“What does Bill have to do with it?”

Allie snuggled down into the couch cushions, and Charlie let his mind wander for a moment. Allie was as well-upholstered as the couch. A comfortable woman. The kind of woman without angles or sharp bones or-

“Bill owns the station,” Allie said. “And nothing or nobody gets in the station that Bill doesn’t know everything about. If he hired you, he’s seen your baby pictures.”

Since Bill was Charlie’s father’s college roommate, this was truer than Allie knew, but Charlie was still not convinced. “You’re telling me it’s impossible for Bill to have hired a creep? Then how did he get Mark?’

Allie grinned. “You’re biased. Mark’s not so bad. He’s a little insecure, and he’s ambitious for his show, but who wouldn’t be?”

“Me,” Charlie said.

Joe came back in the room bracketing three iced-tea glasses in his hands. “You’re not ambitious?” he asked as Charlie took one.

“Nope. I’m just here to have a good time.” Charlie leaned back and sipped his tea. It was full and rich, sun tea laced with just enough lemon and sugar. He settled more comfortably into the couch. “And it’s a good thing I’m not ambitious since I’m on from 10:00 to 2:00 a.m.”

Allie smiled at him brightly. It was a smile he was learning to associate with Positive Career Talk. “The time could be a lot better,” she told him. “But don’t worry. I’m going to make you a star.”

“No, you are not.” Charlie narrowed his eyes at her. The only thing that was going to save him was that he was on so late, nobody would notice how inept he was. All he needed was Allie drawing attention to him as he stuck a microphone in his eye or something, and then questions would be asked. “Don’t you even think about holding up a cue card for me. I told you. I don’t want to be a star.”

Joe snorted. “You don’t have any choice. If Allie wants you famous, you’re going to be famous.”

“Forget it,” Charlie told Allie. “Wipe the thought from your mind.”

“We can talk about it later,” Allie said smoothly. “Now, tomorrow night’s your first show and I thought-”

“Don’t.” Charlie scowled at her. “Thinking is bad for a woman. Tell me about the other people at the station. I already know about Mark and Lisa.”

Allie sat silent with her tea, obviously regrouping, so Joe chimed in. “Bill owns the station and theoretically runs it as general manager.”

“Theoretically?”

Joe exchanged a glance with Allie. “His wife, Beattie, decided about six months ago that she wanted a career. Bill gives Beattie anything she wants, so she’s pretty much running the place now.”

Charlie quirked an eyebrow at Joe. This was news Bill hadn’t shared. “Is that good?”

“I think so,” Joe said. “She fired Weird Waldo.”

“He thought Martians were invading the station through the consoles,” Allie said. “He kept announcing during his show that they were getting closer. It was actually kind of interesting if you suspended logical thought. Beattie wanted him gone, but Bill said he was just being colorful.”

“And then he shot the console,” Charlie remembered from the dinner conversation.

“Yep, just last week. Blew the whole thing away.” Allie sighed. “At least we gained a new console. And lost Waldo, thanks to Beattie.”

“Wouldn’t even Bill have fired him at that point?” Charlie asked, incredulous.

“Bill’s ability to ignore anything unpleasant is legendary,” Joe told him.

“Great.” Charlie drank more of his iced tea. If Bill could ignore somebody shooting up a broadcasting booth, the one anonymous letter that had made him call for help must have been a beauty. He brought his attention back to Joe. “What else should I know?”

They talked on into the night, Joe and Allie filling him in on the rest of the station personnel, like Albert the anal-retentive business manager who recited ad prices in his sleep, and Marda the ambitious afternoon DJ who was breathing down Mark’s neck for the prime-time slot, and Karen the receptionist who knew all the gossip not fit to print, and Harry the Howler who was on right before Charlie.

“Harry howls from six to ten,” Allie told Charlie. “He likes to think he’s wild and crazy, but he’s really sweet with the volume turned up. His real area of expertise is cars, so if you ever have problems with yours, ask Harry.”

“And then there’s me.”

Allie nodded. “Yep. Harry’s audience usually starts to fade about nine, nine-thirty, and then we had Weird Waldo.”

Charlie tried not to show his relief. “So, at the moment, my show has a listening audience of about…”

Allie grinned at him. “Oh, six or seven, tops. And they’re all listening because they’re concerned about the Martians, and they’re waiting for the update.”

Charlie started to laugh. “Oh, God. This is going to be awful.”

“Then at two o’clock, there’s Grady.”

“Tell me Grady’s normal.”

“Well…” Allie stopped, obviously searching for the words to describe Grady. “Grady is sweet. He talks about things like the life force and crystal power and personal auras, and then he plays classical guitar music and Gregorian chants and other…” She stopped. “I can’t describe Grady. His show is very soothing, and he has his own small but fanatically loyal following.” She shrugged. “I like him. Grady’s a good person.”

“If he has only a small following, why is he still on the air?”

“Because he’s Grady Bonner. Someday, all this will be his.”

“The son and heir? Then why is he on the graveyard shift?”

“Because his following is small. Bill gave Grady two to six to keep him off the streets.”

Charlie took a deep breath. “So I’m sandwiched in between Howling Harry and Grady ‘I Have lived In Other Times’ Bonner?”

“That’s about it.”

It couldn’t be better. No one would ever hear him. He started to grin. “I’m in big trouble.”

“No, you’re not.” Allie leaned forward. “Erom ten to two, you have a lot of freedom. All the really knee-jerk conservatives go to bed early so they can get up with the chickens, so your audience, once you build one, will be open to new things. As long as you don’t do anything that upsets Bill, you can say anything you want. We can do this, Charlie. We-”

“No, we can’t.” Charlie hated to ruin her plans, she looked so cute trying to sell them to him, but he was not going to be a success. “I don’t want to be famous. I just want a nice little radio show for a few weeks. That’s all.”

