When the Cameras Stop Rolling...

by Connie Cox

  The little cheerleader called out, “Acne.”

  Next to her, Aaron gave her a deep scowl, probably due to his own blemished skin. Mark wanted to smooth over the symptom by pointing out that some acne in teens was common and the propensity was generally inherited. But Aaron would become embarrassed if he thought Mark was trying to single him out to defend him.

  The boy was so sensitive about everything concerning his body. At Aaron’s age, Mark remembered being self-absorbed, but not so emotional. But, then, memories did tend to replay in a kinder, gentler way as the years went by.

  Eva gave the girl an encouraging nod. “Did you know there are also side effects that are specific to girls and to boys?”

  Mark gave Eva kudos. Her statement piqued the interest of all the teens, even his drifting nephew.

  At Eva’s nod, Mark supplied the answers for the boys.

  “Guys, anabolic steroids can cause infertility and a higher risk of prostate cancer.” While these things should alarm the teens, Mark knew they wouldn’t. Kids this age didn’t worry much about the future.

  “But that’s not all.” He set them up for the effects that would hit their vanity. “When teen boys use steroids, they can expect to see shrinking of testicles, baldness and the development of breasts. These changes are not reversible even when steroid abuse is stopped.”

  Every male in the gym, including the cameramen, twitched as they thought about the ramifications of steroid abuse. Even Aaron came out of his fog and focused on Mark’s words.

  “And, girls, you’ve got your own set of problems,” Eva added on cue. “You can expect facial hair, male-pattern baldness, changes to or a complete stop of your menstrual cycle and a permanently deeper voice.”

  Noting they were out of time, Eva did the wrap-up on the effects of steroid abuse. “Steroids can give you a certain sense of well-being, but they can send you on a mood-swing binge just as easily. A steroid user can experience irrational and uncontrollable anger with little or no provocation. These ’roid rages can end up in physical confrontations that are dangerous for anyone around the steroid user as he or she spins out of control. Withdrawal from steroids can be both physical and mental, including a deep depression that can require hospitalization.”

  Eva looked into the camera. “If you use steroids, or you suspect a friend is using steroids, ask for help to quit. The number to call is on your screen and will be on Ask the Doc’s website as well.”

  The field producer called out, “That’s a wrap.”

  Mark touched Eva on the arm to get her attention, and got a shock to his system as well. How could a simple touch set up such shock waves?

  Eva gave him her attention. “You did well today. Better than I expected.”

  Better than expected? What was that supposed to mean? What had she expected from him? Mark glanced down at his watch he’d started to wear because of her, suddenly realizing how late the interview had run. “I’ve got to get to work.”

  “Okay. See you tomorrow on set.”

  As teens surrounded Eva to ask more questions, Mark walked toward his truck, reluctance in each step. That he wanted to stay with her surprised him.

  And worried him.

  * * *

  A few days later, he was still telling himself that Eva was not for him. He knew that with his head. So why did his mind keep drifting to memories of her in that red dress, that cleavage daring him to look? Or at the pizza place, with those lips begging to be kissed?

  Strictly business, O’Donnell, he said to himself as he put his truck into park.

  He had to admit that when it came to her business, Eva knew what she was doing. The stories were well researched and excellently laid out by the time it was his turn to be camera-ready. Eva focused the story, supervised the graphics and took care of the voice-over copy.

  He just showed up where assigned, smiled at the little red light on the camera and followed her lead.

  He’d overslept. But, then, his shift had run hours long. Monday nights were supposed to be easy, but last night had been anything but. Apparently, rival gangs had been involved in some kind of confrontation. Dispatch had followed police orders and shipped the injured to different hospitals.

  The E.R. had been tense, with police standing guard everywhere and the threat of a rival member bursting in at any moment to finish what he had started.

  It was one of the risks Mark took, working in one of the inner city clinics. Most days he could tell you the reward was in the diversity of cases he saw. But after last night’s edginess he couldn’t honestly say the risks were worth it.

  He’d taken time to run home, take a shower and change clothes so he was running late. He hoped the crew understood.

  Mark checked in with the crew of Ask the Doc who were setting up their cameras on the football field. But today wasn’t about the football players. It was all about the cheerleaders.

  Since Eva called the shots, she had decided to give equal time to girls’ sports and boys’ sports. Mark had to admit that he didn’t know much about cheerleading. He hadn’t even dated a cheerleader when he’d been playing football.

  His steady girlfriend had been a cute little library nerd. Everyone had said they didn’t fit together, but they had. She had been his calm in the storm of teenage hormones and the ever-changing hurricane winds of his home life.

  Then she had moved away. Without her anchoring personality, he’d been hell on wheels during his senior year. His father had even gotten involved, promising and threatening. All empty promises and threats, but at least he’d paid Mark a fraction of the attention Mark had craved from him.

  Mark waved at Aaron, who was running laps, but the boy didn’t wave back. Was he being ignored as too old and uncool to acknowledge or had Aaron really not seen him? Either way was okay, as long as Aaron knew Mark would be there whenever the boy needed him.

