Nowhere did Karli see any kind of connections. The great compression of people into towering proximity did nothing to foster relationships among them. Each was isolated and alone.
Her iPhone buzzed. She reached for it and saw a text from her father: Congrats again. You’ve made a fantastic move.
At least we’re all alone together, Karli thought.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mid-America Emmy Awards Ceremony
Hilton Hotel and Convention Center
Branson, Missouri
Saturday evening, June 28
Sophia Refai melted at the knees to take her seat, lushly elegant in a sexy, blingy evening gown. She was obviously made up for an evening out rather than for broadcast, her hair up and formal and her makeup darker and more seductive than would ever be appropriate for a newscast.
Jake Gibson slid her chair in under her, then bent to say something into her ear. She turned to him with a smile and a brief rejoinder, followed by a bright laugh. Jake looked across the table to where Jerry Schultz was adding a comment of his own, one that set the entire table laughing as Jake took his chair next to Sophia, who leaned over to him and placed her beautifully manicured hand flat against his chest and focused the bright energy of her smile on him and then swung it to take in the rest of the table, where most of the Three NewsFirst leadership sat.
Karli Lewis stood awkwardly at one of the ballroom’s side entrances, her fingers fidgeting with the soft cord atop her clutch. She shook the charm bracelet on her wrist and looked into the chandeliered ballroom from a side-on view of the raised stage and a not very good view of the two-story-high video screens displaying images from the seven or so television cameras pointing all around the room. Jake in a tuxedo? she thought to herself. He looks amazing!
She locked her eyes on him where he sat on the far side of the room, past the other end of the stage, looking effortlessly comfortable in an obviously not off-the-rack tux. She felt a surge of energy—a mixture of desire, possessiveness, and a hint of jealousy. Has Sophia already managed to get her hooks into him? she wondered. That would be so like her—hooking up with some dude when she knows full well that she’s moving on to another market.
She found her fingers tangled anew in the satin cord. Oh, shit, she thought. I guess that’s what I did—or what it looked like anyway.
Karli had flown in from Chicago that morning, with just a small bag and no reservation. By a stroke of luck, the Hilton had a last-minute cancellation and was able to fit her in during one of the busiest conventions of the year. The mid-America Emmys drew countless broadcasters from the region, many of whom arrived with the attitude that it was perhaps their only chance of the year to drink alcohol and flirt with members of the opposite sex. She herself had been propositioned—in varying degrees of frankness—by at least a dozen tipsy sales managers or news directors who had wandered out of the cavernous ballroom searching for bathrooms or more drinks or someone to talk to.
Karli had not arranged to secure actual credentials to attend the awards banquet, though she had put substantial work into looking the glamorous part. Her own long, black Valentino silk dress created the perfect background for her dark blue eyes to sparkle out of their unusually dusky makeup. She had known for some time that the station would be receiving an Emmy award for the work she and Jake had done, and she figured nobody would care about credentials once the award was announced.
And the ceremony was proceeding, with supposedly important but otherwise largely unknown-to-others presenters alternating at two podiums positioned at roughly a third of the way in from either side of the stage. They introduced clips from entries in various categories, and the giant screens played those clips and cutaway shots of audience members, often those who had been nominated.
Karli watched as an announcer stepped up to the nearer podium and, shaking her head, said, “This year a single entry has found its way into three separate categories—something that is so unusual, the entire mid-America board had to vote in favor of permitting it. So, with apologies for taking things slightly out of order, and without the suspense of announcing competing entries, I’m privileged to present this year’s winner in each of the following categories: Specialty Assignment Report; Photographer - News; and Writer - News.”
As she finished that sentence, the titles of the categories dissolved to one of Jake’s shots of Iowa National Guardsmen filling water containers for Des Moines residents, with Karli’s voice describing the things people needed water most urgently for. “The winner in each of these categories is from the Three NewsFirst newsroom in Des Moines, Iowa. For their coverage of the flooding in Des Moines, the winners are reporter Karli Lewis and photographer Jake Gibson!” Karli’s heart took off running. She had known they were going to win, but she hadn’t known they would win in three categories.
