A Man of Honor

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A Man of Honor Page 11

by Cynthia Thomason

The only difference was Jeremy would probably land on his feet no matter what happened. Brooke might have to start over from the ground up if he failed. “Keep it strictly business, Brooke,” she said to herself. “Maybe when this is all over, there will be time for more. Only three weeks to go.”

  Unfortunately, her thoughts went back again to Saturday, a warm sun, strong arms making her feel better and an unforgettable kiss.

  CHAPTER TEN

  BY WEDNESDAY, SITUATIONS had calmed down in the newsroom. The tropical storm, which never developed into a hurricane, was hovering a hundred miles off the coast. The convenience-store robber had been captured, and Charlestonians were looking forward to Founder’s Day festivities set for the end of June.

  Location shoots were focused on costume shops and folks hunting for authentic Colonial attire for the parade.

  With time available in the broadcast studio, and encouraged by Jeremy’s recent reading in front of a camera, Brooke set up a true test screening of Jeremy’s talents as an anchor. She loaded Milt’s test script into the prompter and called Jeremy to sit at Fred Armitage’s desk. He arrived in a suit and tie, appropriate attire for an anchor. Brooke admired his dedication to get the details right, almost as much as she admired the way he looked in a suit.

  Cissy stuck by Brooke’s side, as if the test couldn’t possibly go off without her assistance. “What is he going to read?” she asked Brooke.

  “Milt included a variety of stories,” Brooke said. “There’s one about dogs being mistreated in Copington Acres, and one about a police raid on a suspected drug operation on the south side. For a lighter look at the news, and to create balance, I loaded a story about neighbors helping neighbors, specifically a volunteer project to fix up the home of a World War Two vet.”

  “Okay,” Cissy said. “That should provide a wide range of delivery options. I can’t wait to see how he does.”

  Cissy was practically rubbing her hands together like a cartoon villain. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” Brooke asked her.

  “And miss this? No way. Besides, you might need help.”

  Brooke couldn’t help thinking that the production assistant truly wanted Jeremy to bomb badly.

  Brooke gave Jeremy last-minute instructions, hoping that he would be good, but knew this was his first time in front of a rolling camera. She didn’t expect a miracle.

  “Jeremy, take the anchor’s chair and position yourself a bit forward so you’re closer to the camera. Make sure you feel comfortable in Fred’s chair. Remember what I told you about looking as if you’ve just walked into the viewers’ living room.”

  He did as she instructed. Looking at him from the control room, Brooke’s first thought was that the camera would love him. Light brown, perfectly groomed hair, square shoulders, a handsome face with enough imperfections to make him identifiable, and dimples. Brooke stared at the indentations in Jeremy’s cheeks, just slightly larger than dimples. Why hadn’t she noticed them before? They were a prominent feature of his face and would make him appear as if he could be everyone’s little brother.

  “How are you feeling, Jeremy?” she asked through the microphone attached to the earpiece at the side of Jeremy’s head. She wished she could be in the broadcast room with him, but he might as well experience directions from the news producer the way they would be delivered if this was an actual broadcast. She hoped he would be helped by seeing her through the glass divider.

  “I’m great,” he said. “Ready to give this a try.”

  “Okay. No surprises this time. No breaking news or interruption of what would be an actual news report, though this will be considerably shorter. I probably won’t be giving you any direction at all. Just read the prompter to the best of your ability. Keep your focus on the camera with the red dot lit. And, Jeremy, remember what I told you. People are watching you from their living rooms. Make them believe they invited you in.”

  “Got it,” he said.

  Brooke instructed Cissy to hit the recorder. “Okay, in ten.” She cued the WJQC news report music and graphics, and counted down, while initiating the prompter. “Five, four, three, two, one.”

  Jeremy’s voice was strong but not as confident as she’d hoped when he said, “Good evening. I’m Jeremy Crockett with the news of the day.” There was the slightest quiver in his delivery, but she could work on that.

