by Brenda Bone
DIAMONDS AND DREAMS
By
Brenda Bone
Copyright © 2012, Brenda Bone
All Rights Reserved.
First Printing, Kindle, 2012.
CHAPTER ONE
Why is that man staring at me as if he’s sizing up an enemy?
Lindsay Blair smoothed a long strand of pearl blonde hair away from her oval face. Sitting at her desk in the corner of the first floor at Columbus, Ohio’s WBKB radio station, she peeled the plastic wrap from a ham sandwich that she drew out of a brown lunch bag. Then she raised the food to take a bite. After finishing half of the sandwich and swallowing a sip of ice-cold Coca-Cola, she sensed that the stranger still observed her from where he sat on a hard-back chair across the room. A bit uncomfortable, she bravely met his brilliant blue gaze directly and felt as if his eyes challenged her, although she couldn’t imagine why. Coffee-colored hair framed his sun-tanned face that looked like it had been chiseled by a master sculptor. He stood an inch or two over six feet, and attired in a perfectly tailored gray suit that accented his slim physique, he gave the impression of a career-minded executive.
Lindsay’s blue-gray eyes flashed with anger as he continued to stare boldly, mockingly, as if he deliberately tried to make her feel uneasy. But why?
Danielle Fleming, a meteorologist, appeared suddenly and sat down in the chair across from Lindsay. “He’s good-looking, isn’t he, Lin?”
“Huh?” She quickly turned her attention from the man and hoped that Danielle hadn’t noticed the way she stared back at him. Seeing the twinkle of mirth leap in her friend’s sea-green eyes, Lindsay suspected that she did.
“I saw you and Brant Diamond, the new radio host, looking moon-eyed at each other a few minutes ago.”
Lindsay laughed at the vivacious redhead’s inaccurate observation. “You’ve got it all wrong. I caught him gaping at me, and I merely returned the rude stare so he’d know how it felt.”
“Brant is usually very mannerly. He’s an interesting guy.”
“How do you know so much about the man already when this is only his first day here at the station?”
“We worked together for a brief period at a jazz-oriented radio station in New Orleans,” recalled Danielle. “Brant decided to return to Natchez, his hometown, a few weeks prior to when I moved to Columbus and became the chief meteorologist here. Later I heard he landed a job at a Los Angeles station.”
If he worked on the West Coast, why would he want to leave there and come here? Columbus isn’t one of the most desirable cities for a radio host that was accustomed to being at the top of his career field. He must be taking a substantial pay cut by accepting a job at WBKB.”
“I heard rumors that Brant got fired from WKTZ in Los Angeles. He gave away more contest prizes than he was permitted to do and he granted too many extreme requests from listeners. One time he played Christmas carols on the Fourth of July, or when he played a hit love song in fast speed, it sounded ridiculous, but he always gave the listeners what they wanted. You know how quickly word gets around in our business. After those escapades, probably none of the larger stations want to take a chance on Brant, who’s too unpredictable for his own good. He refuses to kow-tow to censorship demands from the media or his bosses.”
“Then why did Desi hire him?”
Danielle made a funny face. “Are you kidding? Desi will do almost anything to raise this station’s ratings, even if it means resorting to scandal. Desi and Brant are kindred spirits, each used to doing their own thing, calling their own shots in life and each refuses to be just another brick on the wall when they prefer being creative and unique.”
“Great,” Lindsay muttered sarcastically. “Brant is looking this way again. Don’t let him guess we’re talking about him.”
“Too late. He’s coming over.” Danielle rose to leave. “I said ‘hello’ to Brant earlier. Because Desi, my least favorite boss since he’s so arrogant, is with him now, I’ll leave. See you later.”
Lindsay absently tapped a pencil against the edge of her desk. She sensed tension crackling through the air as the men approached her.
“I’d like to see you in my office, Lindsay,” Desi Greenwood, the station manager, requested. His dark, thinning hair and hazel eyes that gleamed behind black-framed glasses often deceived people into believing that he was overly conservative, but he was the one that decided to change the country and western format of WBKB to a station that played light rock music. “I’d like to speak privately with you and also introduce you to Brant Diamond.”
