"Yeah, but it would still be The Hand of Fate show, right?" He shrugged. "You can only have one top dog."
Jim was like a force of nature. Cassidy didn't relish getting caught up in the whirlwind. "No, thanks. I'm my own person. I'm not meant to be anyone's order taker."
"But what are you at Channel 4? You're not coanchoring with Brad, even though they promised you. And I see they're even giving airtime to that young thing they've got there--Juno or whatever her name is."
"Jenna." Cassidy said her name reluctantly. Jim had a knack for finding her painful places and then poking them.
"At KNWS I have an intern, but you won't see me confusing her youth and beauty with talent. Channel 4 is getting desperate because they know their average viewer is eighty plus. I mean, look at the ads you guys run during the news. It's all motorized scooters, Viagra, and `you can't be turned down for our insurance.' So in a desperate bid for attention, TV news is now all about eye candy. Radio still has some gravitas." Jim slid a fork piled high with baked potato, sour cream, chives, and bacon bits into his mouth. He obviously had no qualms about his waistline.
"I'm surprised you can say that with a straight face. I've heard your program. It can be pretty one-sided. You work someone over until they're the consistency of mush."
"Okay--how about this aspect? You never have to worry about aging out of the radio market. Whereas on Channel 4, one day it might be Jenna sitting in the anchor chair, right next to Miss Connecticut. And you'll be out on assignment. Someplace where it's raining and it takes you three hours to drive there. One way."
The sickening thought of Jenna in the anchor's chair was not as far-fetched as it might have sounded even a month ago. "I don't know," Cassidy said slowly.
Working in TV was like a drug. You got addicted to the action and the recognition. But the business was so small that once you lost or left an important job, it was difficult--if not impossible--to go back. But did she want to jump into something new, or did she want to wait until she was pushed out?
"Tell you what. Why don't you come by my condo after dinner?"
He certainly had a one-track mind. Oh, well, at least she still had it, as far as Jim Fate was concerned. Cassidy lifted one eyebrow. "What--and see your etchings? Haven't you already shown me those?" She allowed herself one bite of baked potato. One bite had never killed anyone.
"No. A couple of months ago I put in a small studio setup. Just try practicing with me, and I'll record it and give you a CD. Once you hear for yourself how great we can be together, you'll know why I want this."
"I don't know, Jim." The second forkful slid into her mouth before she could stop it.
"That's not a no. Come on. Just give it a try. And if you don't think it's right for you, then no blood, no foul."
"Mm, maybe." She ate another bite of baked potato. Weren't potatoes a vegetable? And didn't she need to eat more vegetables?
Forty-five minutes later, she was sitting in Jim's condo, wearing headphones and staring at a black mike. "How are we going to do this?"
"It's easy." Jim smiled at her. One earpiece of his headphones was pushed back, as was hers. "This is your microphone. Stay about six inches away, and speak directly into it. All you need to remember about radio is: no last names, no brand names, no phone numbers over the air. Other than that, speak normally."
Cassidy's palms were damp, and her stomach felt sour. She hadn't felt this anxious in a long time. With Rick, sure. But not when it came to work. She was good at her job. And this was just like her job, only minus a camera.
"Just follow my lead. I'll start talking about something, and you chime in." Jim slid his headset back into place, flipped a switch, and then leaned toward his mike. "Now, I don't know how many of you have read it, but there's a B-list actress who has just come out with a book that says aliens are living among us. What do you think, Cassidy?"
There was no audience here but Jim and the microphone. Still, she heard the faint tremor in her first few words. "Well, I'm not sure I believe in aliens." Her voice steadied. "But I will say her theory would go a long way toward explaining a few of our politicians."
Jim laughed, a little theatrically, and shot Cassidy a thumbs-up. They went on for about twenty minutes, Jim rifting on current topics, and Cassidy following his lead. Then Jim copied the file he had made and handed her a CD.
"Just listen to this in the car on the way home. And tell me you don't think we could blow everyone else out of the water."
She looked at her watch. It was nearly midnight. She had to get home. Get home to her Somulex. All of a sudden the water she had drunk in between sips of gin and tonic in a bid to stay sober caught up with her.
"Could I use your bathroom?"