  He delivered all three stories with very little change in his voice modulation. He reported on the home-improvement project with the same inflection that he used to tell about the drug raid. He didn’t make a mistake in pronunciation. He didn’t skip any important details. He kept up with the prompter with only a minimum of noticeable pauses—again, an easy fix. But he didn’t alter his delivery style. He even smiled while talking about the drug raid. Brooke blamed herself for overemphasizing the living-room-guest angle.

  When the five-minute trial was over, Brooke ordered the cameras to stop, opened her mic and said, “That was great, Jeremy. Take a few minutes to wind down, and I’ll talk to you later.”

  She shut down her microphone, thankfully moments before Cissy’s giggling filled the production room.

  “What are you laughing about?” Brooke asked.

  Cissy tried to contain her laughter. “Good grief, Brooke, he stunk. He’s stiff as a board.”

  “Well, what did you expect? He’s never been in front of a working camera.”

  “He’s been here three weeks,” Cissy said. “Hasn’t he learned anything?”

  “Of course he has! He’s been like a sponge, soaking up everything I’ve told him about WJQC.”

  Cissy sputtered, “Maybe you should have spent more time on camera presence, girlfriend. This guy is never going to make it as our new anchor.”

  Brooke tried to rein in her anger. “Give him a chance, Ciss. This is new to him. Remember when Fred first started? He could have put the audience to sleep.”

  “And yet...” Cissy laughed again. “He was much more exciting than Mr. Legs over there.” Cissy placed her hand on Brooke’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fault, Brooke. I know you’ve been trying with him, but he just doesn’t have what it takes, and I doubt he ever will.”

  “That’s going too far, Cissy. There’s still time left to work with Jeremy, and I’m confident I can improve his camera presence...”

  Cissy’s features grew more serious. “What are you so upset about, Brooke? This could work to our advantage. I want Jeremy to fail, don’t you? We talked about this.”

  “No. You talked about it. I want Jeremy to succeed.”

  “But you and I both deserve shots at that anchor position. Don’t you want it if I can’t have it?”

  “No, Cissy, I don’t.”

  “And you don’t think I deserve a shot?”

  “This has nothing to do with what you deserve, Cissy. Jeremy is Milt’s choice. He expects me to make him camera-perfect. Milt wants Jeremy to improve our ratings.”

  “And after that performance, you think he will?”

  Brooke felt her temper flare and the temperature rising in her cheeks. “I don’t know! What I do know is that my job depends on turning Jeremy into—” She stopped abruptly. “Never mind.”

  Cissy stared hard at Brooke’s eyes. “Into what? What does your job depend on, Brooke?”

  “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

  “Oh, no. Something’s going on. Are you saying that you won’t have a job here if you don’t make Legs into Super Anchor? Milt will fire you?”

  Brooke’s shoulders slumped. She wished she could take back the words. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Oh, dear, she’d said very little, but yet too much.

  “If that’s true, then you should be mad as hell,” Cissy said. “It’s up to you and me to open Milt’s eyes. He can’t get away with that. Does Jeremy know about this?”

  “No, he doesn’t, and you c
an’t say anything. Not a word to anyone, Cissy. Promise me.”

  “Oh, I won’t say anything, but it’s time word got out around WJQC that the anchor position is not a sure thing. Milt will see for himself that Jeremy isn’t going to make it, and that will open the door to you or me.”

  “I plan to talk to Milt before he views this tape,” Brooke said. “I’m not done with helping Jeremy. And I’m going to do everything I can to see that he is WJQC’s anchor.”

  Suddenly those words meant more than just the fulfillment of an ultimatum. Brooke truly believed them.

  “You’re wasting your time,” Cissy said. “I’m putting my money on you or me being the next WJQC anchor. And if you are half as smart as I think you are, you’ll jump on this horse with me and ride all the way to the five o’clock news.”

  One more word from Cissy, and Brooke feared she would scream. She looked out at the broadcast room where Jeremy had been pacing. “I’ve got to go talk to him,” she said. “Remember, what we discussed is just between you and me.”

