The Midnight Couch

by Jae

  Paula grinned. Dr. Christine Graham is a romantic. Who knew?

  Anita inhaled and exhaled audibly. “You’re right. I’ll confront him after Valentine’s Day.”

  “Why put it off?” Christine asked. “It’s too easy to let the days slip by while your life hangs in limbo.”

  “Okay,” Anita said, now sounding a little more confident. “Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  That’s what I keep saying, Sister. Paula pulled into the parking garage of her apartment building and waited until Christine ended the call before switching off the engine and the radio. She opened the driver-side door and got out. “Tomorrow,” she said and slammed the door with more force than necessary.

  * * *

  When the familiar clickety-clack of Christine’s heels echoed down the hallway at five past eleven, Paula stuck her head out of studio B, where she had set up guest mikes for the morning show. She’s early today. This is your chance. Now or never. She had practiced what she would say all day, and now she was ready. Kind of.

  But when Christine rounded the corner, she wasn’t alone.

  Dave, the host of their late-night music program, followed her and was leaning a little too close. “Thanks for covering for me yesterday, Chris,” he said, touching her arm.

  Christine pulled her arm away and, with a quick glance and a wave, marched past Paula. “You’re welcome.” Her soft lilt hardened. “And it’s Christine.” She disappeared into her studio and closed the heavy door, leaving Dave behind.

  Go, girl! Paula grinned. Nothing was hotter than a woman who stood up for herself. But she would never go out with that hot woman if she let all of her chances slip through her fingers. Paula sent a determined glance toward Christine’s studio. Come hell or high water, she would ask her out after the show.

  * * *

  Paula turned up the volume so she wouldn’t miss even one of the softly spoken words while she did her paperwork at the reception desk.

  “You’re gonna get through this,” Christine said, her voice oozing warmth and sincerity.

  Her caller sniffled. “Okay.”

  “Please stay on the line. My producer will give you some numbers for really good therapists in your area.”

  “Thank you.”

  After a moment, Christine’s voice returned. “We’re out of time for tonight, but we’ll be back tomorrow. Also, be sure to tune in on Saturday night at ten for our Valentine’s Day special. We will be talking about being single on Valentine’s Day, and we’ll have listeners call in to reveal their secret love on The Midnight Couch.”

  Paula swallowed. Time was running out. Just forty-eight hours until her self-imposed deadline ended.

  “Thanks for listening. Good night, Southern California. Sweet dreams.”

  The station switched to a commercial, and seconds later, a door opened down the hall and rapid steps approached.

  Christine entered the reception area, already wearing her coat, the messenger bag slung across her chest.

  Now. Ask her. But when she opened her mouth, what came out was, “Hey, Christine. Great show.”

  “Aye.” Christine stopped in front of the reception desk and put one hand on it. “Now I can put curing hiccups on the list of my professional accomplishments. Did you catch that call?”

  Paula laughed. “I sure did. The poor guy nearly choked to death when you told him to put something in his mouth.”

  “What’s wrong with that? I was talking about a lollipop or something like that.” Christine’s eyes twinkled.

  “Sure. After talking about contracting muscles in that voice of yours, I’m sure that’s all he was thinking about too.”

  Christine shrugged. “Can I help it if he confused the glottis with the clitoris?”

  Heat shot up Paula’s neck and through the rest of her body. Speechless, she stared at Christine. I can’t believe I’m sitting here, talking about clitorises with Dr. Christine Graham.

  Christine just grinned. She seemed to be in an especially good mood tonight.

  Now! Do it!

  But Christine was already buttoning her coat, preparing to leave.

  Paula gathered her courage. “Christine? Do you have a minute?”

  Christine glanced at her wristwatch. “Can it wait until tomorrow? I really need to get home.”

  Damn. That sounded as if someone was waiting for Christine at home. I waited too long. Paula tried not to let her disappointment show.

  Nearly bouncing up and down, Christine beamed at her. “I’m gonna be a grandmother. Maybe I already am.”

  A grandmother? Paula gaped at her. According to Christine’s bio on the station’s website, which Paula knew almost by heart, she was just thirty-five years old. Was she really already a grandmother at that age?

  Christine laughed. “Don’t look at me like that. Max, my dog, is about to give birth.”

  A female dog called Max? Paula arched one brow.

  “Long story,” Christine said as if she could read her mind. “I’ll tell you another time. A neighbor is looking in on her. That’s why I’m in a bit of a hurry to get home.”

  “Okay, then go, Grandma.” Paula shooed her away.

  Laughing, Christine strode toward the doors. Over her shoulder, she called, “I’ll bring you some pictures.”

  Pictures of Christine with cute puppies were nice, but not really what Paula had been after. Well, maybe Christine would invite her over to see the puppies. Guess I’ll find out tomorrow. She gathered her paperwork and wondered how tomorrow had become her new mantra.

  * * *

  Once again, Paula got just a smile and a wave when Christine came in, since she was up on a ladder, fixing the flickering on-air light outside of studio C. The rest of the night kept her busy in the transmitter room, so she couldn’t listen to the show while she worked.

