All of Me

by ANDREA SMITH

  Talk about putting some pressure on the situation. I was sweating like a whore in church, as Ramona might say, but I’d prepped so hard for this, crossed my fingers and toes, and said a novena, even though I wasn’t raised Catholic, for me not to flub this opportunity.

  I’d prepared my opening remarks to reach out to callers to call in, and Dirk had approved it with a chuckle and what I take was a compliment. “You’re really funny, Autumn. I think you’re going to knock this out of the park.”

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling myself glow at the praise. For some reason, I didn’t think Dirk Sexton was typically generous with compliments. And I knew I didn’t want to disappoint.

  I was in my sound booth. Neil had once again gone over the console buttons, the hand signs he might give me from behind the glass window and wished me luck.

  “What if nobody calls in?” I asked, my insecurity rearing its ugly head.

  “Relax, Autumn,” he said soothingly. We’ve got you covered in case we need to kick it up a notch on your debut broadcast.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, biting my lower lip.

  “We’ve got Bridget and Dirk on their phones at home to call in should there be a lull, so chill out babe, relax, and just be you. That’s what we want, and I know you can deliver. We’re live in three,” he finished, leaving my booth and going into his, taking a place behind the glass partition.

  I calmed my nerves by repeating a silent mantra in my mind that I’d learned when Summer had dragged me to one of her Yoga or maybe it was a Transcendental Meditation class - whatever, I intended to put it to use now.

  I looked over at the glass window separating me from Neil, and saw his hand up, and each finger closing until he got to none and pointed his index finger for me to go.

  “Good evening,” I started, my voice smooth and steady, “I would say good night but that would sound like farewell and this gal is just getting started.

  “Yeah, it’s midnight, but the last time I looked, we live in a 24/7 universe, am I right? Of course, I am. My name is Autumn Dey, and for the next three hours I’m going to be with you.

  “Keeping you company.

  “Distracting you.

  “Maybe even entertaining you. You might be home soaking in a nice hot bath, doing your nails, or walking your colicky baby hoping you can finally collapse into your own awaiting bed. Maybe you’re just getting home from your second shift job, grabbing a bite to eat, or having a beer to wind down from your day.

  “Perhaps you’ve had an argument with your significant other and can’t fall asleep. Or maybe you’ve just finished making love and while your significant other is snoring in his afterglow, you decided listening to the radio was better than trying to sleep on the wet spot. Or you could just be one of those nocturnal beings who loves the dark and quiet of the night.

  “No matter what the situation, Autumn is here to listen, give advice, ease your loneliness, make you laugh, piss you off, but one thing I promise you: I’m genuine and I tell it like it is because I’m real. And as long as you want to keep it real, I’m here for you.

  “My producer, Neil has given me the signal that we have a commercial break. Don’t go away. If you want to chat, call me. I’m here and you can tell me about it. It’s 555-WQRK. Stay tuned-in.”

  I pushed the blue illuminated button to send it to commercial. Neil gave me the thumbs up. I had more notes written, but as soon as the commercial and station call letters were announced, I saw buttons on the console in front of Neil light up. He was talking on his phone, and gave me the ‘we’re live,’ signal.

  “Hi, Autumn’s back. I see we have some calls coming in. Hot damn. Who do we have on Line 1 Neil?” I asked.

  “Autumn, we have Jane Doe calling from Fort Wayne. She thinks her husband is cheating on her and is ready to give her the boot.”

  Oh shit! This couldn’t be a pithy response. Jane was in pain. I could do this.

  “Hi Jane, tell me about it.”

  There was a slight pause, and then a very tentative female voice spoke. “My name isn’t really Jane Doe, Autumn. But I can’t risk somebody recognizing me if they’re listening to your show.”

  “I completely understand, Jane. Fill me in on why you think your hubby is a cheating schmuck and is ready to toss you to the curb for his side piece.”

