Forecast (8 page)

A voice boomed over a loudspeaker. “Are you okay, Rowie?”

Rowie looked up at the tech-box and noticed Taye giving her a wave. She could see Mac and Jess beside him. She nodded and gave him the thumbs up. What else could she do? Vomit?

*

Taye settled into his chair. “Three minutes, people.”

Mac glanced at Jess. “Tell me this isn’t crazy.”

Jess looked more confident than she felt. “Just breathe, Mac. It’ll be great.” She turned and looked at Rowie on the monitor. The little witch was incredibly photogenic. A face like that was hardly going to alienate the viewers. At least she hoped it wouldn’t. Her job was depending on it.

“Hurry up, Petey.” Lilia urged. “It’ll be on in a minute.”

Petey sat next to her on the couch, fiddling with the remote control. “It’s definitely broken,” he announced.

“Just turn it on at the set.” Lilia hated these new-fangled inventions.

“I think we’ll have to. This won’t work.”

Angel, perched on a cushion on the floor, turned and grabbed it off him.

“Gimme that.” She flipped the back panel open. “There’s no bloody batteries in it.”

“I knew that,” Petey blushed.

“No wonder it’s never worked,” said Lilia. She grabbed a couple of batteries from a cabinet drawer and handed them to Petey. “Do you know how to put them in?”

“I think I can work it out,” Petey grumbled.

“Perhaps Angel should do it,” said Lilia. She settled back on the couch and then glanced at Gwendolyn, hunched over a pile of cutlery at the back of the room. “Are you going to watch, Mom?”

Gwendolyn shook her head. “I don’t have time. I still need to distribute the silverware.”

“Mom, stop it.”

“What? It’s just a little distraction for her.”

Lilia grabbed a cushion and tossed it at Gwendolyn. “You can be a stubborn old woman, you know that?”

“Perhaps. But you’ll miss me when I’m gone.” Gwendolyn started buffing a fork, but stopped when she realized her husband was glaring at her. “What?”

“You never even liked that silverware,” said Dorian.

“Your great-aunt Mildred gave us this for our wedding.”

“Would that be the great-aunt Mildred you despised because she opposed our marriage?” Dorian stalked off and joined the others.

“The old cow was wiccaphobic,” snapped Gwendolyn, who liked to have the last word.

Angel cut a slab of cheesecake and sauntered over to Gwendolyn. “Were you speaking to me?”

“Nope,” said Gwendolyn as she checked her reflection in a spoon.

“Here’s some sweet stuff. You seem a bit sour today.” Angel placed the cheesecake on the table. “You already have a spoon.”

“No thanks.”

“How about a wine? Loosen you up … Gwennie.”

“Don’t call me Gwennie,” Gwendolyn snapped. “You know I hate it.”

“Ditch the Post-its and I’ll stick to Gwendolyn.”

Gwendolyn ignored Angel’s insolence and returned to her silverware. The girl could be quite rude, but Gwendolyn still adored her. Angel was the only person who had ever truly given her cheek. Most people were scared senseless of her, or felt she deserved an almost royal-like respect. Angel always said what she thought, in that strange accent of hers, and damn the consequences. Gwendolyn liked that. It reminded her … of her.

“Come and watch the news,” said Angel. “This is really important to Rowie.”

“I can see the TV from here.”

“Okay,
Gwennnnnnie
! Suit yourself.” Angel returned to the others, grabbed some nuts and plonked herself in a recliner.

Petey turned the volume up. “Shh everyone, it’s on.”

*

Jack switched on the television and then propped some pillows behind Drew’s head. “Is that better? Can you see the TV?”

“You don’t have to baby-sit me, Jack.” Drew was fully aware of how busy Jack was. “You’ve already done way more than I ever expected.”

“Someone’s got to take care of you. Eva sure as hell isn’t going to. Anyway, I’m on the red-eye back tonight.” Jack opened a small, portable cooler and handed Drew a plastic cup. “I got some snacks. There’s a little health food shop down the road. Reopened this afternoon. Hospital food is enough to make you sick.”

“You’re a champion!” Drew took a sip. “Christ! What is it?”

“Wheatgrass juice. It’s really good for you,” said Jack.

“Couldn’t you bring me a beer? What else have you got in there?”

“Spinach salad …”

“Please tell me you have some cookies or something.”

“There’s an organic orange and polenta cake,” Jack offered.

Drew rolled his eyes. “That will have to do.”