  When she finally returned to the main area, it was a few minutes before two in the morning. She settled behind the empty reception desk with her paperwork and a cup of coffee and turned on the radio to catch the rest of The Midnight Couch.

  Instead of Christine’s voice, static crackled through the speakers.

  Paula frowned. What the hell was going on? Dead air was considered a major sin in radio broadcasting. Christine had never messed up in the two years since she had begun working for KWSG. It had to be a technical problem.

  Before she could jump up to check Christine’s microphone and the sending unit of the STL, the speakers came to life.

  “This is Dr. Christine, signing off. Good night, Southern California, and please be safe out there.”

  Paula knew that voice better than she knew her own. Sometimes, she even heard it in her dreams, but she had never heard Christine sound like this. Gone were the smooth, warm tones Paula was used to. Christine’s voice sounded hollow and stiff.

  Then her signature tune signaled the end of the show, and a commercial started playing.

  A door slammed farther down the hall, and heels clicked over the floor in a rapid staccato.

  Paula craned her neck.

  Christine strode past Paula without saying a word or sending a single glance her way.

  “Uh, Christine? Is everything—?”

  But Christine didn’t stop or turn. The doors swished closed behind her.

  Paula knew she should check the modulation monitor and the equipment in the studio to make sure there would be no repeat of dead air.

  Torn, Paula looked back and forth between the doors and the hallway, where the control room and the studio were. “To hell with it.” She dashed around the desk and almost collided with the glass doors when they didn’t slide apart fast enough. Once outside, she skidded to a stop and looked around.

  Christine’s car was still parked in its usual spot, so she couldn’t have gone far.

  As Paula’s eyes adjusted to the near darkness outside, she made out Christine’s familiar shape.

  She leaned against a palm tree as if needing it to hold herself up. Even though she was slender a
nd just five feet tall, she had never looked fragile—now she did, though. She had her back to Paula, but Paula didn’t need to see her face to know that something was wrong. Very wrong.

  With her heart in her throat, Paula walked over and hovered behind her, not knowing what to say. Finally, she cleared her throat so she wouldn’t scare Christine.

  Christine turned. There were no tears in her eyes, but in the dim light, her cornflower-blue irises looked gray and upset.

  “Are you okay?” Paula asked and then mentally slapped herself. That was a stupid question. Obviously, Christine wasn’t okay.

  She nodded and patted down her pockets, as she had done before she’d given up smoking three weeks after starting at the station. Was she searching for a cigarette pack? When her search didn’t unearth what she’d been looking for, she paused and looked over at Paula.

  A lump formed in Paula’s throat. She stepped closer, gently took Christine’s arm, and tugged her down until they were sitting side by side on a low concrete wall. “What happened?”

  “A woman from San Diego called and…” Christine squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her head against Paula’s shoulder for a moment.

  That sign of trust gave Paula the confidence to wrap one arm around her. A wave of tenderness swept through her, and she barely held herself back from kissing Christine’s hair. Instead, she just held her and waited, not pressuring her to talk before she was ready, just as Christine always did on her show.

  “She tried to kill herself while she was on air,” Christine whispered. “I have no idea if she made it or not.”

  “Oh God.” Paula’s stomach knotted. She tightened her grip on Christine. “That’s horrible. Why would she do something like that?”

  “Her husband left her. Just disappeared after thirty years of supposedly happy marriage, without saying a word. As soon as I realized where things were going, I signaled Tyler to call the police while I tried to keep her on the line.” Christine covered her eyes with one hand. “I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t stop her. She had been drinking while we talked and then she… She swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills while she was on the phone with me. At one point, she just stopped talking. I guess she dropped the phone when she passed out. Next thing I know, a police officer was on the phone. He said they rushed her to a hospital, but I don’t know if they got to her in time.”

  Paula rubbed her arm, feeling the tense muscles quiver under her hand. “No matter what happens to her, it’s not your fault.”

  “Sure feels like it,” Christine mumbled.

  Not knowing what else to say, Paula repeated what Christine always told her listeners, “You can’t control anyone’s behavior but yours.”

  Christine laughed, still shaky, but sounding a little bit more like herself now. “Giving me a dose of my own medicine, huh?”

  Paula shrugged and gave her an embarrassed little smile.

  Christine wrapped one arm around her and squeezed. “Thanks.” She rested against Paula for a few more seconds.

  The automatic doors behind them swished open. “Christine?” Tyler called.

  “I’m here.” Christine let go of Paula and stood. A bit of dirt clung to her skirt, but she didn’t seem to care.

  Paula got up too and adjusted her tool belt.

  Tyler came over to them. “The police called.”

  Christine sucked in a breath and gripped Paula’s arm. “Any news on the woman?”

  “She’ll be fine. They pumped her stomach in the emergency room. Seems like they caught her just in time.”

  “Oh, thank God!” Christine’s knees seemed to weaken. She slumped against Paula, who wrapped her arm around her to keep her upright.

  “Yeah.” Tyler shuffled his feet. “I thought you’d want to know right away.”

  “Of course. Thanks.”

  Tyler disappeared inside, leaving Paula and Christine in a near embrace, staring at each other.

  “I’m so glad for you,” Paula said. “Seems you saved a life tonight.” She was very proud of Christine.