  “Of course. But I have your best interests at heart even if you don’t. Sometimes it takes a friend to make you realize your true potential.” Cissy headed for the door. “The guy may be gorgeous, but for our purposes at WJQC, he’s a loser. Deep down you know that.”

  * * *

  JEREMY STOPPED PACING the minute he saw Brooke enter the studio. All smiles, he came over to her. “Well, how was it? For a first-timer, not bad, right?”

  He seemed like a boy, wanting to be praised for hitting a home run. Brooke simply couldn’t crush that enthusiasm. Besides, Cissy’s opinion was so one-sided and self-motivated.

  “Not bad,” she echoed.

  “I’m sure you have a few comments,” he said. “I never expected to be perfect my first time in front of a camera.”

  She plastered a smile on her face. “Well, yes, I do have a few suggestions.”

  “Great.” He took her elbow and led her to a quiet corner of the room. “It’s almost time for the news,” he said. “I’ll wait until you’re finished and then why don’t we go out for a drink and we can talk about ways I might improve my performance. What do you say?”

  What could she say? She had to tell him the truth and maybe over a drink would be the best way. They would both be relaxed. “Sure. Meet you at Pickler’s at six thirty?”

  “Pickler’s it is. See you there.”

  He left the studio, and Brooke watched the production crew set up for Fred’s newscast. She smiled at Fred as he approached the news desk, a makeup artist trailing after him. Fred always asked the makeup artist to make him look ten years younger. Brooke had learned long ago that he wasn’t joking around. Over the time she’d known him, Fred had acquired quite a vanity streak. She sighed, thinking maybe the best way out of this mess was to convince Fred the station couldn’t live without him and he should cancel his retirement. If she said that, Fred would be the only person Brooke was going to flatter tonight.

  After the broadcast Brooke walked over to Pickler’s. Jeremy was seated by the door under a soft overhead light. Her knees went a bit weak. He’d abandoned his tie, unbuttoned his sports coat and loosened the collar of his shirt. This man would certainly not have to make special requests of the makeup artist.

  He stood and pulled a chair out for her. “How’d it go tonight?”

  “Fine. Slow news day. Fred even got to report on a cat rescued from a sewer drain.”

  Jeremy chuckled. “What can I get you from the bar?”

  “Just a red wine, please. I managed to get over here without spraining anything, but I still have to drive home.”

  “If you had sprained anything, I would have been happy to drive you home,” he said and headed to the bar.

  And I would have been happy to let you, she thought. Ten days had passed since The Kiss, and while Brooke’s memories of the event hadn’t faded, she definitely wanted to see if what her senses remembered was the real thing. There was only one way to test that, so she shook her head. “Not tonight, Brooke. And maybe after this meeting, never again.”

  He returned to the table, placed a wineglass in front of her and poured from the decanter. He pulled his chair around the table and sat close to her. He had chosen an intimate spot in the bar, away from the thinning happy-hour crowd. It was quiet, nice...romantic, even.

  She lifted her glass. “Thanks.”

  “I know we have to talk about my performance,” he said, “but can I bend your ear about another matter first?”

  “Of course you can.” She felt a wave of relief. Maybe the glass of wine would steady her nerves or at least give her courage.

  “I want to talk about my daughter, Alicia.”

  “Oh, okay.” If he only knew, she was probably the least qualified person to talk about children, but thanks to her association with her ten-year-old niece, she did know a bit about girls. They liked to pick out their own clothes, watch movies, eat ice cream. Somehow she doubted that this conversation was going to follow those parameters.

  “I’ve wanted to have you out to the house again,” Jeremy began. “But I realize the last time you were with my kids, Ally didn’t do anything to make you feel comfortable.”

  Jeremy frowned. “Usually Ally is happy to meet new people, but I guess you can understand that the last year has not been easy for her.”

  “I understand completely.”