Jack served up a slice of cake on a paper plate, while Drew positioned his head so he could see the TV. He was nervous. What if Rowie was awful?

Or worse, what if she was great? What if she was better than him?

*

Rowie could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Oh God, what if she had a heart attack? Was that possible from fear? She’d read somewhere that people who fell from tall buildings were dead before they hit the ground. The fear killed them. She certainly felt like she was free falling, sans parachute.

She saw Bill Anderson strutting towards her, wearing a suit jacket, shirt and tie on top, and Bermuda shorts on bottom. He was much smaller than he appeared on TV, and the olive skin and brown hair adored by fans everywhere were obviously fake. It was unnerving, a bit like finding out Santa Clause wasn’t real.

“Hey, Rowie isn’t it? Bill Anderson. How are you feeling?

“Oh you know … nauseous.”

Bill leaned in and whispered in Rowie’s ear. “Quick word of advice. Be careful of Tina. She comes across all apple pie on TV, but believe me, she’s an A grade bitch.”

Rowie stepped back, appalled. Jess wasn’t exaggerating. Bill loathed Tina. She could almost smell it on his breath. Or was that whiskey?

Bill gave Rowie a wink and sauntered towards the news desk.

Shin walked up to Rowie. “You ready?”

“Yes,” Rowie nodded.

Shin readjusted Rowie’s mike. “Speak into it for me.”

Rowie felt a bit foolish. “Um … testing … one, two.”

“That’s great.” Shin smiled kindly. “Have fun, and remember to breathe.” He turned and scanned the studio. “Places, people.”

Rowie took a deep breath and tried to imagine herself surrounded by white light. It was difficult to do, surrounded by a greenscreen and monitors. She noticed Tina Eanis, coiffed to perfection, marching towards her. Tina paused for a moment and gave Rowie the once-over before speaking to her. Rowie suddenly felt like a schoolgirl with muddy clothes and a smudged face.

“I’m Tina … obviously. Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

“And just between us,” Tina smirked, “steer clear of Bill Anderson. The guy is a complete sleazebag.”

Shin interrupted them. “Thirty seconds, Tina. Hustle.”

“No rest for the wicked.” Tina made her way to the news desk and sat next to Bill.

Rowie watched to see if they acknowledged each other at all. They didn’t. Instead Tina pulled a can of air freshener out from under the desk and sprayed it around near Bill. “That’s better,” she sighed.

*

Bill Anderson and Tina Eanis appeared on screen in all their polished glory. They turned and greeted each other: friends, co-workers, and partners. They obviously held each other in high regard.

“I love them,” said Angel.

“They look like such kind people,” said Petey.

“I bet they’re assholes,” said Lilia.

Bill stared straight through camera lens and into the eyes of each individual watching. It was a gift. “Those stories and more, including Hurricane Hilda and a psychic weather woman, in just a moment.”

Anticipation filled the room. All eyes were focused on the television. Even the portraits seemed to turn their gaze.

Gwendolyn counted the desert spoons again … and once more. She couldn’t concentrate while the TV was blaring. She resisted for as long as she could, and then decided one little glance wouldn’t hurt. One little peek, as they introduced Rowie …

She looked beautiful.

Gwendolyn smiled … slightly. That’s my girl, she thought.

“Ouch!” Something hit her in the side of the head. “OUCH!” And again, square in the chest. Gwendolyn realized Angel was tossing nuts at her. The little minx had caught her.

Angel grinned and gave her a wink. “Sprung … Gwennnnnnie!” she mouthed silently.

Gwendolyn poked her tongue out at Angel and returned to the silverware. Obviously they didn’t teach manners in Australia.

*

Rowie desperately needed to go to the bathroom … again. But it was too late. Shin gave the final countdown, finishing with a wave of his arm.

“Three, two …”

Suddenly the energy around Bill and Tina changed as they sprang to life, and became a team.

“More bloodshed in the Middle East with an explosion inside a crowded restaurant today,” said Bill, serious, competent and trustworthy.

“And the Spotty-beaked Woodpecker, close to extinction,” said Tina, intelligent, caring and warm.

They turned to each other and, in an Oscar-worthy performance, smiled like long lost friends.

“Upsetting news, Bill.”

“Certainly is, Tina.”

Bill returned his attention to the camera. “Those stories and more, including Hurricane Hilda, and a psychic weather woman, in just a moment.”

