Page 25 of The Sound of Us

I spun around so fast I stumbled and almost fell into Dante, who was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, all cool and casual like he’d been there the entire time. Memories of my mortifying drunk-dial evening flashed through my mind: puking inthe bushes, the booty call, and my nonsensical ramblings as he carried me to bed.

“Dante.” Siobhan’s eyes widened and then narrowed into a glare. “What are you doing here? I thought your kind went up in flames if you were exposed to sunlight.”

“I’m also wondering why you’re here,” Noah said, tipping his head to the side in query. “My spidey senses are tingling.”

“You said you wanted me to help out.” Dante shrugged. “So here I am. I can handle all the on-air tests for all the interviewees.”

“Hmm.” Noah’s gaze flicked from Dante to me and back to Dante. “What do you say, Skye? Are you in or are you out?”

I knew what he was asking. This wasn’t just about the broadcast. It was about the job. Did I want it or not? I glanced around the office at the music posters on the wall, and then my gaze fell on Dante. “I’m in.”

“You can’t be worse than Siobhan,” Noah said, smiling. “She sobbed on the air. It wasn’t pretty.

“My cat had just died,” she snapped.

“You don’t have a cat. You’re allergic.”

“I’m allergic to you.” She sniffed and marched away.

I followed Dante down the hallway to a spacious studio painted purple, with thick gray padding on the walls in an abstract pattern. Three swivel chairs had been pushed beneath a wide birch desk that held a laptop, screens, three huge microphones, and assorted equipment. Through the glass in the room, I could see a dude in a floral shirt pushing levers on a sound board as he talked into a huge mic.

“If you’re on your own, you use Studio A,” Dante said pointing through the glass. “Newbs use this studio with someone on the board on the other side.” He gestured for me to take a seat. “We’ll have three minutes after the previous show ends before we start. As a nonprofit, we don’t run commercials, so we add a filler song to give our hosts a chance to change over. Any questions?”

“Has anyone ever passed out from fear before they got on the air?”

“You’ll be fine,” he said, laughing. “I’ll be there to cover for youif anything goes wrong. We pull the same trick on everyone—someone is sick, we need an emergency fill-in, no one is available… Noah just wants to see if you’re willing to step outside your comfort zone and be part of the team.”

With only a few minutes to go, Dante quickly ran through the basics of using the equipment. He would handle all the sound adjustments from the board in the other room. All I had to do was put on the headphones, press theONbutton, and read the news.

“Are you okay?” Dante asked.

My heart was pounding so hard I thought I’d break a rib. “Other than feeling like I’m going to be sick? I usually like to plan and prepare for things. Isla’s the one who jumps on a plane and flies out to Denver, or sees a random guy at the bus stop and asks him for coffee, or—”

“Kisses a stranger in an alley? Drunk-dials him from a frat party?” He brushed my hair back, gently tucking it behind my ears before he reached for the headphones. I licked my dry lips, and my heart slowed its frantic beat.

“Yes.” I realized what he was saying and quickly backtracked. “No. I mean, yes she would do something like that, but I wouldn’t.”

“But you did.” He gently placed the headphones over my ears and his voice became muffled. “Maybe beneath the fear, there’s a daring Skye wanting to be free.”

While Dante adjusted the microphone, I quickly read through the show prep, trying to focus on the stories. Arson was suspected as the cause of a fire at a liquor store in Bridgeport. Walmart announced they were closing four stores in Chicago. Twenty sailboats in the south end of Monroe Harbor had been damaged in strong winds overnight, and a local developer had been arrested for drunk driving and got off with a slap on the wrist.

A green light flashed in the studio across from me and Dante left to trade places with the radio host. He gave me the signal and I heard the soothing baritone of his voice before I went live. “You’ve got this.”

And I did.

Until I didn’t.

CHAPTER ELEVEN“Centerfield” by John FogertyDANTE

Noah didn’t do meetings if he could avoid them. He especially didn’t do meetings in his office involving more than one person because it meant he had to clean off his chairs. So, when he called me in to a meeting with Siobhan on Saturday morning, I was instantly on edge.

“What’s this about?” I asked Siobhan while we waited for Noah.

“I have no idea. The internship is all but settled so maybe it has to do with getting you to do some actual work at the station like the rest of us.” She lifted a box off one of the chairs while I cleared papers off the other.

I had a sinking feeling in my chest. Skye had been visibly upset after her newscast and had left the station before I could go after her. By the time the next show host arrived to take over, she was no longer in the building.

“Who did he pick?”

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