  So many people, from his peers to adults, had been there for him as he’d been growing up. How did kids make it without being surrounded by such strong influences?

  Who had influenced Eva? Who had been her support system? Who had she leaned on?

  The memory of the way her body had felt against his when he’d kissed her made him wish she’d lean on him again—at least physically.

  But she wanted to keep things strictly business. Fine. He would keep it strictly business. No sense in encouraging a closeness he didn’t even want with her. He might not ever be ready for that kind of closeness again. Nothing wrong with being single the rest of his life. Right?

  * * *

  Eva watched the cheerleaders do their round-offs and back handsprings across the mat in the gym as they psyched themselves for setting up their pyramid.

  “Go, Gators!” echoed to the rafters as they clapped and shouted.

  Their mascot, a freshman girl sweating in her alligator costume, yelled out, “Hey, Doc! My mom says to tell you she loves your show.”

  “Always nice to hear.”

  And if their ratings didn’t improve, she’d soon stop hearing it. The producers had really pinned a lot of hope on Mark’s macho magnetism getting the middle-aged female crowd to tune in.

  Eva had already decided she would be dusting off her résumé. Keeping it updated was the smart thing to do.

  She turned her attention back to the cheerleaders. She recognized the slight cheerleader from the last recording. The girl seemed to be having trouble gaining any height in jumps.

  Without meaning to, Eva realized she was analyzing the girl’s health.

  The girl was at least ten, maybe even fifteen pounds underweight. But that happened sometimes in puberty. Some girls grew taller faster than they could put on weight.

  The girl’s hair was stringy and lank. Not an indicator of anything by itself. Eva pushed her own overgrown mop out of her face. Not everyone
was born with thick hair.

  When she wasn’t practicing, the girl continually bounced and rubbed her arms as if she were cold.

  It was September in New Orleans. No one in this town had been cold in months.

  Anorexia?

  Mark walked up behind her. Funny how she knew it was him without even turning around. Funny how she got shivers when he stood this close to her. Funny how she liked it.

  She felt edgy, waiting, anticipating. Foolish.

  Crushes were for teenagers.

  But that kiss at the pizza parlor had been all grown up.

  She turned to him. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” His eyes looked heavy, like he’d just woken up. His hair was damp. He smelled of soap and man.

  “Do you know that girl?” Eva looked in the direction of the cheerleader who was preparing to be thrown to the top of the pyramid.

  Mark studied the girl. “No, I don’t. I’ve seen her around Aaron but he hasn’t introduced me to her yet.”

  The head cheerleader called off the count and yelled, “Up.”

  Precariously, the girl found her footing on the hands of the lower tier of the human tower. She balanced then raised her hands high. “Does she look unhealthy to you? Too thin maybe?”

  Mark gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe.”

  Eva winced at the height of the two-high pyramid. Such risks for their sport. But that’s what made it a sport, she guessed. The thrill of achievement.

  She wasn’t so far past those years that she didn’t remember it.

  As head cheerleader, she had organized the girls to beg their sponsor to build to two and a half high, but the stalwart woman had wisely refused.

  She also remembered that they had all thought they were invincible back then. Bad things happened to other people, never them.

  The coach called out, “Nice, Sharona. Next time, we’ll try for the handstand, okay?”

  Handstand? Eva didn’t want to be around to watch that one. Observing this practice session was nerve-racking enough.

  “So, were you ever a cheerleader?”

  “Yes, all through junior high and my freshman year in high school, before I fell in love with basketball. But I was always in the base holding up everyone else.”

  “Solid. Dependable. Strong. It says a lot about you.”

  “Heavy and tall is what it says about me.” She nodded towards the girl, who was getting ready for her dismount. Two of the male cheerleaders were standing by as spotters ready to catch her if she fell. “I could never be the flyer, even if I were smaller and lighter.”

  “Afraid of heights?”

  “Trust issues.” Eva surprised herself by admitting to that.

  “Still have those issues?”

  She crossed her arms, feeling exposed, pulling back. “That was then. This is now.”

  “You didn’t answer the question, Doctor.”

  “Let’s just say I would be very uncomfortable standing on the shoulders of other people.”

  She had stood on Chuck’s shoulders. Even when she’d wanted off, he had kept her up there, like a statue on a pedestal. If only he had backed off and let her do her job, he would still be alive today.

  She’d thought she was over the anger. Anger was step two of the five steps of grief. Why did she keep coming back to it? Why couldn’t she let it go?

  “I’ve got really broad shoulders.” The smile he sent her suggested a relationship but what kind? Friendship? Lovers? Co-workers who happened to have good synchronicity?

  She glanced down at her bare toes—she’d left her heels at the edge of the gym floor. “I’ve got really big feet. I’ve always been able to stand on them on my own.” Except when Chuck died.

  But she hadn’t felt shaky in some time now. Looking back, she still felt weak for falling apart after the shooting, no matter how often Susan insisted she was normal. A normal reaction to an abnormal situation.