Cheers and applause rose from the room. Jake and Jerry rose from their seats, walked to the far side of the stage, and climbed the steps. Once on the stage, Jerry gestured for the photographer to precede him to the podium. As they crossed behind the first podium, the applause died down and the audio from the winning story again featured Karli’s voice, setting up a sound bite from a central Des Moines resident who was worried about how the city could stay healthy without water. Then the audio went quiet as Jake leaned toward the microphone.
“Terrible events put people under the kind of stress that requires them to do the best or the worst things they’re capable of,” he said solemnly. “The shutdown of the water system in Des Moines was unusual and terrible. The people of Des Moines showed their greatness and their resilience throughout that crunch.” He paused and glanced up at the exceptional, still-rolling footage he had captured for the story. “The pressure of the catastrophe and the inspiration of a great collaborator required me to record some of the best pictures and audio of my career.” The audience, which had been treated to the drive-in-movie-sized version of that footage as he spoke, burst into spontaneous and unusual applause. “Of course I’d like to thank my news director, Jerry Schultz,” here he swung his arm back toward Jerry, who raised his hand to an absence of applause, “and Karli Lewis, on whose behalf I am accepting this award tonight. She cannot be here, as she has taken a position...”
Karli laid her hand on Jake’s shoulder, and his voice trailed off as he turned and saw her standing next to him. The surprise on his face was so apparent that the audience bubbled with laughter. While Jake had been talking, she had simply climbed up the stairs right in front of her and had walked to where he stood at the near side of the stage.
Under cover of the audience’s laughter, she whispered to Jake, “You look amazing in that tuxedo,” quirked a single eyebrow at him and then looked pointedly at the microphone. Jake snapped his mouth shut into his reddening face and stepped quickly away from the podium, which gave the laughter a bit more energy.
Just as the audience sounds began to taper, Karli lowered the microphone and spoke into it. “Jake is right, I have indeed taken a new position.” Here she looked back to acknowledge Jake, who stood, completely flummoxed, by a broadly smiling Jerry. “But I am thrilled to be here tonight to thank you all for this amazing honor.” She looked at the announcer, who had stood by mutely, during the speeches. The announcer stepped forward and handed Karli the little gold statue of a lightning-winged woman holding an orb aloft. Raising the statue, Karli turned back to the microphone and said, “Thank you, on behalf of Jake Gibson and the entire Three NewsFirst team.”
Karli turned toward Jake and held her arm out expectantly. Collecting himself, Jake extended his elbow to escort her off stage. Karli raised her face toward him, and he leaned in to listen over the renewed applause. “You said you wanted me to find my own way. Well, I think I’m starting to.” She saw the wonder in his face and a smile leapt from her heart and onto her own face. “But first we have to get off this stage without falling down the stairs,” she said. “So look where you’re going.”
Jake laughed for pure joy
and paid careful attention to taking one step at a time.
On the way back to the Three NewsFirst table, Jake signaled to one of the staff for an extra chair. While they waited, he helped Karli into the new chair next to Jerry, and resumed his former seat next to Sophia.
“What a surprise to see you here!” Sophia said in ingratiating tones. “That was quite an entrance you made there!”
“I wasn’t able to confirm arrangements in time to be here at the table with you,” Karli replied. “The Chicago bosses expect about 27 hours of work per day, so getting away was a pretty big deal.”
Jerry’s face was suddenly covered with a huge, smirking grin. “You’re not telling me you’re afraid of a little hard work, are you? Because that would be awkward.”
“Not at all,” Karli said, turning her smile’s high beams on. “You know I love the work. Especially when I have a great collaborator like Jake.” Saying this, she looked at Jake out of the corner of her eye as he scooted his newfound chair into the space between Jerry and Station Manager Larry Norwich. “Wouldn’t you say that a good collaborator is important, Mr. Gibson?” She picked the little statue back up and waved it at him, teasing.
