When the Cameras Stop Rolling...
Page 9
Three excellent reasons. Why didn’t they seem like enough?
Because they were excuses.
The real reason had nothing to do with Eva and everything to do with him.
Entering into an emotional relationship meant the beginning of the end. And the thought of ending anything with Eva made him feel incredibly sad. At least this way, by keeping everything totally professional, they had a relationship, even if it was a working one.
But it wasn’t the connection he needed. Wanted—not needed. He didn’t need anyone.
On automatic pilot, Mark parked his truck and headed into the studio, carrying his suit bag. This time he’d kept his suit hanging safely in the dry cleaner’s bag in his truck, with intentions to change once he got into the studio. Unlike his first show there would be no more casual scrubs on television for him.
As he stared into the brightly lit mirror in his dressing room and tied his tie, he downed his third cup of coffee in so many hours.
Mark rubbed his hand over his face, emotional exhaustion taking as much of a toll as physical exhaustion.
After a night like last night, all the little things seemed so trivial. Part of dealing with trauma, he knew. So much life-and-death drama skewed normal perspectives.
He took a deep breath, trying to find his balance. Eva would help with that without even knowing it. He’d learned that about her, not only by watching her but by watching her crew. Things fell into place when she was around.
Always back to Eva. He was so obsessed.
Right now he was too tired to fight it. He’d have to settle for hiding it instead.
“Let’s do this,” he said to the mirror, calling on his last reserves, then felt foolish as he realized Eva was standing outside his open door, about to knock.
“Rough night?” She moved to stand just inside the doorway, revealing an electric-blue dress and heels so high they had to be stressing every bone in her feet but made her legs look incredibly sexy.
“It shows?” He clenched his eyes in a hard blink before focusing again on those shoes. It was better than inspecting her breasts. And that sunny smile only reminded him how tired he was.
His ex-wife had worn impractical heels. She’d always said they projected an image of power. But he’d rubbed her feet enough to know the torture shoes like those caused. All for illusion.
Eva gave him a sympathetic smile. “Full moon means full wards, right?”
“I’m afraid so.” He rubbed his eyes with the backs of his fists as if he could rub away all he’d seen last night. Instead, that brief lapse of sight only made the images more detailed in his mind.
“Want to tell me about it?”
“So you can use it on the show?” That came out sharper than Mark had intended. “Sorry. It’s just that...”
“It’s just that...?”
“Yeah. Rough night.” He rubbed his hand across his face, not helping the stress lines that the bright set lights would emphasize.
He should have stopped right there. He knew from experience that unburdening himself would only cause problems with those not initiated into the nastier side of New Orleans nightlife.
But when Eva propped herself against the doorjamb and waited, looking like she truly wanted to understand, he couldn’t find the strength to stop the pain that spilled out.
His voice cracked as he asked, more the universe than Eva, “How can kids be so stupid?”
“What happened?”
“Underage drinking and driving. An overloaded car full of kids. We couldn’t even keep them responsive long enough to notify their parents and give them a chance to say goodbye. Instead, those parents got early-morning knocks on their doors. We could only save one. And she’s on the ragged edge.”
Eva clenched and unclenched her hands while sympathetic tears welled. “My husband worked for the New Orleans Police Department. He used to have to make those visits. They tore him apart.”
Mark turned away, not able to face the tragedy in her eyes. “You’d think, after all these years, it would get easier.”
She walked towards him and put a hand on his shoulder. He looked at their reflections in the mirror, not really seeing either or them.
“After the teenagers there was a knifing and then a domestic fight.” He reached deep, trying to gather the last shreds of inner strength. “And just when I think I can’t do this any more, I get to witness a miracle.”
He handed her a tissue. “You don’t want to have to redo your makeup.”
“Thanks.” She dabbed under her eyes. “The miracle?”
“The baby was crowning as the taxi pulled into E.R. We didn’t even have time to wheel the mother up to Maternity. The cord was wrapped around his neck, but I worked it free before it damaged him.” Mark drew in a deep breath and took heart that Eva was still listening. “That little boy stopped crying, wrapped his fingers around my thumb, and looked up at me as if he could really focus on me. And I felt...”
“Felt what, Mark?”
“I felt... This sounds silly, I guess, but I felt hope. That maybe this little guy would do something someday that would make the world a better place. And I got the privilege of helping him start out.”
Eva forgot to dab and a dark-streaked tear tracked down her cheek.
Quick footsteps drew nearer to the dressing room and the producer stuck his head in the door.
“You’re both here. Good. Five minutes.” Then he paused, and yelled down the hallway, “We need Make-up in here.”
The studio’s makeup artist came rushing in from Eva’s dressing room. “Stop, Dr. Veracruz. Stop crying. You are ruining your eyes.”
