One Hand On The Podium (11 page)

Rebecca Ray gave Simon Moss the floor to ask Tony the final question.

“For the next five minutes, each candidate will have an opportunity to ask the other a question. Mr. Bix received the first question of our opening segment, so Mr. Moss will be allowed to go first in this part. Mr. Moss, you may ask Mr. Bix a question. Mr. Bix, please keep your answers brief.”

Simon pulled two pieces of paper from his jacket pocket as he moved to the microphone. “I must say, Tony Bix has proven himself a knowledgeable opponent here tonight and even though I don’t agree with what he says, I do respect him and his views.”

Tony looked at his white-haired opponent warily.

“So, having said that, Tony, my good friend,” he looked at Tony then down at the two pieces of paper he held. “I am sure you are not going to like what I have to ask you.”

“Please ask,” Tony confidently said.

“It’s true, isn’t it, that since your wife, Peggy, suffered a horrible miscarriage, and she wants to become pregnant again as soon as possible?”

“Of course, I suppose so. But we haven’t talked about it. That’s very personal and really no one’s business but ours.” Tony said as he glanced over his shoulder at his proud wife, who offered a nervous smile and shrugged her shoulders, not knowing what Moss was up to.

“Well, Simon, it’s obvious my wife has been talking to you. So, yes, that’s probably true, although I don’t know what that has to do with this debate.”

Moss continued, “And it is true, isn’t it, that last week you had to go to Kansas City for a convention. Something to do with your work?”

Tony’s face grew worried looking. “Yes that’s true.”

The cameras moved in for close-ups of both men as Moss continued. “You say that both of these things are true, Tony, but I have proof right here that you didn’t even leave the St. Louis area.” He held up one of the pieces of paper, “I have here in my hands here, a copy of a medical bill, dated last week from a Dr. Merrill Wilson, M.D., a good friend of mine.”

“Where did you get that?” Tony asked, trying not to panic.

Moss smiled as he read from the paper, “It says here, paid in full-$580.00 for a vasectomy. It shows the patient’s name as Tony Bix. Is that you Tony?”

Tony looked out at the audience helplessly as they groaned their disapproval. He didn’t dare look at Peggy, who took a few minutes to grasp what that information meant to her. When it hit her, she just stood there silent, with a blank stare.

Simon continued. Although he was using up too much time, Rebecca Ray was not about to interrupt. She knew she had the makings of a rating hit on her hands here. The other panelists listened intently as Moss picked up the other piece of paper.

“I thought that kind of birth control was against your Catholic faith. H-m-m, I guess I was wrong? You know, Tony, you should discuss those sorts of things with your wife before you run off and do them.”

Tony didn’t respond.

“I do have one other thing here,” he held the paper in the air toward Tony, “I have this little note from one of your campaign staffers. A beautiful young girl named Michelle. Does that name ring a bell?”

“Give me that!” Tony demanded as he walked over to Simon’s podium. “Where do you get that?”

“While Peggy Bix was recovering from a miscarriage in the hospital, her husband, the honorable Mr. Bix, was in the arms of another woman. Just let me read this to your wife and the audience Tony.” Moss toyed with Tony as he reached out for the paper but couldn’t get it. Simon pulled away, then began to read as Tony gave up the fight and looked hopelessly and longingly at his wife for sympathy as the camera turned way. The cameras captured Peggy’s look of hatred towards her husband.

Moss read, “Dear Michelle, These past weeks have been fantastic. The sex was amazing. Everything was amazing. I’m sorry—.”

As Simon read the revealing note, the crowd gasped in disbelief.

Peggy instantly came dashing from the side of the stage, into view of the cameras, screaming, “I hate you. I hate you, Tony Bix.”

Tony caught her in his arms as she tried to beat him about his face. She kept screaming and crying, “I hate you. I hate you.”

Rebecca Ray yelled, “Go to a commercial. Go to a commercial! Get us off the air! Now!”

“I hate you, I hate you! Why did you do this to me, you son-of-a-bitch?” Peggy continued shouting hysterically.