Wondering what kind of business Desi wanted to discuss and why he seemed determined for her to become acquainted with Brant, Lindsay followed him across the plant-filled room. Was it her imagination or did she really feel Brant’s gaze burning through her back? Her cheeks flushed pink like the loose-fitting dress she wore on her slender five foot five frame. Brant trailed so closely behind her that she caught a whiff of his bracing men’s cologne just before he held open the door to the manager’s office for her. Her knees suddenly weak, she was glad to sit down in one of the two brown leather chairs in front of Desi’s cluttered desk.
“This is Lindsay Blair, one of our most popular deejays,” Desi told Brant.
“Pleased to meet you, honey.” Brant leaned back in the chair beside her.
His words made her muscles tense. For some odd reason, she automatically became suspicious of men that addressed women they didn’t know as “honey” or other familiar endearments.
Before she could acknowledge the introduction, Desi informed her, “I’ve decided that you and Brant will form our new weekend team. This concept works well for our two major competitors in Columbus. I think we may attract a large portion of listeners from both stations.”
“But I don’t want to work with him!” She went on to explain to Brant, “It’s not that I doubt your qualifications for the job. I’m sure you’re very good at what you do or Desi wouldn’t have hired you.”
A slight grin on his face, Brant remained silent, but Desi demanded brusquely, “What is it that you object to, Lindsay?”
She jutted her chin proudly. “I worked hard to handle this job by myself. Remember how low our ratings were in my time slot before I started? Besides, I do my best work when I’m alone, not working as a team.”
Desi leaned forward and looked sternly at them. “Well, you’d both better adjust well to one another and fast! Otherwise, only one of you might be left standing.”
His words stung as much as if he had slapped her. Glancing at Brant, she saw the slight smirk that curled the edges of his lips. Apparently, he was amused by what presented an awkward situation for her.
“Don’t worry, Lindsay,” Brant tried to reassure her. “We’ll get along great and I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
Him help me? She thought she detected Brant’s strategy. If he presented himself as being congenial and she appeared disagreeable, wouldn’t Desi find him easier to work with if a contest between them became necessary?
Determined to keep her employment at WBKB where she’d been well satisfied with her position, Lindsay made a mental note to beat Brant at his own game. She would have to keep on guard that Brant didn’t goad her into losing her temper so she’d behave in an unprofessional manner.
Desi gave them each some papers. “Here are copies of new changes I made in the format of the weekend shows. If you have questions or need further instructions, just ask. That will be all for now.”
Her jaw clenched tightly, Lindsay rose to leave the private office, giving Brant the chance to curry favor with Desi. Hurrying toward the door, she managed to avoid him, but realized she behaved foolishly for, after all, she had no choice but to learn to work with the frustr
ating man. It would be impossible then to keep much distance between them, but for now she needed to be alone and adapt to the idea of sharing her beloved job with another radio host.
Time sped by and at the end of the day Lindsay stepped outside into the sweltering heat that was unusually warm for June 1. Seeing Brant standing along the cracked sidewalk, she immediately wished she’d lingered inside awhile so she wouldn’t be forced to speak to him now.
Maybe he won’t say anything, she hoped, still feeling uneasy in his presence.
“If it’s any consolation to you, I don’t want to work with a partner either,” he confided as if he sensed her antagonism, “but I don’t make the rules around here.”
Unfortunately, neither did she or Brant would have been on his way to work anywhere but at WBKB. “I guess there’s nothing for either of us to do except make the best of our situation.”
“Right. Looking on the bright side of the matter, if I had to get stuck with a partner, at least it’s a pretty one.” His eyes traveled down to her long legs and rested on her shapely ankles above the bone high heels she wore on her small feet.
To Lindsay, it was bad enough that she’d be forced to share her job with him. What annoyed her the most, though, was that he appeared to be interested in her more as a woman than as a competent co-worker. She considered telling him in a straightforward manner that their relationship would be strictly business, so in the event that he had any ideas concerning her, she could squelch his interest right from the start. Then she decided that the best course of action would be to simply ignore any overtures on his part.