The woman glared at Mark as if it was all his fault. And it was.
The makeup artist did something with a sponge and Eva looked as if she’d never shed a tear in her life.
“Now for you, Dr. O’Donnell. Look at those dark circles.” She pointed the sponge at Eva. “You were going to call me in if he needed a touch-up.”
“I got distracted.”
The woman came over to wrap a paper collar round Mark’s neck. Instinctively, Mark drew away.
Eva took a step to stand between his chair and the makeup artist. “Leave him just like he is.”
“But that face. Those eyes.”
“He’s earned the right to look like he does today.” She turned to her producer. “You want this to be real, right, Phil?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then we’ll tell our audience the truth. Mark has been up all night in the E.R. and hasn’t been home to rest yet. They need to know he’s the real thing.”
Mark met her gaze in the mirror as they both remembered how he had accused her of being a pretend doctor. And right now, as she stood there in her silk dress and heels, staring the reality of medicine in the face, she felt like a fake.
When she’d given up practicing medicine, should she have given up the privilege of calling herself a doctor, too?
“But...” Phil swiveled between her, Mark and the makeup artist.
“Give me some artistic license on this, Phil.” She gave him the smile that one of the New Orleans newspapers had said was full of more intelligence and honesty than any other on television. “Trust me.”
The alarm on his watch beeped. “I don’t have any other choice. We’re out of time.”
The intro music played and Mark followed Eva onto the live set. The audience was at full capacity today, he’d been told, but he could only see a blur of faces in the front rows. The lights blinded him to everything else.
Remembering his manners, he waited for Eva to sit, then took his place next to her.
“Good morning and welcome to Ask the Doc,” Eva began, her voice bringing the crowd to a level of cheering usually reserved for the football stands.
“As you know, on Fridays we have two doctors in the house. Dr. O’Donnell joins us straight from the E.R., where he has been working the night shift.” She graciously waved her hand towards Mark while the camera followed her direction.
Mark gave the camera a tight smile. “Thank you, Dr. Veracruz.”
Then he dropped the smile and looked straight at the blinking red light. “Last night was a rough one in the E.R. with accidents that should have never happened.” He swallowed. “Parents, teens think they are invincible, especially when they drink. They don’t understand their own mortality. Teach them, tell them, show them. Don’t let your kids drink and drive.”
Mark didn’t know why he’d said that. If Eva had done it, he might have accused her of exploiting a tragic situation. But sitting there, he realized if he could just say it with the right words in the right way, he could reach a lot of people and he just might save a life. He remembered the woman from the pizza place.
The power of television.
Now he watched Eva trying to turn his dramatic statement into an upbeat segue about their sponsor, a popular sports drink provider that had bought advertising time on the show.
Instead of turning the attitude with one of her hundred-watt smiles, she leaned forward, solemnity in every line of her face. “All you adults who are responsible for teens, whether you are a mom or dad or grandparent or aunt or uncle or older sibling—be the parent. Not the best friend. Not the provider of goods and services, but the stalwart guide for your teen. It’s a demanding job. But the future rewards are worth it.”
Now came the smile as she leaned back and relaxed. He could feel the audience take a deep, calming breath with her. She was that good.
“And for all of you who are raising your teens the right way, kudos to you. We know it’s the toughest job in the world.”
She started clapping and the audience, of course, followed suit. She could engender such intimacy, such trust, they would jump off a cliff for her.
Mark added his own applause.
He made a mental note for after the show to say thanks to her for adding in caretakers other than parents.
He also picked up, from her darting sideways glance, that she had no transition into their show—which was totally his fault with his ad lib opening.
He gave her a cocky grin to let her know he had it under control then used the subtle hand gesture he’d seen her use to get the cameraman’s attention.
“It takes a village. Here’s to the teachers, the neighbors and the coaches who are instrumental in your teen’s life. Adding a very personal thank you to my high-school football coach, Randy Carter, who will probably never realize what a huge positive influence he was in my life.
“Which brings us to today’s show—the influence of sports in our teens’ lives. Our thanks to our sponsors for giving us drinks to take home to our thirsty teens, and for the rest of our active households, too. We’ll be back right after this message from them.”
Thanks to Eva, the show was packed full of good information on nutrition and rest requirements for teen athletes. The graphics were easy to follow and the tips were easy to remember. Mark had had no idea that teen girls needed a minimum of two thousand two hundred calories a day.
He’d bet his All-State letter jacket patch that the cheerleader who Eva was worried about, Sharona, never ate that much in a day.
He’d had a call in to the high-school counselor to discuss having a conference with Sharona’s parents and her coach about her rapid weight loss over the summer but so far her parents hadn’t responded.
As interesting as it was, Eva’s nutrition information didn’t take over all his thoughts.
Why was he fighting his attraction to Eva so hard?
