“Are you finally here for an interview?” Chris snatched the clipboard away from the hovering production assistant and glared at it. “I swear to Christ if they tried to sneak this into the shooting schedule without talking to me—”
“Riley’s here in an official capacity,” Kellen explained.
“Back from break in thirty,” someone warned.
Griffin dragged himself away from a bronzer brush and plopped down at the news desk.
“Nice of you to join us,” Valerie the co-anchor said dryly.
Griffin scrunched up his face. “Nice of you to join us,” he mimicked.
Riley noticed his foundation cracking in several places, and the satisfied look Valerie flashed the camera.
“You’re working with the cops?” Chris demanded, ushering them toward the sound booth. “Is this a big case? Does that mean the department is employing psychics? Do you have time for an on-camera?”
“Live in. Ten…nine…”
He didn’t wait for an answer before shoving them both inside the sound studio and shutting the door.
There were fewer people manning the booth than when she’d worked here. The equipment was the same and looking a lot worse for wear. Buttons were broken. Bulbs hadn’t been replaced. The sound engineer was balanced on three wheels of a chair because the fourth was missing.
The news business was significantly less glamorous than TV and movies made it look. It was just one of adulthood’s many disappointments.
Riley tucked herself into the corner and tried to stay out of the way.
“Welcome back, Harrisburg! We’ll leave you with one last look at the weather,” Valerie said cheerfully on camera.
If I have to work here for one more year, I am going to throw myself off a bridge.
Riley jumped at the stray thought, and then another one swooped through her head.
It’ll all be over soon.
I’d like to headbutt that Gentry weasel right in the face.
Riley had wanted to shut her spiritual garage doors for the day so she could recuperate in peace, but the whole point of her being a psychic civilian consultant was the psychic thing.
Glancing around, she couldn’t figure out who she’d intercepted the thoughts from. It was like an invisible cloak of depression clung to the entire studio staff.
She grunted and watched Griffin Gentry pretend to become a real boy on camera.
“Let’s head over to our beautiful weather girl, Bella Goodshine,” Griffin said, flashing his unnaturally white teeth at the camera. “Bella, what have you got for us today?”
The cameras cut to Bella dressed in another low-cut pink blouse. Her thick, blonde hair was styled in curls the size of sausage links. “Well, handsome, I’ve gotheart eyesfor you today!” Bella chirped, making a heart with her fingers and holding them up to her face. “And a chance of severe thunderstorms with possible hail damage!”
Valerie mimed vomiting under the desk. Riley decided she liked her immensely.
“That’s all for today. Have a great Monday, Harrisburg,” Valerie said to the camera.
“From our family to yours, have a Channel 50 day,” Griffin said, throwing his trademark wink and salute at the camera.
“Go fuck yourself.”
That last thought sounded like it came from several minds at the same time.
“And we’re out,” someone on the floor announced.
Chris opened the door with a loud creak and waved them out.