  “Well,” she said, “I’ve been tracking his whereabouts on his cell. He doesn’t know that, and I feel awful for doing it, but he’s been missing in action, telling lies, and for the last six months he’s lost weight, he works out, and has bought a whole new wardrobe of clothes.”

  She hesitated for a moment. “Plus... well, he has no interest in sex anymore. He used to have a healthy sexual appetite.”

  “Okay, Jane. Kudos to you for tracking the douche bag’s activities. Can I ask you what your financial situation is?”

  “Well, my hubby makes loads of money. He has never allowed me to work because he likes me to be home, making dinner, keeping the house spotless, ironing his clothes and taking care of our daughter. But the thing is, she’s in college now so there’s not much for me to do. I feel it coming. I know he wants out. But I feel like I have nothing. I never finished college or held a job outside of my home. I’m forty-two years old. I’m frantic about my future.”

  My heart went out to this woman with every fiber of my being. How many women were going through the same thing? Being treated as an indentured servant until they’d served their purpose and then being tossed aside.

  “Jane,” I said, “What are your own personal financial resources? By that I mean cash, investments, jewelry, savings account in your name only?”

  There was a pause. “Well, he gives me a couple hundred dollars a week for incidentals. I’ve tucked some of that away. I have some jewelry... oh, he gave me a couple of credit cards for emergencies.”

  “Okay, listen to me. You take those credit cards and max them out now. But be prudent with your purchases. Make sure they have re-sell value.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “Buy jewelry, precious stones, gold and silver coins, cash advances, but do it all before the next billing cycle. Then my friend, you take some of that stash and hire the best damn divorce lawyer you can find. Empower yourself, Jane. You deserve half of whatever he has and it sounds as if he’s got a lot.”

  “Thank you, Autumn. I feel empowered by just knowing that I do have options now. He may control one of the largest hedge funds in the state, but he will not control me any longer!”

  “Cha Ching Jane! You go girl!”

  Neil gave me another thumbs up and then spoke through his mic. “Autumn, we have Donna from Speedway on Line 2, she’s having issues with her boyfriend.”

  God, I truly hoped this wasn’t going to be a lonely hearts club.

  “Go ahead, Donna, tell me about it.”

  “My boyfriend’s been acting so strange lately. It kinda feels like he’s been pushing me away and I can’t figure out why. He seems to be upset about something, but I can’t get a grasp on it.”

  She didn’t leave me much to work with here.

  “Donna, whatever he’s upset about, I’m sure that it’s not that complicated. It’s been my experience, that men are very basic creatures. Have you asked him what the deal is?”

  “Well, I don’t want to ask in case it’s his job. He’s a police officer and he can’t share everything that goes on in the department. He’s usually not a difficult read but I’ve gone through my checklist: Is he hungry? Is he just tired? Is he horny?”

  “Hun, maybe it’s all three,” I quipped.

  “Oh God, how will I deal with that?” she asked sounding a bit frantic.

  “Easy peasy. Climb on top of him with a donut in your mouth and wait for him to fall asleep. Who’s our next caller, Neil?”

  Neil was cracking up on the other side of the glass. “Autumn, we have Francine from Kokomo on the line. She’s extremely upset about how t
he school her seventh grader attends is treating her son.”

  “Hi Francine, what’s going on with your son?” I asked.

  “Thank you for taking my call Autumn. My husband and I are just out of sorts with the educational system in this state. Our seventh grade son is being bullied.”

  “Bullied? I thought most schools had finally implemented long needed anti-bullying policies?”

  “No, you don’t understand,” she whined. “He’s not being bullied by other kids, it’s one of his teachers who’s targeting him. She’s been on his case the whole school year! My husband and I have both complained about her, but the damn school administration has turned a blind eye to it!”

  “Whoa, hold up here, Francine. What exactly is this teacher doing that constitutes bullying?”

  “Well, my son, Jeb, is involved in lots of extra-curricular activities which we feel are every bit as important as the academics. We want our son to be a well-rounded individual. So, he turned a couple of projects in late, and do you know he received a zero on them!”

