Do or Di (3 page)

“I’m thinking of dropping out.”

That killed the conversation for a few moments. So much for hoping she was going to win the Nobel Prize.

“What kinds of things do you like to do for fun?” I asked.

She gave a shrug and looked down at her shoes, but then her eyes darted up to meet mine. I smiled. I’d been wrong to freak out just because she was a bit older than I had in mind. You could see she was a nice kid, sort of shy and gawky, but sweet. She had just gotten off on the wrong track. It might even work to my advantage. I could still be the older-sister type, and there was no risk of toilet training accidents that you can run into with the young crowd. I had a suede sofa to think of, after all.

She looked around to see if we were alone and then leaned in close. Her breath smelled faintly of toothpaste. “There’s something you should know about me.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” I crossed my finger over my chest in sisterly solidarity.

“My mom named me after my mentor.”

“You already have a mentor?” I pulled back, surprised.

“More of a spiritual guide. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.” She looked around the room again. “Diana Spencer?”

I stared at her blankly hoping that my first association with that name was wrong. “You think Princess Diana is your mentor?”

“Uh-huh.”

“The Princess Diana who’s dead,” I said, stating it as a fact.

Diana blushed as if I had brought up an embarrassing topic. “Yes.”

“Any other dead people talk to you?”

“No, just the one. She’s helping me be more like her. I was born on the day she died.” Diana pointed to the typed sheet in my hand that listed her birth date.

“So you’re like the reincarnation of Princess Diana?”

She gave me a smile as if she was a kindergarten teacher and I was struggling with a difficult concept. “I don’t think I’m Princess Diana.” I felt relieved for a split second, until she continued. “I’m just channeling her spirit. It’s nothing personal, but I don’t need you as a mentor. I’m certain you’re really nice and all, but…” Her voice trailed off.

“I’m no princess.”

“Exactly.” She gave me a sympathetic nod and slipped back into the crowd leaving me with the melon balls and no appetite.

The next day, at an absurdly early hour when I knew the organizer for Positive Partnerships wouldn’t be in the office, I left a message bailing out on the program. I pleaded workload. I know, lame excuse, but in fairness Diana didn’t want to partner with me either and I was positive I didn’t need any more crazy in my life. I was pretty sure I’d be going to hell for abandoning a sad, crazy girl. The thing is, for someone who is only in her thirties, I’ve racked up a whole lot of reasons to be sent to hell. At some point you have to figure there isn’t a chance for redemption and just screw it. The idea of me being a mentor was a stupid idea to start with. Taking on someone who thought she was the reincarnation of dead royalty was more than I could handle.

I fidgeted in my chair in the booth so I could see the clock. I wondered if the Partnership organizer would call me when the show was over and want to convince me to reconsider.

“Okay, we’re on commercial. We should be able to fit in another call or two before the show is over,” Avita said.

I flopped back in my seat taking my headphones off. I hadn’t slept well last night. I had some sort of nightmare where I was chased by zombie corgi dogs through a palace. I was ready for the show to be over for the day.

“You left early last night, you never said how it went with your partner,” Colin asked while he made some notes.

“She’s okay. She has a lot of issues,” I said vaguely.

“Isn’t that the whole point? If they didn’t have issues they wouldn’t need the program. Heck, my kid is a serial masturbator.”

“Charming. At least you’ll have some common ground.” I flipped through the papers on the desk in front of me. “Actually, I decided not to stay with the program. I don’t have the time. She needs someone who can give her more than I could.”

“You need all your time for someone special?”

“Special?” I asked. My heart stopped for a beat and then picked up speed. I was dating someone, but it wasn’t something I planned to share with anyone here, especially Colin.

“Someone like you must have boyfriend. Sure, you talk the feminist line about not needing a man, but I’m betting you could come up with a few ideas of how to use one around the house.” Colin waggled his eyebrows up and down in a meaningful way.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and for the record my personal life is none of your business.” Even in the best of circumstances I wouldn’t want Colin to know a thing about me, but my situation was far from the best of circumstances. The desire to smack the smirk off Colin’s face was barely outweighed by my desire to avoid drawing attention to our discussion with the sound crew and Avita listening in. I settled for grinding down a few layers of teeth enamel.

I slid the headphones back on and looked down at the monitor and then up at the clock mounted on the soundproof wall. We had time to take one more call. I looked over to the callboard. It held the same random assortment of people who can’t wait to broadcast their dysfunction on the air. Granted, I’m doing it, but at least I’m well paid. Avita held up her hand and counted down.

“We’re back on in five, four, three, two, and...” She pointed at us through the glass. The show’s theme music came on, filling the studio. I took one last sip of my bottled water before pressing the button to make my microphone live.

“We’ve got Eve on line one with a relationship question. What can we do for you Eve?” I asked in a cheery voice.

“Am I on the radio?”

“You sure are, darlin’. What can we do for you?” Colin asked. I hate when he lapses into this Southern comfort accent thing. He’s never even been near the Mason-Dixon Line.