Simon Moss stood with one hand in his suit pocket and one hand on the podium, with a triumphant grin on his face. The camera lights went off and two of the stage hands pulled Peggy away from Tony, who had just stood there, not moving a muscle, with all of his political dreams shattered.

The audience stood watching the events on the stage in utter disbelief. One spotlight hit the moderator, the camera light came on and Rebecca Ray gave a summation of the events, then faded to another commercial. She looked to her station manager, Steven Wagner, on the panel, smiled and winked. He returned a smile and gave her a thumbs-up sign. They both liked what had just happened.

Three weeks later, Simon Moss was elected to the United States Congress, representing the Third District of South St. Louis.

PART THREE
 

Rebecca Ray

“G
ood evening. I’m Rebecca Ray and this is the Five O’ Clock News. Leading off tonight’s local news is word that Congressman Simon Moss has introduced a bill to allocate a small area, just North of the grounds of the Gateway Arch, and just south of the Eads bridge, for the construction of the war memorial he has been pushing for since his election almost three years ago. With his first term coming to a close, the Congressman is contemplating a second one. Since, at this time there are no others vying for the seat, it’s a sure thing that he will get the nod again.”

“The cost of this monument is said to be in the neighborhood of one to two-hundred-thousand dollars. This has raised the eyebrows of some Democrats who remember Moss promising that the construction of the monument would be paid for with donations and other private funds, not by the taxpayers.”

“It seems that the Congressman has enough support to get the bill through with ease, and construction is planned to begin this month with completion scheduled for late December or early January.”

“The memorial will focus on the fighter jet that the former colonel flew in Vietnam, and a plaque with his likeness will be carved on it. Many of Moss’ adversaries believe the monument will be nothing more than a glorified advertisement for him. Simon Moss has not been available for comment.”

“In other news—.”

The beautiful Rebecca Ray continued with the news, moving from one story to the next. Her station manager, Steven Wagner, looked on. There were two large television cameras, both with red lights on top to indicate which camera was on. Rebecca looked into the camera with its red light lit. A teleprompter mounted on the front of each camera rolled the script as she read.

The thirty-minute segment ended. Rebecca said good night to her audience, then got up from behind the desk and walked over to Steven Wagner, giving him a big hug.

He kissed her on the cheek, then look ed her in the eye, “I told you that you’d be right for the anchor job, Rebecca.”

“Steven, you know me. I’ve always wanted to do this kind of work in front of the camera. I like the behind the scenes stuff, but this is where it’s at for me.”

“Well, you do get a lot more attention now, don’t you?”

“Lately, yes!”

“That’s good. It’s good for the station, too.”

“I couldn’t have done it without your support.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Why don’t we go to my office? I want to discuss the foreclosure story with you.”

“But, I don’t want to do that story, Steven. I told you that yesterday.”

“Come on, let’s go in my office, we’ll talk about it there.”

“No, Steven.”

***

“If you want to argue with me, let’s do it away from the crew. Please!”

He pulled her from the center of the studio to the sidewall. “Come over here.”

“Steven, are we still going to the Blues hockey game tonight?”

“Well, I’ve got the tickets, but I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She laughed, knowing how she’d been leading him on for the past few years. She did what she had to do to get what and where she wanted. She knew she was a tease but tried not to over do it.

Rebecca Ray had gone from copy girl four years earlier, to one of the city’s best reporters. Her work on the Bix-Moss campaign, a few years before, proved to everyone that she had the right stuff. Slowly she had gotten everyone’s attention at the station, especially Steven Wagner. He was the one who gave her the now legendary debate three years earlier, where Simon Moss made a fool out of his opponent on live TV. She was praised for her coolness in the wake of the hysteria that ensued.

Steven had fallen for her right from the start. She was a young girl right out of college, where she had been a communications major. He found it refreshing to find someone with her amount of energy. He took to her immediately as her mentor, but her sexy body and beautiful face drew him closer than he’d planned.

Rebecca knew what he wanted and felt that she did owe him something for all he’d done to further her career. The problem was, she just wasn’t attracted to him in that way. The kisses and hugs were just buddy stuff as far as she was concerned, but she knew it needed to stop.

***

“Come on, Rebecca, let’s go to my office.”