  “She wasn’t herself on that ride back from Hidden Oaks,” Jeremy explained. “Ordinarily she’s talkative and a curious kid, always asking questions. All that has changed since her mother... Cody seems to have found a balance while Ally is still struggling.”

  “Getting over such a loss takes time, Jeremy.”

  “I know. But I’m running out of ways to reach her, to help with her grieving. I’m watching my sweet little girl become more and more withdrawn.”

  Brooke wished she could think of something to say that wasn’t a platitude, but again, she hadn’t experienced the kind of loss that Alicia and Cody had. Though sometimes she felt that not knowing about Edward was something like a loss.

  Jeremy took a deep breath and let it go. “I can’t let Ally’s sadness take over her life. And it is. Her grades are suffering. She’s moody. She’s obstinate. You saw firsthand with that display in the kitchen.”

  Brooke tapped her finger on her wineglass. “Maybe you should take her to see someone. A therapist. We did a story on family counselors in Charleston. We have a number of really good ones.”

  “I’ll look into that, first thing. She saw a therapist in Colorado,” Jeremy said. “We—her grandparents and I—thought she was okay, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Brooke said. “And I feel badly for both of you. Is there anything I can do to help?” She hesitated to say more, feeling she was out of her depth.

  He took a long swallow of his drink. Maybe he needed courage, too. “I was hoping that you could talk to her. I know Ally hasn’t been over the moon around you, but she needs a strong female in her life... It’s what she’s been missing and I can’t give that to her.”

  “But Alicia hasn’t shown that she wants me for a friend, Jeremy. I’m likely the last person she wants to confide in.”

  “I know, and I realize that what I’m asking is a huge imposition.”

  “No, it isn’t, and I would love to help, but I’m hesitant because Alicia is so negative toward me.”

  “The truth is she resents you, as if you’re trying to take her mother’s place. But if she got to know you better...”

  “That’s a tough one,” Brooke said. “I would never do that. Take her mother’s place.”

  “I know it,” Jeremy said. “But Ally’s emotions are all over the place and she sees things differently than we do. And if you and I are going to continue to hang out with each other—”

  “Are you talk
ing about a relationship? Maybe now isn’t the right time to be thinking about that. Ally is still adjusting and we’ve only known each other a few weeks.”

  “If you don’t want to see me again on a personal level, then just tell me. But if you do, I’m asking you to maybe spend some time with my daughter. Just give it a try. Once she sees how smart and kind you are... It’s not like her to form an opinion about someone so quickly.”

  “And show that I’m not a threat to her mother’s memory?”

  “Yes, that, too.”

  She drummed her fingers on the table. “Gee, Jeremy, you’re not asking a lot.”

  “I know it’s a lot, Brooke.” He covered her arm with his palm. “But you are the first woman besides Lynette in years that I’ve felt any connection with. And I felt it from the first time I saw you bustling around the newsroom with your hair all...” He wiggled his fingers around his own head. “I’d like to see if this might work between us. What about you?”

  Yes. I would like very much to give this a try. But not now. Not when nearly everything that means something in my life depends on how you succeed. Not when you have a troubled daughter, and I don’t know the first thing about how to untrouble her. Not when my heart is beating so fast right now that I feel I might run a marathon in a minute.

  “It would mean so much to me,” Jeremy added.

  Brooke thought about all the reasons she should avoid approaching Alicia, but Jeremy’s last words got to her. She said, “Maybe I could speak to Ally, Jeremy. But don’t get your hopes up. I’ve never had kids.” Never wanted any. “With the exception of my nieces, they are alien beings to me.”

  He leaned in, kissed her lightly on the lips. “Thank you. So after we stay here and have dinner tonight, you’ll come out to the house again soon?”

  “We’re having dinner?”

  He laughed. “I guess I sprung that on you. Believe me, when I was contemplating how I would approach you with my feelings, I wasn’t the least bit hungry. Now...” He brushed a lock of her hair off her shoulder. “Now I could eat a twelve-ounce steak, no problem.”

 

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