”

“Be sure you take Cindy with you. She’s the best cameraperson we have.”

Dwayne walked away leaving Karen to wonder why he so adroitly evaded her question.