talking to her from the control room. “Oops, they’re calling me to do my teasers.” She scurried back over to the main news desk.
Alaine sat and watched the woman only five or six years older than herself record her first promo spot. Bekka—petite with looks that could still pass for a teenager when she didn’t have her makeup on and hair done—had managed to climb the ladder due, in part, to her connections but also in large part because she was good at her job. Alaine still struggled to figure out how to get the executives to realize that she, too, had the potential to become an anchor.
She let the whine reverberate in her head as a prayer, begging God to make them give her a chance to prove herself.
Back at her desk, though tempted to get online again and do more research on legal recourse for her parents, Alaine applied herself to her work. First order of business: calling tomorrow’s guests, confirming their arrival time, and answering any last-minute questions.
The call to Bekka’s husband was quick. He’d done his segment once a month for the past two years. The contractor wanted to know what kinds of things he could bring in for demos, so she invited him to come half an hour early to see what would work and what wouldn’t. She saved the call to LeShon Murphy until last.
When she’d booked the twenty-nine-year-old entrepreneur a month ago, she’d done so grudgingly. She’d read his interview in Bonneterre Lifestyles and seen the response it had generated from readers from their comments online.
Her conversation with Mother yesterday came back and made Alaine more than a little curious about his service. She pulled up the contact entry for him on the computer and dialed his number.
“This is Shon.” The few times she’d talked to him, he’d always sounded breezy and casual. No difference today.
“Mr. Murphy, it’s Alaine Delacroix from Channel Six. I hope I’ve caught you at a good time.” She leaned her elbows on her desk and supported her forehead on her free palm, her back starting to ache between her shoulders.
“Yes, Alaine. Please, call me Shon. Are we still on for tomorrow?”
“We are. Do you need directions to the studio?”
“No, no. Our offices are just a few buildings down from y’all.” Amusement laced his deep voice.
She could have kicked herself. Right there on the computer screen was the address. Now that she thought about it, the last time she’d talked to him, they’d discussed his proximity to the studio and the fact that he could just walk over.
“Right. Do you have any other questions?”
“Nope. Think I’m good.”
“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow around eleven thirty, then.” They exchanged farewells, and Alaine hung up, feeling like a complete idiot.
Before she made a total fool of herself tomorrow, she opened her Internet browser and went to Let’s Do Coffee’s Web site to find out how the program worked. She took notes and wrote questions to ask Shon tomorrow on air. The more she read about how his system operated, the more intrigued she became.
“Alaine, are you ready to meet about the remotes for next week—what are you doing?”
Alaine quickly minimized the screen to hide the personality profile she’d been filling out as part of the membership application process. “Just research for tomorrow’s guest. I’m ready for the meeting.”
She hid her grin until Pricilla turned to precede her to the small conference room. Yes, Alaine Delacroix was ready for a meeting: meeting the man of her dreams.
CHAPTER 6
“I’m sorry, sir, she’s in a meeting right now. May I take a message or put you through to her voice mail?”
He’d left her a voice mail message yesterday, after trying for more than an hour to get past the dragon guarding the switchboard. But now that Forbes had actually reached a real, live person in the newsroom, he wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip by. “Before you transfer me to voice mail, please give me
Alaine sat and watched the woman only five or six years older than herself record her first promo spot. Bekka—petite with looks that could still pass for a teenager when she didn’t have her makeup on and hair done—had managed to climb the ladder due, in part, to her connections but also in large part because she was good at her job. Alaine still struggled to figure out how to get the executives to realize that she, too, had the potential to become an anchor.
She let the whine reverberate in her head as a prayer, begging God to make them give her a chance to prove herself.
Back at her desk, though tempted to get online again and do more research on legal recourse for her parents, Alaine applied herself to her work. First order of business: calling tomorrow’s guests, confirming their arrival time, and answering any last-minute questions.
The call to Bekka’s husband was quick. He’d done his segment once a month for the past two years. The contractor wanted to know what kinds of things he could bring in for demos, so she invited him to come half an hour early to see what would work and what wouldn’t. She saved the call to LeShon Murphy until last.
When she’d booked the twenty-nine-year-old entrepreneur a month ago, she’d done so grudgingly. She’d read his interview in Bonneterre Lifestyles and seen the response it had generated from readers from their comments online.
Her conversation with Mother yesterday came back and made Alaine more than a little curious about his service. She pulled up the contact entry for him on the computer and dialed his number.
“This is Shon.” The few times she’d talked to him, he’d always sounded breezy and casual. No difference today.
“Mr. Murphy, it’s Alaine Delacroix from Channel Six. I hope I’ve caught you at a good time.” She leaned her elbows on her desk and supported her forehead on her free palm, her back starting to ache between her shoulders.
“Yes, Alaine. Please, call me Shon. Are we still on for tomorrow?”
“We are. Do you need directions to the studio?”
“No, no. Our offices are just a few buildings down from y’all.” Amusement laced his deep voice.
She could have kicked herself. Right there on the computer screen was the address. Now that she thought about it, the last time she’d talked to him, they’d discussed his proximity to the studio and the fact that he could just walk over.
“Right. Do you have any other questions?”
“Nope. Think I’m good.”
“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow around eleven thirty, then.” They exchanged farewells, and Alaine hung up, feeling like a complete idiot.
Before she made a total fool of herself tomorrow, she opened her Internet browser and went to Let’s Do Coffee’s Web site to find out how the program worked. She took notes and wrote questions to ask Shon tomorrow on air. The more she read about how his system operated, the more intrigued she became.
“Alaine, are you ready to meet about the remotes for next week—what are you doing?”
Alaine quickly minimized the screen to hide the personality profile she’d been filling out as part of the membership application process. “Just research for tomorrow’s guest. I’m ready for the meeting.”
She hid her grin until Pricilla turned to precede her to the small conference room. Yes, Alaine Delacroix was ready for a meeting: meeting the man of her dreams.
CHAPTER 6
“I’m sorry, sir, she’s in a meeting right now. May I take a message or put you through to her voice mail?”
He’d left her a voice mail message yesterday, after trying for more than an hour to get past the dragon guarding the switchboard. But now that Forbes had actually reached a real, live person in the newsroom, he wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip by. “Before you transfer me to voice mail, please give me
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