In the end, she was stuck with a plan she came up with that wasn’t her best sabotage attempt to date, but hey, you couldn’t win ’em all. She just needed to keep her ratings low so Brandon would acknowledge that he’d made a mistake and put her back with Dave. Any little bit would help.
At the top of the hour, she fired up the microphone and modulated her voice for extra chirpiness.
“Hey, hey, hey, Beaucoeur! It’s Mae Bell here, and can youbelieveI’m starting my second month flying solo in the afternoons? Cuh-razy! So as you’ve noticed, you’re hearing a little less from me and a little more music. Now that I’m free of Dave’s morning-show music monopoly, you’re definitely hearing some different tunes. So let’s kick things off with Filter’s cover of ‘One’ fromThe X-Filesmovie soundtrack followed by the Black Keys’ “Lonely Boy.” Then we’ll see where the afternoon takes us.”
She hit the button to start the song and sagged back into her chair. Five minutes down; two hundred and thirty-five to go.
At the start of her third hour on air, she received a visitor as she pondered which version of “Space Oddity” to play.
“Mabel.” Brandon, impeccably turned out as always, lurked in the doorway. “Just coming to check on my programming brainstorm, make sure you’re properly motivated to succeed in this time slot.”
“Look at me, motivated as heck.” Mabel beamed. “Hey, which lost-in-space-all-alone song do you like better, ‘Space Oddity’ by Bowie or ‘Major Tom’ by Peter Schilling?”
He smiled thinly. “‘With or Without You,’ ‘Alone’ by Heart. I see what you’re doing.”
“Don’t forget Whitesnake’s ‘Here I Go Again (on my own)’!” she singsonged.
“Stop being cute.”
Mabel’s eyes glittered. “Stop trying to dictate my playlist. I have two more hours’ worth of music scheduled and your word that we’re free to choose our music.”
Brandon started to speak, but Mabel brandished a silencing finger and held his gaze as she flipped on the mic. “Thanks for tuning in tonight, my besties! I’m keeping the music going for your drive home, and right now here’s Har Mar Superstar with ‘Alone Again (Naturally).’”
She turned the mic off. “I’m sorry, you were saying something about going back on your promise to let us program our own shows?”
All traces of patience fell from Brandon’s expression, and he moved to face her over the soundboard. “I get it. The shitty music, the chipper-bimbo delivery. You don’t want the show to work. But the thing is, Ido.” He sighed. “You can be great in this slot. I want that for you. But if you truly don’t want it, I’ll replace you with somebody who does. Please don’t make me do that.”
Her throat grew tighter and tighter as he spoke. He saw straight through her. Of course he did; he’d grown up around his family’s radio stations, he knew the business inside and out, and he had the money and influence to crush her like a bug if that’s what he decided to do. She didn’t want this shift, but she sure as hell didn’t want to be out of a job either.
But to admit a single fault to this man who’d blown up her life was unfathomable, so she responded the only way she knew how: by lifting her chin and blustering through it. “You don’t like my on-air style? I’m wounded.”
Brandon drummed his fingers on the countertop and stared at her until she squirmed. “I honestly don’t know if you really can’t see all the potential you’re squandering here or if you’re just too stubborn to admit it. Whatever the case, this is your last chance to do your job.”
“Hey, I—” Mabel was about to argue that shehadbeen doing her job, but that was a lie. She’d abandoned her professionalism the moment she’d started broadcasting solo.
Brandon was right. She was wrong.Shit.
“Okay.” She sucked in a deep breath and forced out an apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll play it straight from now on.”
“Glad to hear it.” Brandon leaned down so their heads were level. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ll be dynamite on your own.”
Then he smiled, a real smile, and the expression was so shockingly open that she was startled into offering him a real smile of her own.
“Thanks,” she said, then narrowed her eyes. “But I’ll be playing Beck’s ‘Go It Alone’ next.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Fine. But it’s your last free pass, and I’m only allowing it because damn, do I love that crazy Scientologist. Oh, and you’ve given away too many free tickets to the I Love the 90s music fest next month. Any more and they’re coming out of your paycheck.”
With that, he turned and left the booth, shaking his hips a little in time with the music as Mabel stared after him in confusion. A reprimand, a pep talk, and another reprimand in a six-minute span? Her head spun. Still, she kept her word, playing it straight for the rest of her shift and refraining from awarding any more free tickets. She relaxed her delivery style, letting a little languor creep into her voice. She took listener requests and picked music she actually enjoyed listening to. And throughout the show, all she could hear were Dave’s words from earlier that day:Life is so short, you know? I want to spend it being happy.
She wasn’t sure what happy looked like anymore. She’d thought she had it there for a hot second, working with Dave and spending time with Jake until—
The vibration of her phone interrupted the dangerous path her thoughts were wandering. It was Aiden, probably calling about dinner. She didn’t know how it was possible, but their relationship had gotten evenmoreplatonic over the past few weeks. Maybe it came from watching him lose the battle to eat spaghetti gracefully.
“Hey you,” she said. “We still on for tonight?”
“That’s why I’m calling. I’ve got a situation at home.”
The strain in his voice gave her pause. “No worries, we can reschedule. Everything okay?”