“Of course I would. We made those stories together. Heck, I already miss working with you.”
Unable to bear being on the outside of the conversation, Sophia angled for Jake’s attention. “Oh, but haven’t we been doing some really inspirational stories since Karli left? That one on the homeless people was really special.
I’m hoping that will win us an Emmy next year.”
The introverted Norwich cut in ahead of Jake, squeaking out one of his rare sentences. “Won’t you be leaving us for Indianapolis next week?”
“Sure,” Sophia replied, surprised at the uncharacteristic contribution. “But Karli here came all the way from Chicago for tonight’s ceremony. If Jake and I are going to win the Emmy next year, I’m sure I’ll be able to come back, too.”
Jerry jumped in, apparently sensing Norwich’s reluctance to continue in a conversation. “If you win an Emmy, Sophia, rest assured you’ll be welcome to come sit with us here at the awards ceremony.” He gave her his best sincere-boss face, but Karli was sure he had calculated the odds of Sophia’s reporting efforts winning an Emmy to be mostly nonexistent.
“So,” Jake said to Karli, “how’s life in the big city?”
“It has been an amazing experience, Jake. Even with the insane hours and stuff, I’m still glad I took the job.”
“The honeymoon isn’t over yet, I take it?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Karli replied. “Let’s just say I’ve learned a lot from working there.” She paused, then raised a hand in sudden recollection. “And you should’ve seen my dad when he came to the newsroom and then saw me anchor a Saturday night newscast with one of my stories in the second segment—all on the television, and all over Chicagoland!” She lowered her voice with that last phrase in an apparent imitation of her father. “Mom says the entire bar at the Hotel Intercontinental learned that he was my father that night. Embarrassing, yes, but it was really nice to see him pleased with something about my career.”
“What about tonight’s award?” Jerry asked. “Every parent of an Emmy winner should cheer until they’re hoarse!”
“He’s not nearly as excited about the award as he was to be in Chicago and see me on a major-market newscast,” Karli replied, a little hesitantly. “He’s kind of a quantity-over-quality guy when it comes to journalism.”
“That’s not the kind of journalist you are, though,” Jerry prompted.
“I’m much more proud of this award than I am about the story I did about Mayor Emanuel’s plan to create 100 miles of separated bike lanes in Chicago,” Karli said. “Not that the Mayor’s plan isn’t important—even visionary.
“The Mayor is right that encouraging healthy, green transportation is important. But anyone could’ve reported that story. It didn’t require much in the way of background work, it was boringly budgetary and technical, and there wasn’t time to delve into the whole argument about the tensions between cyclists and motorists. You know—bikes always break the law versus every car-bike encounter has a guaranteed loser, and it isn’t the car.”
Karli saw Jake’s face go suddenly pale. She immediately understood the reason and spoke to him in her most calming tones. “Darrin Anderson’s story is the one that mattered, Jake,” she said. “Losing that boy got the entire community up in arms. A reactionary city engineer got fired and major changes came fast. There was an entire town’s support for creating safe routes for kids and adults on bicycles.
That’s different from an impersonal, bureaucratic policy-wonk’s daydream. Nobody probably even remembers the story I did in Chicago. Everyone in the Des Moines metro remembers the story you and I did. And they remember Darrin, too.”
Norwich appeared to sense some of the tension at the table. In a misguided effort to calm things, he resorted to the executive’s go-to device: jargon. “Inspirational. That’s what that story was,” he squeaked in his best Station Manager tones. “It had all the things that Bielfeldt said about inspiration. Memorable. And, um, emotional. Plus the rest.”
Although everyone at the table saw the absurdity of the remark, Sophia had been mid-sip on her cocktail just as it was spoken. Between suppressing her laughter and trying to swallow her drink, she nearly choked. After sputtering into her napkin for a bit, she coughed, cleared her throat, and looked up with watering eyes. “Sorry. That went down the wrong pipe.”