  “What do you mean by late? Most schools have handbooks that lay out consequences for things like that, don’t they? You know, partial credit on a descending scale for late projects?”

  “Well... “ she paused, and I knew I was going to hear more to this story. “One of the projects was due second quarter, the other one was due third quarter, but he had them both turned in before the end of the semester, and boom! He got zero credit for both. Which means he failed the semester and now will have to attend summer school. That’s going to totally screw up his summer baseball program!”

  Oh, for crud sake! I had a helicopter parent on the phone. Probably one that will buy Jeb his acceptance ticket into some Ivy League college.

  Puhleeze!

  I suddenly had a new-found respect for the poor teachers and administrators in the Education sector of our country.

  “Francine, can I be frank with you? I have a strong opinion on this.”

  “Of course,” she replied, “Give me something, anything. I’m at wits end here.”

  “Okay, so here it is Francine. From what you just told me, it sounds like you and hubby are propagating this upcoming generation of thin-skinned sissies! This entitlement thing makes me want to puke, and I’m betting most of Jeb’s teachers would join me at the commode. I mean c’mon what’s with not keeping score at little league baseball or pee wee football and soccer games?”

  She hesitated for a moment. “Well as a parent, I think it’s a great idea. We don’t want our children going home feeling like losers, do we?”

  “But that’s my point, Francine. Some of them are losers, and the sooner parents like you get with the program and the reality of ‘that’s life,’ the less chance there’ll be of your little Jeb crouching in a bell tower with a high-powered rifle and the picture of the president. Send his poor teacher a “Thank you” card for putting up with the little slacker, Francine, and prepare your son for the real world. Not one where everybody gets a trophy or cheats their way into something they haven’t earned.”

  We broke for commercial and weather reporting and Neil came into the booth. “Doing great Autumn,” he said with a smile. “We’ve got four more in the queue.”

  “Any males?” I asked, because I didn’t want this to turn into a chick show.

  “Yep,” he replied, “We’ve got Dustin who wants to know why women always go to the powder room together, and Henry.”

  “What’s Henry’s story?”

  “Uh... he wants to know what you’re wearing,” he replied sheepishly.

  I laughed. “Put Henry through first after the break. I’m going to have some fun with this.”

  “Will do, and oh, by the way, Dirk called in earlier and wants to know if you can meet him for lunch at the station today. He wants to talk about doing theme nights on the show.”

  “Great idea,” I replied. “I’ll be there at noon.”

  I had a good feeling about this show.

  Ten

  Dirk

  I listened to the show last night and Autumn did exactly what I hoped she would do. She brought the numbers up to an above par level. For the first time in recent decades, WQRK was on the rise during the late-night sequence.

  That is why I had a bit of a hop in my step today.

  A bit of a twinkle in my greedy eye.

  A bit of a boner in my freshly steam-ironed dress pants when I thought of her sister.

  Shaking Neil’s hand and patting him on the shoulder in a way only we men can appreciate, I thanked him for a job well-done and asked him when I could expect Autumn.

  “She’ll be in for lunch, boss. I’m guessing she needs her beauty sleep after the late night,” he chuckled and went on his way to plan the upcoming schedule.

  I frowned at his expression, not quite liking it but not knowing why it bothered me. Thankfully, my secretary Bridget interrupted my musings and brought my attention back to more important matters.

  “Your father called. He’ll be in at two for a meeting.”

  The day was getting better and better.

  “Excellent. Thank you, Bridget. Could you have Garrett’s Deli deliver two specials, hold the mustard and make sure someone gets some coffee and Earl Grey tea into the conference room after lunch, please?” I asked then stopped and looked pointedly at my assistant.

  “Make sure it’s Earl Grey. We wouldn’t want him to have a coronary over the choice of hot beverages, now would we?” I muttered the last part because why the fuck would Bridget care?

