Page 37 of Savannah Sweethearts

His voice grew closer. “I’m sorry, Piper. You’re stuck with me. When I found out it was you, I knew you wouldn’t want to work with me and I asked about pairing you with someone else. That was a no-go.”

I looked up to see him in a chair across from me. His elbows rested on the opposite side of the desk. A cursory glance around showed that nobody was eyeing us, thankfully.

“You were Ms. Marcingill’s cameraman?”

“For five years, yes. Before that, I worked with a small company in the city.” His jaw flexed and his eyes sought mine. “I know this might not be ideal, Piper, but I am not the same stupid kid I was back when you knew me. Actually, it was your words that helped kick my butt into gear.”

My eyes narrowed as I stared at him, but no words came to me.

There was agony in his eyes. I could see the pain in the dark recesses. “I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I started going to therapy, I got a diagnosis and I’ve been working on being more professional. Much more professional. You turned my life around and I’m going to try not to screw yours up.”

I wiped my hands on my thighs and his eyes followed the movement. “Maybe I can talk to someone. There are other producers here, right?” I stood, wondering who the right person would be to talk to.

“I’ve asked. I’ve asked the bosses and the other producers. If we’re both working here, we’re together.” He sat up and looked at me, his wild hair all over the place, matching my feelings perfectly.

Nodding, I forced a pained but pleasant expression to my face. “Right. I guess it is what it is. Don’t expect me to make this easy for you. One bad move and I’ll have you out of here within minutes.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll be taking notes on my every move.”

Not a bad idea. I pulled out a notepad and pen. “I’m ready.”

“There’s a budget meeting in a few minutes they want you at. Jump in with both feet.” He stood and rubbed his hands together. I really tried not to notice that there was not a ring on his left hand.

I followed him into a boardroom full of people, including anchors and reporters, Tyrell, and a few others I had met the previous week. There was one chair left, and a guy I had met before offered it to me. I nodded as I took it and put my notebook and pen on the table.

Mr. Andrews clapped his hand together as a few stragglers came in. “Before we start, everyone meet and welcome Piper Campbell. She’s a Savannah native, but she’s been in Richmond for the past few years. We’re happy to have you, Piper.” He did not offer me the chance to speak, so I simply nodded toward him.

I tried to look alert and attentive, but inside I was seething to have Alonso behind me. Over one hundred thousand people in Savannah and I ended up with him as a partner. How was it possible that he managed to hold down a good job at a great station like this for five years? Surely he had zero ethics or drive. Even with his speech to me about getting his act together, I couldn’t see him being a responsible adult.

“Piper, ready to get your feet wet?” A laugh escaped Mr. Andrew’s mouth and it took him a minute to recover. I wondered what was so funny about my news story.

I grabbed my pen and looked to Mr. Andrews as he calmed. “Of course.”

“We got a call about some kudzu over a telephone pole that looks like the outstretched arms of Jesus. Apparently. And it’s a blessedly s-l-o-w news day. So you and AO will head out there and see it, talk to the people who live around there. Supposedly there’s a church a stone’s throw away who claims it’s a miracle.”

A kudzu Jesus? Really? Mr. Andrews moved on to a school board meeting, drama over a restaurant, and of course, politics. The story was fluff, but I suppose it is my first day and maybe they were trying me out. Perhaps this was a sort of new girl initiation. The meeting wrapped and I followed Alonso out of the room.

We loaded into a white SUV with Action News emblazoned across the sides in bold red letters along with a graphic of lightning and the face of anchor Sam Greenfield.

The car was silent as we set out and I tried to think of what to ask people about an invasive plant that looked like a deity. Not much came to mind.

“So what have you been up to the past few years?” Alonso tried to smile as he drove.

It would serve him right if I gave him a cold shoulder, but it wouldn’t be professional. “I have been in Richmond, Virginia since I graduated, working for an affiliate up there.”

“That’s nice. Virginia is nice.”

Closing my eyes, I reciprocated the question. “You’ve only been here five years, Tyrell said. Where were you before that?” I held back from asking if he had been incarcerated.

The corners of his mouth raised and his cheeks pinked. “I had some family stuff to deal with, but I worked at SCAD in the media department.”

“I don’t recall seeing you.” My eyebrows knit together. I would have seen him if he had been on campus, especially if he was in the same buildings I was in.

“I was there.” He didn’t offer me any more insights and I didn’t ask. Alonso’s life was his, and I certainly didn’t care.

I needed to run through my vocal exercises, but I didn’t want to do it in front of the enemy. At the location of the so-called kudzu Jesus, I got out of the car and quietly started going through my exercises. For years I had recited “She sells seashells by the seashore” and “Peter Piper” to warm my voice up and help with my enunciation. It was silly, but it worked.

“Did you say something?” Alonso’s eye narrowed as he looked at me.

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