The moment of panic had passed, though. Even Jake’s face lit up with laughter as he patted Sophia’s back and handed her a glass of water. She thanked him and darted a glance at Karli as she again placed a proprietary hand on his arm.
Karli turned so quickly to Jerry that it wasn’t clear if she’d caught the needling look. “What new stuff do you have in store for the newsroom, Jerry?”
“We’ve been struggling to find a replacement for Sophia,” he began, giving Karli a look that said he had seen Sophia’s tactless gesture. “And we’re trying to develop some more large-scale projects. Stuff along the lines of the renewable energy series you and Jake were brainstorming before you left.”
“Do you have the reporting staff you need to do that kind of work? I mean, you know I totally agree that exploring big stories takes time, both in the field work and on the air. But you need people who are willing to invest their own time as well as the station’s into stories with that kind of scope, right?”
“You convinced us to commit to some documentary-scale work before you left,” Jerry replied. “To be honest, finding someone to shoulder that load has been a struggle, too.”
“You can’t give up that commitment just because Karli’s gone,” Jake said with genuine worry in his voice. “That work isn’t just important for us to do, it’s important for the viewers. Those are the kinds of stories that can truly inform the electorate and generate some intelligent debate and opinions. It’s not just the sound-bite-du-jour stuff that so often stands in for actual reporting on issues. Jerry, you just can’t give up on this idea.”
Jerry held up placating hands. “Don’t worry Jake, we’re still committed to the concept. Resources are tight, but we’ve had help from the entire station,” here he gave Norwich an appreciative nod, “and everyone’s behind the idea.”
Karli’s eyes twinkled at this exchange. She smiled up at Jerry and batted her eyelashes while asking, “How are you going to be able to find someone to fill Sophia’s huge shoes?” she asked, then glanced down at her own petite feet by way of indicating that Sophia’s shoes were huge because of her feet, not because of her professional ability. “And how are you going to be able to find a reporter willing to do the hard work to support huge half-hour and full-hour reports?”
Jerry just threw his head back and laughed. Norwich even peeped a high-pitched giggle. Jake and Sophia looked around the table in confusion. Jake caught on first, glaring at Karli in mock fur
y. “How could you sit on news like that?” he demanded.
Sophia caught on just as he spoke. “You? You think you’re going to replace me at the anchor desk?”
“The feedback from the weekend shows I anchored in Chicago”—she emphasized in Chicago—“was quite good.”
Sophia’s mouth opened and then snapped suddenly shut as she fumed in silence.
“When did this all happen?” Jake asked, his mock fury taking a slightly darker turn towards real anger.
“We didn’t reach an agreement until yesterday afternoon,” Jerry said, again in placating tones. Then, indicating toward Karli with a tip of his head and a smirk, “She drives a really hard bargain.”
“Look, I have to draw the line somewhere, and it just so happens that milking goats is a pretty obvious stopping point.”
“Sure, and so are parades and charity runs and all the rest.”
“You told me you wanted to hire an actual reporter to both cover the news and anchor the weekend shows,” Karli shot back with a grin. “All those public appearances make doing the actual job pretty impossible.”
“So, you’re really coming home?” Jake asked, obviously worried that Jerry and Karli were playing an elaborate joke.
“Yes, Jake,” Karli said, making earnest eye contact. “I am coming home. Because I think I figured out something about what home means, and why I need to come home.”
“Really?” he swallowed, his tone this time asking about all the things she’d said and hinted at.
“Yes, Jake,” she answered. “Really and truly.”
Jake rose from his seat, placed his napkin by the dinner plate, and walked around the table to where Karli sat. “In that case, Ms. Karli Lewis, I request the honor of this dance,” he said, holding his hand out to her.
Love. Local. Latebreaking.: Book 1 in the newsroom romance series Page 29