Page 8 of No More Bad Boys
But this should be simple and straightforward. There’s no rain, and thanks to the “working press” sign on my dashboard, I get a good parking spot near the entrance of the aquarium.
I’m guessing the reporter—I think they said it was going to be Caroline—will stand somewhere out here with the boat-shaped curved glass exterior wall in the background, do her intro and then throw to the package of interior video and sound bites she’s been gathering the past couple of hours.
Now that I’m in place, all I can do is wait for her and the photog to emerge from the building. Then I’ll stay out of their way as they edit the package in the truck before I set up the live shot.
While I wait, I sit in the driver’s seat and drink a Pepsi One, glancing up guiltily at the monstrous Coca Cola sign towering above me, and try not to think of how Blake towered over me when we spoke briefly this morning. I
hadn’t thought it possible, but he smelled even better than he had yesterday, and those dimples were once again on full, mesmerizing display.
As if my memory has conjured him, the aquarium doors open, and Blake emerges. He’s followed closely by Lucero Abrego, the only female photog working at WATV.
Blake?What happened to Caroline?
The caffeine from my soft drink kicks in suddenly, or maybe it’s the prospect of spending a couple hours in close proximity to Blake that’s caused my pulse rate to double.
That’s the other apparent side effect of being near him. Tongue-tied and arrhythmic. Lovely combo.
He holds the door wide to let his co-worker pass. Luce is a teensy little thing, no taller than five-three with the frame of a ninth grader, but she seems super-capable, and from what I can tell, doesn’t take any crap from the other photogs, though they seem to enjoy ribbing her.
We met on my first day during my “official” newsroom tour and talked a few minutes about the camera she uses.
Turns out she’s only a couple years older than me, and she’s become my best friend at the station. We have lunch together most days unless she’s out on a noon live shot or a story.
As awkward as I find it to talk to Blake, chatting with Luce comes easily.
I can tell when the two of them spot the station-logoed truck. The pace of Blake’s long stride picks up, and Luce almost skips to keep up with him, seeming unhindered by the camera on one shoulder and the equipment bag over the other.
Blake’s got his hands full, too, gripping a large duffle on each side.
When they get close, I climb into the back of the truck to open the side door for them.
That’s where all the editing equipment is, the place where they’ll set up shop in preparation for their live shot. It’s like a little mini TV station back here, with monitors, editing equipment, even a couple of wheeled office chairs so the reporter and photog can sit while they work.
I hear Blake’s deep voice just outside the truck, and a ripple of awareness goes through my caffeine-or-whatever-addled-nervous system. I open the door to let them in.
His face is the first one I see, as little Luce’s is somewhere down around my knees. His expression transforms from an easy smile into surprise, and then a distinct look of pleasure.
“Cadence. I didn’t know you were our live truck operator today.”
“I didn’t either. I mean… uh… Ididknow I’d be running the truck. I didn’t know I’d be yours. Your engineer I mean.”
“Hi Cadence,” Luce chirps. “How’s it going? Big day for you—maiden voyage in a live truck, right?”
“Yeah. I’m hanging in there. How are you? How’d the shoot go?” I extend a hand to help her make the giant step up into the high profile vehicle, and she grabs it.
“Great. We got some great stuff for the package. Good thing you’re here early though, because setting upthislive shot’s gonna be a bitch.”
I look at her and then at Blake, who’s joined us in the tiny central aisle of the live truck, keeping his head ducked so it doesn’t crack the ceiling.
He’s wearing an enthusiastic grin. “It won’t be that bad. And it’ll be so worth it—this live shot will be unprecedented.”
I don’t like the sound of this. This sounds hard. I was counting on straightforward.
Where I come from, unprecedented and straightforward don’t live in the same neighborhood.
“What… what are you planning to do?”
Luce rolls her dark brown eyes and blows a stray lock of black hair from her face. “Our new reporter is obsessed with creating theultimatelive shot.”