  Unless she was sleeping with him. I suddenly stopped in my tracks before reaching my office door. I turned, afraid of seeing my very trustworthy and competent assistant in a different light.

  Would there be an outward sign that she and my father were participating in the bedroom Olympics?

  Holy shit, what was wrong with me?

  Thank fuck HR couldn’t take a guided tour through the clusterfuck that was my brain.

  “Thanks,” I said before walking into my office and getting to work, eager to work out a long-term plan with Autumn and Midnight Caller.

  Time to make some cash.

  I arrived in the conference room with four minutes to spare but Autumn was already there, pouring herself a large glass of water.

  I left the door open to avoid any type of rumors. I didn’t care about myself, mostly because the rumors tended to be true, but I didn’t need to muddle Autumn’s reputation. We had money to make and having her walk out of the station with a potential lawsuit for defamation was not a great way to get the cash flowing.

  “Great job last night, Autumn. You are exactly what we were looking for,” I said, joining her at the makeshift bar and poured myself a glass of water and served myself some lunch.

  “I hope you like Garrett’s, I’m a bit addicted to their Rueben,” I chuckled, thinking of the last time I was there and the owner turned up the radio to show his loyalty.

  “I absolutely love Garrett’s. True story, Garrett used to play football with my father at Purdue,” she blurted with a proud look in her eyes.

  “No shit!” I offered her a plate and let her get settled in before serving myself.

  “Yep. Once in a while, they’ll get together and reminisce about the good ol’ days. Whatever that means.” She made her way to the table and sat with her back to the wall of windows that dominated the Indy skyline.

  “I guess that garners loyalty from the get-go,” I said, sitting at the head of the table, close to Autumn for practical reasons.

  She had a scent about her that was quite addictive. I knew nothing about perfume or flowers, for that matter, but I liked that it didn’t tickle my nose and cause me to sneeze fifty times.

  “Frankly, I’m surprised Garrett went to Purdue. No offense but he doesn’t seem…” I needed to shut the fuck up.

  Shut your mouth, Dirk. Just shut…

  “… all that bright.” Oh, you asshole.


  Autumn burst into a genuine roar of laughter and I found myself mesmerized by the sound. The roque timber of her voice was the perfect blend for the radio and it was…sexy as hell.

  With her head thrown back, her dark brown hair flowing behind her caught the sun’s rays and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  “I’m sorry,” I said not quite sure about what, exactly.

  Was I sorry to be staring at her or because I suddenly wanted to bury my hands in her hair and find out if it was as silky as it looked?

  “Don’t worry about it. He’s no Einstein but he’s a good guy and got recruited for his football skills so, no harm, no foul.”

  Right. I was apologizing for being a rude prick.

  “So, I wanted to meet with you about finding some kind of plan going for Midnight Caller. A theme, if you will.”

  “Okay, let’s hear it,” she said, taking a big bite of the Reuben, sans mustard.

  “Everything was perfect last night. Just remember, we don’t need to have anyone turning their backs on us but at the same time, we need to be real.” I hedged, not wanting to get her heckles up.

  “The parent, right?” She nodded, knowing exactly to what I was referencing. Although I couldn’t imagine a plethora of parents listening to our show when it was so late at night but no use in losing those numbers, right?

  “Yeah. Keep it real but, you know, make sure they come back to listen and call-in.” I took a bite of my sandwich, quickly wiping the remnants off my mouth and giving her an emblematic smirk that made many a panty incinerate to ashes.

  But Autumn didn’t even blink. She was completely immune to my charm.

  “Sure thing, boss. Although, come on. You know I’m right. Those parents need to get their shit together and let their kids work for it.”

  I absently wondered if it would be appropriate to ask her about her sister.

  Shut it down, asshole. Shut. It. Down.

  An hour and a half later, we’d sorted out the details, satisfied that our vision would take Indy by surprise. Or as Autumn described it, “Let’s grab Indy by the balls!”