“Well, fine then, if you insist.”

The two made their way back into the newsroom, which led to another group of offices. His was the first one and also the largest. Taking a key out of his jacket, he unlocked the door and allowed Rebecca to enter first.

She turned to him as he went to his desk, rummaging through a pile of mail and memos.

“You are going to get me out of doing this foreclosure story, aren’t you, Steven?”

“Who’s going to do it if you don’t?”

“I don’t know, I just want something a little more exciting than talking to poor, homeless people who need a place to live.”

“Show a little compassion, Rebecca.”

“Steven, I’ve done my share of financial stories. I’m tired of local politics, and I can’t stomach medical news. I want something with some substance!”

“What’s left?”

“You tell me. I want a challenge!”

“I’ll make a deal with you.”

“What kind of a deal?”

“You help edit the foreclosure story, and I’ll come up with something hot for you to cover.”

“You have something?”

“No, not right now. But as soon as I get something, I’ll give you first crack at it.”

“Great! That sounds just great.”

“Hey, haven’t I always come through for you?”

“Of course, cause you like me. Right?” she giggled.

“Ah, well, that’s one hell of an understatement,” he said with all seriousness.

“Quit it, Steven. You know we could never be more than just friends.”

“Why do you say that?” he said, as a desperate look came over his face.

“Because, it’s true.”

“Don’t say that.” He started to come around the desk to hug her.

“Please. I don’t think we should do that anymore.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I want you to know something, Steven.”

“What?”

“Sit down. Let’s talk.”

“Talk?”

“Please sit.” They sat next to each other on a leather couch that sat against one of the walls.

“Steven, you’re forty-two years old. I’m fifteen years younger.”

“Age means nothing to me.”

“Steven, listen to me.”

“Okay, okay. I’m listening.”

“You’ve been divorced from your wife for over five years now. Why don’t you find a woman to spend the rest of your life with?”

“I was beginning to feel that I’d found that person,” his face grew serious.

“Me?”

“Yes, of course. Come on Rebecca, you aren’t that naive.”

“Well, you can never be too sure.” She paused, then continued, “You’re right. I’ve known all along that you would eventually start expecting more from me than a few hugs and a peck on the cheek.”

“You could tell? It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Steven, give me a break.”

They looked at each other and laughed, uncomfortably.

“Oh, Steven, if there is anything else I can do to repay all that you’ve done for me.”

He interrupted, “Just let me hold you now. That’s all I want.”

“No, no, no, “ she scolded, “we can’t do that anymore. I just want us to be friends. We have such a good working relationship, and we shouldn’t ruin it.”

He looked at her pitifully, “That’s all?”

“That’s all. I’m sorry.”

There was silence for a moment. Rebecca felt uneasy by the quiet.

“Now, come on Steven. Let’s not be so serious. How ‘bout those hockey tickets? You and me, two friends, out on the town.”

He didn’t answer. Wearing a frown, he stood up from the couch and walked out of the office. Rebecca looked at the ceiling and sighed. She took a moment to convince herself that what she’d just done was the right thing, setting the record straight with her boss, then she returned to her desk in the newsroom.

***

Steven avoided her the rest of the week and didn’t come to the studio during her news show. She knew she should have expected that reaction, but it was still a surprise. He had given the hockey tickets to one of the other girls in the office.

***

The weekend came and Rebecca had no plans. She stayed home all day and evening in her two-bedroom condo, sitting around in her underwear and football jersey, sipping red cream soda and eating a plate of scrambled eggs and fried potatoes, her favorite dish. At six o’clock she turned on the weekend network news and watched intently, taking bites of her eggs, chewing slowly, and all the while, studying all of the anchorwoman’s mannerisms.

The network was always interested in women anchors and Rebecca knew it. If Steven hadn’t been so dead set against it, she would have sent one of her news stories in long ago. He didn’t feel she was ready, but after what happened that past week, she figured it was time to start pursuing other avenues in the television business. Hopefully, the compilation of stories from the Moss campaign, her first major story, would catch the eye of some network big-wig at Rockefeller Center in New York City, the NBC headquarters.