USBC’s familiar signature theme filled the room as they crossed to the opening graphics. Tina took the opportunity to scream at Shin.

“Why does
he
get the Middle East, while
I
get a stupid bird that only hippies give a shit about?”

Bill grinned, pleased for an opportunity to push Tina’s buttons. “Because you think the Middle East is somewhere around Macy’s.”

“You’re an ass,” Tina snarled.

Shin, used to their bickering, dealt with Tina like he would a child. “You know you’re better at dealing with animal issues, Tina.”

Tina glared at Shin, but kept her mouth shut. He was right. Hadn’t she placated the idiots at PETA with that campaign for baby harp seals? They had no idea she slept in a Fendi fur wrap and lived on Canadian salmon.

“Back on in five.” Shin counted them back in. “Four, three, two …”

Rowie doubled over and tried to calm herself. Just breathe, she thought. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into Shin’s smiling eyes.

“I guess it’s too late to pull out?” she joked.

“Good luck,” he mouthed before slipping away.

Suddenly, Bill and Tina reverted back into best friends mode.

“Hurricane Hilda ripped through Florida yesterday killing eight people and destroying hundreds of homes. Eva Sanchez reports from the devastated area.”

Rowie turned and watched the monitor. Eva Sanchez was polished, articulate and naturally sexy, a sympathetic observer amidst a scene of total devastation. Behind her, the newly homeless searched the rubble for anything they could salvage. There wasn’t much. The clip finished and they cut back to Tina and Bill.

“Heartbreaking,” said Tina, stifling a yawn.

“Makes me realize how lucky I am,” said Bill. “Of course, Drew Henderson wasn’t so lucky. But he’s got a lot of support out there. The network was inundated with get-well messages and teddy bears for Drew after footage of his fall was aired last night.” Bill turned to Tina. “So, Teen, who’ve we got to replace Drew?”

Tina beamed. Time to be more upbeat. “Hang on to your crystal balls … it’s a psychic weather woman. Known here in Manhattan for her eerily accurate predictions, Rowie Shakespeare now intends to take the rest of the state by storm.”

Rowie took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together. She was so nervous she felt faint. Beads of sweat broke on her forehead. A makeup woman appeared, wiped them off, and then disappeared.

Tina timed the punchline perfectly. “I
predict
everyone will be amazed.”

“Great to have you aboard, Rowie,” said Bill. “We hear you’ve been predicting the weather ever since you were a child?”

Rowie was on. She stepped back, startled. It was a shock to see herself on the monitors. That didn’t happen this morning. Adrenaline shot through her body, pumped into her brain. The room spun like a roulette wheel. Whoa, Rowie thought, place your bets. She blinked nervously and tried to focus on the news desk.

Bill and Tina smiled at her and waited for her to answer. She tried to remember what the question was. Was it a question? What was she meant to say? Her whole body filled with ice and froze. Her mind went blank and she forgot the scripted banter she’d memorized earlier.

There was a deadly silence and then Bill jumped back in. “I guess as a child you always knew when to put on a warm coat.”

Rowie searched Bill’s face. She watched as his smile faded. He glanced at Tina. They may hate each other, but they were definitely on the same team when there was a whiff of failure in the room. She tried to remember what she’d done during the test. Suddenly her brain thawed slightly. It decoded the question.

“Yes … um … I always told my family if they needed that extra layer.” Rowie laughed, but it felt as fake as Tina’s boobs.

“And being psychic, do you ever just
know
which numbers to bet on in the lottery?” chuckled Bill.

“I wish, Bill, but my powers don’t quite work like that.” Rowie bared her teeth. It was meant to be a smile, but would be mistaken for a sign of aggression in many species.

“So what have you got for us today, Rowie?” asked Tina.

Rowie turned to the camera and tried to remember what she’d practiced. “Good evening.”

The cameraman waved his arm at her and Rowie realized she was looking at the wrong camera. She turned to the correct one.

“Good evening. Hurricane Hilda may be over, but the cost of cleanup is expected to exceed twenty billion dollars.” Rowie raised her arm and started gesturing at the greenscreen. She felt about as natural as a Muppet. “Nationally today: rain and storms around parts of the south west …”

She glanced at the monitor and realized she was pointing somewhere around Indiana, rather than the southwest. She turned to the map behind her, but was greeted by a blank greenscreen. She turned back to the monitor and tried again. It was easier this morning … when she wasn’t frozen with fear.