She’d been the one to kiss him after all. Why couldn’t he give in to physical need while keeping his emotions safe?
Other guys did it all the time, right?
But Mark never had. He’d always wanted more.
And look where that’s got you, O’Donnell.
Would he make a play for Eva or not? He’d never been this indecisive about a woman before. But this wasn’t just any woman. This was Eva.
Maybe he should walk away. Call it a chance not taken. Regret playing it safe for the rest of his life.
He felt as if he was balancing fifteen tons on each of his shoulders. Any tipping to one side or the other and he would end up crushed beneath the weight of his own worries.
He knew this would be one decision that would have serious repercussions on his life, whatever he decided.
He also knew never to make decisions when he was too tired to think straight.
Of course. His exhaustion explained his indecision. A few good, hard hours of sleep and he would know if he wanted to back down or step up.
Before he realized what was happening, Eva was delivering her closing tagline.
He found himself automatically smiling and nodding—his only responsibility in closing the show. If any of the previous cue cards had been for him, Eva had covered for him.
“Good show.” Eva followed her compliment with an energy-boosting smile. “The cheerleaders have asked me to come to the game tonight. Will I see you there?”
“Absolutely. It would be bad luck to miss the first game of the season. Want me to save you a seat?”
“Save two.”
Two? Mark wanted to ask. But it really wasn’t his business and it certainly wasn’t anything he was prepared to handle right now.
Instead, he concentrated on getting home and getting himself to bed to recover from his night shift.
He was usually good at sleeping any time, anywhere.
But today a beam of sunlight pierced the crack between his heavy curtains just as Eva’s kiss pierced his memory, making him toss and turn instead of rest.
He’d finally dropped off to sleep when Aaron stuck his head into his bedroom. “I’m riding with Sandy tonight, okay?”
Aaron had that tone in his voice, the one that sounded way too casual, the one that meant he was trying to get away with something.
Promising himself extra hours of sleep tomorrow, Mark hauled himself out of bed.
“Math homework?”
“Got it done.”
“Let me see it.” Mark made his way to the table where Aaron traditionally dumped his backpack. “English paper?”
“Got it done, too.”
“Really?” He picked up the crumpled mess that was Aaron’s math homework. He could see plenty of erasures, which meant Aaron’s tutor had helped the best she could with it.
“I spent time in the library today after tutoring.”
Mark glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was a good cover for being late, although highly unlikely. But he had no proof to the contrary so he refrained from calling Aaron on it.
“Who typed your paper for you?” Mark had seen his nephew’s painful typing skills. The kid was a wiz at texting on his phone’s keyboard, but anything requiring more than two fingers left the boy angry and frustrated.
“I did.”
“Let me see it.” Mark sent a not-quite-nice thought in his sister’s direction. She should be the one taking care of this. But she was too busy with her new husband. History repeating itself. Their mother had been the same way.
Thankfully, he had never needed help with his schoolwork and his coach had provided much-needed guidance when he’d stepped out of line. Mark pushed away the exhaustion that was fast playing havoc with his attitude and reminded himself he was just paying it forward.
Someday, hopefully, Aaron would do the same.
Mark scanned the paper. “Very impressive.”
“Thanks.”
Libido. It seems he’d woken up knowing his answer about Eva.
Mark looked up over the top of the paper. The boy was going to try to bluff his way through this. How dumb did he think his uncle was?
“So this word ‘obsequious.’ Tell me what it means.”
Aaron shrugged, but his casual gesture didn’t erase the defiance he showed in the thrust of his jaw. “I forgot. I knew it when I wrote the paper, though.”
“How about this word, ‘sequential’?”
“I looked them up in that dinosaur word book.”
Dinosaur word book? Mark had to think about that one. “What book would that be, Aaron?”
“You know, the one that sounds like a tyrannosaurus.”
“The thesaurus?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
Good old thesaurus rex. Mark bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Instead of seeing the belligerent seventeen-year-old in front of him, Mark was remembering the funny little three-year-old Aaron used to be who’d demanded ships for lunch instead of chips.
“I’m not even going to ask the question when I already know the answer. I hope this paper set your savings account back a hefty amount of money.” Mark tore it up as Aaron’s face turned bright red and his eyes flashed. But those angry eyes didn’t intimidate Mark like they did the boy’s mother.
“Consider this your last night of freedom and you’re only getting tonight because you finished your math homework. Tomorrow you write your paper. You’ll be grounded until the paper is done.”
Aaron balled his fists. This past summer he’d knocked a hole through his mother’s wall—that had been the last she’d been able to take of his behavior.
Mark widened his stance the same way he faced down gang members and thugs in the E.R. He worked hard to keep his expression firm while his stomach sank. He’d never thought he would have to confront his own nephew this way.
“Don’t do it, Aaron.”