Allie shoved her glasses back up her nose. “But, Charlie-”

“No,” Charlie said firmly.

Joe stood up. “I’d love to stay and watch this, but I have to go to work in the morning. Good night, all.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, and Charlie leaned back on the couch.

“I think we should talk about this,” Allie said.

“I don’t,” Charlie said, but Allie did anyway, explaining all the good things that would come his way if he just put himself in her hands.

She was a good persuader, and under any other circumstances he might have listened just because she talked such a good fight, but he was only temporary. He wasn’t staying. He wasn’t going to be a success.

He wouldn’t mind being in her hands, though.

He jerked his mind away from the thought when Joe came out of the bathroom in his robe.

“Bathroom’s all yours. Good night.” Joe looked at Allie and shook his head, and then he went into his bedroom and closed the door.

Charlie frowned at Allie. She’d abandoned her argument about his career and was now looking at him as if she was sizing him up. He had the damnedest feeling she was going to try a new attack. It wasn’t a reassuring feeling. “Why did Joe shake his head?”

“What?” Allie stood up and moved to stand beside him, smiling brightly. “Never mind. My bedroom, as you know, is on the left. Want to see it again?”

“Come here, McGuffey.” He pulled her down beside him, trapping her hand in his. “What are you up to? Tell me everything, now. I can take it.”

“I was going to tell you, anyway.” She sat stiff and straight. “I just wanted to be in my nightgown to do it.”

“Your nightgown.” Charlie clamped down on his evil thoughts and patted her hand. “Well, I’m sorry I’m going to miss that. Why your nightgown?”

She sighed. “Joe thinks this is a bad idea.”

“Joe’s no dummy. If he thinks it is, it probably is.”

“I think so, too. Forget it.” She stood up, and he caught her hand.

“Oh, no, you don’t. Just in case you change your mind, I need to be prepared. Are we going to go Vaseline Mark’s car windows? Put Tabasco in Lisa’s diaphragm?”

Allie sat down again next to him. “All right. I have a favor to ask.”

Charlie tried to look encouraging. “Shoot.” Allie looked so uncomfortable, he was ready for anything.

She took a deep breath. “I want you to sleep with me.”


* * *

Charlie didn’t say anything, and she stole a glance at him.

He looked stunned.

She should have know it wouldn’t work. She wasn’t the seductress type. She flopped back against the couch, defeated. “I know it’s dumb, but I had this plan. I thought maybe if I slept with somebody else, I’d get over Mark permanently. Sort of like getting right back on the horse after you’ve been thrown.”

Charlie made a sound like a strangled laugh.

“What did you say?”

“I whinnied.”

Allie fought back a smile. “You laughed. Okay, go ahead. I just…” The words were too dumb to say out loud, so she shut up and shrugged instead.

Charlie leaned back beside her. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

Allie hesitated and then gave in. “Well, it’s hard to explain without sounding stupid. Everybody at the station thinks Mark is God. We were working together, making the show a hit, and when we started dating, it just felt right, I guess.” She wrinkled her nose as she thought. “And he was really good to me.” She turned her head to look Charlie in the eye, trying to make him understand. “I know he wasn’t impressive today, but he really was good to me. I’ve never been that anxious to settle down, but I thought we’d be together forever, working on the show.” She shook her head in disgust. “I was stupid. But it was still hard to give up. And I still miss it.” She stopped and frowned. “But you know, I think I miss the relationship more than I miss him.”

Charlie shook his head. “Everybody at the station thinks he’s God? They must be morons.”

“Not all of them. Just me.”

Charlie frowned at her. “If you’re going to feel sorry for yourself, get off my couch and go to your room.”

Allie relaxed back into the couch. “You know, I’m a very good producer. I just can’t handle my personal life.”

Charlie snorted. “You and about twenty million other people. It’s a common failing.”

She rolled her head sideways to look at him. “How do you do it?”

Charlie grinned at her. “Not very well. I have this commitment problem.”

“You and about twenty million other guys.” Allie grinned back. “Big deal. I bet once it’s over for you, it’s over. I bet you don’t go on obsessing about it afterward.”

“No. But then I’ve never loved anyone enough to obsess about it.”

“Well, that’s just my point.” She sat up again. “I’m not sure I loved Mark. I didn’t even like Mark much toward the end, which may be one of the reasons he dumped me. But I was used to being with him, working on the show, you know? I’m just… stuck in this stupid rut, and I need something to bounce me out of it.”

Charlie looked confused but not condemning. “So, your plan was that we’d sleep together, and then what?”

“Then I’d be over Mark, and we’d go to work.”

“A short-term arrangement.” He sounded noncommittal, which wasn’t encouraging.

Allie tried to get back to selling the idea. “Absolutely. A one-night stand. No strings. The last thing in the world I need right now is another relationship.” The thought of trying to keep another man happy made her tired all by itself. “I’m just sick of feeling like I’m going to throw up every time I see Mark.”

“You and about twenty million other people.”

Allie laughed. “No, really.” She tried to be serious. “He’s a nice guy. Lots of people like him. His show is very popular. And he takes a nice publicity picture.”

“Oh, that’s important in radio, taking a good picture.”

Allie turned to look at him when she heard the scorn in his voice. “Oh? And what do you do in radio?”

Charlie tensed for a moment and then relaxed deeper into the couch. “Well, there used to be a really late show in Lawrenceville from two to six. After Two with Ten Tenniel.” He grinned down at her and she grinned back because it was impossible not to. “Strange people call from two to six. I’m hoping the ten-to-two people are at least half as bizarre.”