“Thanks so much for taking my call. I need some advice, I just found out that a guy I’m interested in is married and I don’t know what to do.”

“Oooh, a clandestine love affair. Everyone knows when it’s naughty it’s more fun,” Colin said.

I glared over at Colin, who shrugged with exaggerated innocence.

“He says he’s going to leave his wife someday so we can be together,” Eve whispered.

“HA!” Colin and I said in unison. At last something we agree on.

“It’s going to come down to what you want in a relationship. An affair with a married man is far from a fairy-tale romance,” Colin said.

“Eve, allow me to interrupt the fantasy and fairy tale for a reality break,” I said. “They call it fairy-tale romance because it’s made up, nothing more than an illusion. You can wait around for a fairy tale if you want, but you might be waiting a long time. You need to worry less about this guy and more about what you want for yourself.”

“What about you two?” Eve asked with a tiny sniffle.

“What about us?” Colin asked.

“How did you two meet and fall in love?”

“Love?” I sputtered. She was the third or fourth person who had commented about the two of us. They seemed to assume we were dating because of how we sniped at each other on-air. It didn’t speak well for what people thought couples should act like in a relationship. Talk about delusional.

“Truth is, Eve, I can be irresistible,” Colin said.

I pantomimed gagging and said, “He means he can be insufferable. Multi-syllable words confuse him,” I clarified.

Avita was gesturing wildly behind the window. Time was up.

“That’s all we have time for today. Thanks for listening in. I’m Erin…”

“…And I’m Colin. We’ll see you back here tomorrow on He Said…”

“…She Said.” I clicked off the microphone and leaned back in my chair. Colin slid his headphones off, his dark hair sticking up here and there. He rubbed his chin, rasping across the afternoon stubble coming in. He’s the kind of guy whose stubble grows at a rate that is actually visible to the naked eye.

“Well, I guess you’re not at any risk for being mistaken for a hopeless romantic,” Colin said. “I find it hard to believe you don’t have a secret soft spot somewhere.”

“You do notice the term contains the word
hopeless
, right? I consider myself a realistic romantic.” I collected my things. “Promise me tomorrow that we’ll clear up the whole relationship thing on the show. Too many people think we’re a couple. I don’t want people laboring under the misconception that I would actually date you.”

“You are a charmer, Callighan. Why don’t you just admit how thrilled you are to do the show with me?” He leaned back, smiling.

“Thrilled? How about you’re thrilled that I bailed you out after your last partner took up the bottle?”

“Say what you want, you’re doing a live show. It’s a step up from traffic reporter. At least you don’t have to make those fake helicopter sounds.” Colin made a whirring noise.

“You resent how well the show has done since I joined. You are more comfortable with women as assistants. It’s the only way you really get a woman at your beck and call; you make them your coffee troll.”

“You make a lousy coffee troll. You always add too much sugar. I’ve seen you in the break room. I’ll admit the show is doing well,
if
you admit part of the reason is because of me, because of how we work together. Besides, if you want to be at my beck and call, I could use a warm up,” he said, holding out his cup.

“Get it yourself. I’ve got plans,” I said as I slipped out the studio door. I could hear him laughing as the door closed.

One of the (many) things that frustrate me about Colin is that from time to time he can be right. I suspect it’s nothing more than a coincidence, but it is annoying nonetheless. The show was doing well, and he was a big part of it. Before Colin and I matched up, I wasn’t having the best of luck on my own. On the first show I did at another station I got in trouble for mentioning what a loser my ex-boyfriend was on the air. (Moral of the story: never use full names.) After they laid me off (okay, fired) I hadn’t been able to find any on-air positions and had to settle for the sales/marketing job here. Then I was lucky they let me fill in doing the travel report. You wouldn’t think you could get in trouble doing travel. I mentioned, just in passing, my feeling on-airport security agents. It isn’t that I don’t value national security as much as the next person, but I do fail to see how rooting through my makeup bag looking for the moisturizer of death is really moving things along.

However, a few listeners felt that I was basically advocating terrorism and called in to complain. Near as I can tell, the entire city is filled with pockets of people who feel the need to police the city’s airwaves, listening for rogue radiobroadcasts. However, on He Said, She Said they want me to spout off. The more outrageous my opinion the better.

I suspect Wayne was also glad to have found a place for me that worked. I feel for him, he was stuck between two items that seemed mutually exclusive, keeping the listeners happy, as well as, the management at our parent company. Especially given who was on that management team. I was willing to bet that Wayne knew all about my dirty little secret.

Not that I started dating Jonathon with any thought of how it would complicate things at work. I was simply glad to meet someone that wasn’t an immediate candidate for my dwarf list. Like many plans that are hatched while under the influence of great volumes of champagne, it was a bit unclear in terms of detail. We met at my baby sister’s wedding. I hadn’t brought a date to the wedding. No one deserved the pressure of being subjected to one of our family events. I loved my family, but they were eager to marry me off. They acted like I was taking up valuable attic space.