“Quick, give me a number between one and fourteen.” Jamie looked up from her phone at Tilly as she spoke.
Tilly smiled, familiar with the game. “Uh, let’s go with… eleven.”
Jamie scrolled down the song list and tapped on“Lonely Millionaire.”
“You only picked it because you know it’s my favorite,” Jamie playfully accused.
Tilly put a hand to their chest, feigning mock innocence. “I don’t know what you mean. I simply gave you a random number.”
As the intro swelled, Jamie stared out at the passing headlights. If this was all they ever trusted her with, maybe she wasn’t proving herself the way shethought she was.
* * *
Jamie sat camera right to the faces of WCVB’s evening programming, Dennis McElroy and Alison Jones. Dennis, with his clipped silver hair and no-nonsense posture, looked born for an anchor desk. Alison, vibrant in a jewel-toned blouse and effortless curls, leaned in slightly to frame the shot. Jamie felt the muscles in her cheeks start to ache as the trio waited for the camera to take the shot of them. On the playback monitor just under the lens, the end of Jamie’s package was playing, a clip of Sam holding a microphone far too big for his small hands as he rambled about the weather. The red light on the camera flicked on, and Jamie turned to Dennis and Alison.
“Isn’t he just adorable?” she asked them rhetorically before looking back to the camera aimed at the three of them. “Sam says his favorite subject in school is science, but he’s not a big fan of math. His mom, Jennifer, said he’s still learning the difference between addition and subtraction.”
Alison laughed softly, leaning toward Jamie while Dennis shook his head. Jamie smiled at their reactions.
“I hope Sam knows he’s got to use a whole lot of math if he wants to become a meteorologist,” Dennis joked, while Alison nodded.
“I told him, but he said that he does, quote, just fine without the numbers,” Jamie replied, a light tone lifting her voice.
That earned her an actual laugh from Dennis before he politely thanked her for the story. The camera shot tightened onto the two anchors, and the floor director, Mickey, gave Jamie a thumbs-up to move off the set. She quietly climbed down from the large anchor desk and walked around the rear of the cameras toward the newsroom. As she approached her desk, she was surprised to see Henry Filmore, WCVB’s longtime assignment editor, standing there with his sweater vest, clipboard, and that familiar look that said he wanted something from her.
“Weather kid turned out pretty good,” he said simply, nodding to the screen above their heads, which was about twenty seconds delayed and stillshowed Jamie on the screen.
Jamie shrugged a single shoulder. “Yeah, he was a cute kid.” She stopped in front of Henry and spun on her heel. “Do you mind?”
Henry straightened, then began to unhook her IFB box from the elastic strap that snapped in place between her bra straps, the thin strap pressing lightly between her shoulder blades. “So, I know you’re probably itching to get on some real stories,” Henry started as he withdrew his hands from her back.
Jamie turned back around to face him, a skeptical look on her face.
“Relax. It’ll be an easy one.” Henry lifted his hand to pass her the IFB box and cables.
“Okay…” Jamie replied, drawing the sound out.
“Do you remember last week, that homicide where they found the suspect asleep in the vic’s backyard?” Henry asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning back against her desk.
“Sure. Over in Medford, right?” Jamie asked, completely unsure where Henry was going. As far as she recalled, the case was pretty open and shut. The suspect had been found at the crime scene covered in the victim’s blood.
“Yeah, that’s the one. Well, we got an email just before the ten p.m. show started tonight from Erin Calhoun. She’s the public information officer for Boston PD.” Henry paused to let Jamie digest the new info. “I don’t know that you’ve worked with her yet. Anyway, they’re holding a press conference tomorrow morning to go over the details of the case. Not sure why; seemed pretty cut and dry to me.” Henry shrugged.
“Maybe it’s just because Medford hasn’t had a violent homicide in almost a decade,” Jamie suggested, and Henry’s face lit up.
“Look at you, Garrison! Doing your research. Good on ya.” Henry pulled a hand from his pocket, reached behind him on the desk, and produced a blue folder.
“This is all the coverage notes we have from last week.”
Jamie took the folder hesitantly. “Okay, but why are you giving it to me?”
Henry smiled, pushing off the desk to stand up. “Because you’re covering the press conference tomorrow.”
Jamie’s brain froze, and so did her body. Her green eyes went wide. Henry began to walk away, and she thawed, turning around to chase after him, still clutching the blue folder in her hand. “I’m sorry… did you just say that I was covering the presser?”
Henry didn’t stop walking toward the assignment desk, but he did turn to look at her. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”
Jamie’s feet felt like they wouldn’t stay underneath her. She stumbled a little, tongue tripping over her words. “No, well, I… it’s not…” Jamie stopped short and took a breath. “No, it’s not an issue. I’m just confused as to why someone who already covered it last week isn’t doing it.”