  “Aye.” Christine blew out a breath and slowly let go. “I think we should both get out of here now. I’m done in.”

  “Yeah. And you should take the day off tomorrow.” It had been a pretty close call tonight, and she couldn’t imagine that someone as empathic as Christine would get over it that fast, even though she had ultimately saved the woman’s life.

  Christine sighed. “I wish I could, but it’s Valentine’s Day. The show must go on, right?”

  Unfortunately, she was right. “I guess.” Paula stayed at her side as Christine walked to her car. She waited until Christine had unlocked the driver-side door. “Will you be all right?”

  Christine turned toward her, and the warmth returned to her eyes, which looked almost midnight blue in the dim light in the parking lot. “I’ll be fine.” She reached out and squeezed Paula’s hand.

  Was it just her imagination, or did the touch linger a hint longer than expected between co-workers?

  “Thank you, Paula.” Another squeeze, then Christine climbed behind the wheel, started the car, and slowly drove away.

  Paula watched her taillights disappear in the distance. She stood for another minute before marching back inside to get her coat and car keys. She left the radio off on the way home.

  * * *

  When Paula entered the station at six on Valentine’s Day, half of her colleagues from the day shift were still there. Julie, the receptionist, hadn’t gone home yet either. She was on the phone while another phone somewhere rang off the hook.

  Paula stopped in front of the reception desk and lifted a brow.

  Julie covered the phone with one hand. “Valentine’s Day craziness,” she whispered. “The media keeps calling because of that suicide attempt we had live on air yesterday, and now I’m on the phone with a guy who keeps calling to find out Christine’s address. He wants to send her a gift basket for Valentine’s Day.”

  A wave of protectiveness gripped Paula. “I hope you didn’t give out her address. Tell him to stick his gift basket elsewhere.”

  “Don’t worry,” Julie said. “I never give out addresses, no matter how much someone insists that he’s not a stalker and just wants to let her know how he feels.”

  Paula snorted. “Get in line, buddy.”

  Julie looked up at her. “Uh, what?”

  Shit. Had she said that out loud? “Um, I said you have a call on the other line too.” She quickly marched past Julie to the storage room to get her tools.

  * * *

  Knowing Christine would be in earlier than usual, since her show would start at ten instead of midnight, Paula started checking every piece of equipment in her studio. She adjusted the speaker and headphone volumes to the settings that she knew Christine preferred. She even opened the control board to make sure everything was wired in correctly.

  “All done?” Tyler asked from the doorway.

  “Give me a minute.” Paula knew she was stalling, but she wanted to be there when Christine came in and make sure she was all right. She pulled a screwdriver from her belt and tightened a screw on the microphone boom that didn’t need to be tightened. When she finally put the screwdriver away, she glanced toward the large glass window.

  Christine was walking toward the studio. In black slacks that emphasized her slim hips and a blouse that mirrored the blue of her eyes, she looked as beautiful as ever, but even subtle makeup couldn’t hide the shadows beneath her eyes.

  Paula took three quick steps and held the heavy door open for her. “Hey,” she said gently. “How are you doing?”

  Christine nodded her thanks and entered the studio. “I’m okay. Thanks again for coming after me yesterday.”

  “Anytime,” Paula said and meant it.

  Their gazes met and held. It felt almost like the one-armed embrace they had shared yesterday, and Paula longed to take her into her arms again.

  Of course, in the middle of the radi
o station, with Tyler still lingering nearby, she didn’t dare.

  “I’d better start preparing the show,” Christine said after a few more moments.

  Paula nodded.

  When Christine took off her coat and messenger bag and sat behind the master console, Paula turned and left. That was it. I missed my chance. It looked as if asking Christine out was going to make it onto her New Year’s resolution list for the third year in a row.

  * * *

  While doing routine maintenance on the equipment racks in the two smaller production studios, Paula listened to the show.

  Christine took calls from people who complained about having to spend Valentine’s Day alone because they were single.

  After a short commercial break, Christine’s melodic voice came through the speakers again. “You’re listening to The Midnight Couch with Dr. Christine. Before the break, we were talking about being lonely on Valentine’s Day. Well, some people out there are alone, not because they haven’t found someone to love, but because they haven’t confessed their feelings to the person they love. If you’re secretly in love with someone, give us a call and let’s talk about it.”

  Would anyone even call? After all, once they talked about it on a radio show that was broadcasted all over Southern California, their secret love wouldn’t be so secret anymore.

  “First up is Kim from Santa Monica,” Christine said.

  Paula shrugged. Apparently, Kim didn’t mind spilling her guts on the radio. Paula couldn’t help admiring her courage.

  “Hi, Kim,” Christine said. Her voice somehow managed being as soothing as a lullaby and as exciting as a car chase at the same time. “You’re talking live to Dr. Christine. How can I help you?”

  “I’m not sure you can,” Kim said. She sounded young, as if she was barely out of her teens. “I got myself into a really—”

  The rest of the sentence was missing, probably because Christine had pressed the dump button, so the seven-second delay had bleeped out something like “shitty situation.”

  “Do you want to tell me more about it?” Christine asked.