Free A Case for Love by Kaye Dacus Page A

notes for the interview I’m doing in less than two hours. Was there another question you wanted to ask me?” From the corner of her eye, she could see Bekka shaking her head in exasperation. Antagonizing the very person who could help her move to the news desk—probably not a great idea.
    “The Web site. Any special requests from your viewers you’d like to pass along?”
    “Just to get the recipes up sooner than Sunday or Monday. Since Chef O’Hara provides those for us when he films on Tuesdays, I don’t see why they’re not going up as soon as his segment airs on Fridays.”
    “We’ll pass that along.” The head honcho of the newsroom smirked at her and moved on to Bekka. He always did that to her— made her feel like a high-school intern who’d accidentally walked into a place she shouldn’t be and wasn’t welcome. Well, her program had higher ratings than the ten o’clock news, so he could take his condescension and shove it where—
    “Hey, are you okay?”
    At Bekka’s whispered question, Alaine looked around. Everyone was getting up from the conference table.
    “Yeah, just thinking ... about the interview I’m doing with LeShon Murphy today.”
    “Just checking. You really zoned out there for a while.”
    Alaine stood and tucked her steno pad under her arm, pen behind her ear. “These staff meetings are a waste of my time. No one ever says something that effects my show, and they’re not interested in anything I have to say anyway, so what’s the point?”
    “The point is”—Bekka followed her out of the room—“if you want to move into main news, you’re going to have to start acting like you’re interested in what’s going on in the rest of the newsroom. And you have to make yourself heard—but not by alienating the one person with the most sway around here.”
    Alaine shook her head, shoulders drooping. “I know. I knew as soon as I heard the words coming out of my mouth it was a stupid thing to say. I just get so tired of his constantly sniping at me. It’s like he doesn’t want me to be there.”
    “Well, my suggestion—and it’s just my opinion—is that you do whatever it takes to impress him. To show him you not only deserve to be at that table, but that you also deserve to be moved up the ranks.”
    Bekka stopped Alaine with a hand on her arm. “Alaine, you’ve been here for ten years. Granted, when you took over the noon show six years ago, that was a pretty big coup for someone so young. But for someone who’s been saying you wanted to be at the big desk for as long as you’ve been saying it to not have made it one step closer, you really need to stop and take stock of what might be holding you back.”
    Alaine snorted. “What’s holding me back is all the upper-ups who take one look at me and can’t get past my exterior to see that I could handle breaking news stories or an evening news anchor position. You didn’t have to worry about it the way I did. Your dad was the news director here for twenty-some-odd years, not to mention a silent partner in the ownership of this station and Cannon Broadcasting. Of course you were going to get promoted.” Alaine pressed her lips together to stop herself from saying anything else. What was wrong with her, just letting stuff slip out with no apparent ability to censor herself today?
    A hurt, resigned expression entered Bekka’s brown eyes. “As I said, it’s only my opinion. You can take the suggestion or not, as you choose.”
    “Bekka, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ... I’m just frustrated. I know you had to work hard to get a job here and to get the promotions you’ve gotten. The truth of the matter is that I’m jealous that you managed to find a path to do it that I haven’t seemed to figure out yet.”
    Bekka cocked her head. “Did I ever tell you that I didn’t want to be in main news?”
    Alaine jerked her head in surprise. “What?”
    “That’s right. I was perfectly content being a sports reporter.