  Mark’s eyes lost the glint that asked for more than she could give. He glanced at his new watch. “The camera crew sent me to get you. They probably think we’ve both gotten lost now.”

  “Okay.” Eva walked towards her shoes, missing the inches that put her on a more equal footing with Mark

  Before she left the gym, she gave one last look at the girl, Sharona. What should she do? Approach the girl’s coach? Observe for a while longer? Let it go?

  She never used to be so indecisive. Another sign of the weakness she’d developed with the loss of Chuck.

  Mark must have sensed her hesitancy. “I’ll ask her coach if there has been any noticeable weight loss. And I’ll pay better attention when she’s hanging around Aaron and their friends.”

  “Thank you.” Like a weight, the responsibility she felt toward Sharona lightened. If her indecision meant she failed to do her duty, Mark would take care of the girl. He would be her spotter. Catch her when she fell.

  And she would let him. For the sake of the girl.

  * * *

  Mark narrowed his eyes as he put the pieces together. Trust issues. The way she often twisted a non-existent ring on her finger, like she had as she’d worried over Sharona’s welfare. The whispers he’d overheard from a crew member about Eva’s husband.

  He’d assumed she was divorced. They’d kissed.

  She wasn’t that type, he was sure of it. She wouldn’t betray her husband that way, right? But, then, he’d thought his ex hadn’t been that way either.

  His confidence in his ability to judge women had been shot out from under him during the long months of discovery preceding his divorce.

  As he followed Eva off the court, he reached out for her then let his hand fall. What if she was—?

  “Eva, your official bio says single. That’s not hype, is it? Are you married?”

  She stopped so fast, he ran into the back of her.

  When he put his hands on her waist to steady her, she pulled back and his heart sank.

  He’d kissed her and had fantasies of doing more. Much more.

  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He would never do that to another guy. Thanks to his ex, he knew how it felt to be that other guy.

  Her face had drained of all color and her white teeth had bitten into her blood-red-painted bottom lip.

  “Married?” She twirled the non-existent ring on her finger once again. “No, I—”

  “No explanations, please. Yes or no will do.”

  “I kissed you. How could you think that?”

  “That sounds like a stall tactic to me.” His stomach was roiling as he guessed why she must be stalling. What excuse would she give him? “Still waiting. Yes or no?”

  “No.” Her answer came on a breath of expelled air, as if she’d used all she had to push the word out of herself. She hung her head. “Not any more.”

  Sympathy swamped him. “Divorce is tough.”

  She thought about shrugging in agreement, letting the remark pass as she usually did. Instead she said the first response that popped into her head. “So is death.

  “I’m...” her mouth worked as if she were trying to pronounce a complicated foreign word “...widowed.”

  Mark’s blue-green eyes darkened as he looked away. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  The pain in her voice struck deep into his gut.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated. The words weren’t enough. They didn’t cover his apology for misjudging her for something she hadn’t done, or his sympathy for the loss of her husband or his regret that he’d caused her pain by demanding an answer from her. But it’s all he had.

  “It’s all right.” With sad eyes, she gave him a forgiving smile then covered his hand with hers, trying to give him comfort when he should be comforting her. “I’ve just never said
that out loud before.”

  “How long have you been a widow?” The compassion in his voice was so raw, so sincere and so understanding that she wondered about his own losses.

  “Two years. I’m over the worst of it, I think, but sometimes it catches me off guard.” She shifted, feeling her world steady under her. “He wouldn’t want me to grieve forever.”

  “Wise man.”

  “No. Not wise at all. But very brave.” Some time during the last two years Eva’s pain and anger had turned to bitter-sweet nostalgia. It’s what Chuck would have wanted.

  “I’m sure he was a great guy.”

  “He was.” She reached up, her palm cool on his cheek. “I think he would have liked you.”

  She dropped her hand and stood firmly on those two feet she was so proud of. “But that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I like you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHAT MATTERS IS that I like you.

  Mark had been thinking about those words ever since Eva had uttered them before walking away from him.

  Like. As in co-worker? Friend? Potential lover?

  What did he mean to Eva? And what did she mean to him?

  Like was too simple a word to describe the reactions she induced in him.

  She was the widow of a brave man. How could he compete with the ghost of a hero?

  Her kind of baggage wasn’t what he needed in his life right now.

  Just what do you need? his inner voice asked.

  Unsuccessfully, he tried to push away the name Eva that kept popping up in his head.

  Her eyes had gone serious when she’d talked of her late husband. Serious and something else. Something beyond sadness. Something much more nebulous. Wistfulness?

  Ghosts made for an awkward ménage à trois.

  But living, breathing Eva haunted him.

  * * *

  After a full week of working together, Mark was in total sync with Eva. Everyone on set agreed that the way they finished each other’s sentences was uncanny.

  Very personally and privately Mark thought the way her touch could send energy through him was uncanny.

  The harder he tried to keep a professional distance, the closer Eva inched her way into his head.