“We’ll both need to do our best to give the listeners an interesting program,” she discreetly changed the subject.
“Yes, I agree. See you around.”
A metallic blue boy’s bicycle with a metal basket attached to the shiny handlebars was parked on the sidewalk a few feet away from her. On his way to the parking lot, Brant paused near the bike, and reaching into his pocket, dropped a handful of coins that clinked as they fell into the container. He sauntered toward his car, a sleek red Jaguar XF-R, unlocked the door and slid into the matching red bucket seat before he drove away.
From where she stood in front of a large glass door on the tall brick building, Lindsay thought his behavior was peculiar. “Did you see what Brant Diamond did?” she asked Danielle, who’d stepped outside.
“No. What?”
Lindsay related the story to her, and then added, “That guy is full of surprises.”
“Hmm. It sounds a little like what he did one time when we worked at the same station in the past. It was getting close to Christmas while a group of us had lunch in a fast food restaurant. A little girl who sold holiday cards in an effort to earn money to buy gifts approached us. Most of us made a small token purchase, but Brant declined to buy anything from her.”
“You mean he’s a Scrooge?”
“No! When the little girl left her purse on our table while getting change from the cashier, Brant slipped a hundred dollar bill inside it before he left. He must have thought no one noticed him do it. And can you imagine the little girl’s face when she found it later?”
“Maybe Brant is rich and gets his kicks by leaving anonymous gifts to unsuspecting recipients.”
“I doubt it. When I knew him a few years ago, he earned the same salary that I did, and believe me, it wasn’t enough to qualify either of us as being tremendously wealthy.”
“Then perhaps he experienced a poor childhood and does whatever he can to help kids now.” Lindsay felt touched by this thought.
“That’s probably more likely to be true. Being an only child, Brant told me once that he never knew his father who died shortly before Brant was born. Growing up wasn’t easy for him. He explained that he often did odd jobs when he was young to help his mother pay bills.”
For the first time, Lindsay began to consider Brant as a person to be respected for his admirable qualities rather than one to be resented because of the threat he posed concerning her career. Perhaps they’d be able to work together without disastrous consequences, after all.
“I suppose you heard by now that Brant and I will form the new weekend team.”
“If you’ll work with Brant, I should warn you about him. In New Orleans he chose to project an image which was a unique combination of the stereotyped boy next door and also a playboy. Somehow Brant put forth enough sentimentality and vulnerability that people liked him a lot. At the same time, Brant was still able to play the type of guy who always gets the last word.”
“It sounds like he can project himself as a complex character.”
“If Desi allows him to act like this at WBKB, you should be aware that Brant can slide in remarks that can be more cutting than a surgeon’s scalpel if you get on his bad side. Yet he always remembers to use tact.”
“I hope he and I can work peacefully together, but if we don’t, I can handle any underhanded attack he might make in an attempt to steal my job.”
“Unless he changed, Brant plays fairly, not dirty, but you’d better stay alert. He’s no pushover.”
“You make it sound like he could be serious competition.”
“If you go up against one another, he will be. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Thanks, but I’m not worried about Brant threatening my job…at least not yet anyway.”
The weekend came too quickly and brought with it the kind of hot, humid weather that Lindsay remembered her only sister, Constance, an asthmatic, always dreaded. It was difficult to believe that twelve years had passed since she was fourteen, and Constance, three years older, died. The pain of losing her sister still ached inside Lindsay and she suspected it was these sorrowful memories that prompted her parents to move to Florida recently. There they could retire without seeing daily reminders everywhere of their elder daughter.
Wearing a new pale blue linen sheath that she hoped would boost her wavering morale, Lindsay prepared to initiate the new format of their program. Brant was already upstairs, reading over the scripts when she arrived at the station. Apparently, he hadn’t relied on clothing to inspire self-confidence since he was dressed casually in blue jeans and a short-sleeved yellow cotton shirt that exposed the rippling muscles of his sun-bronzed arms.
“I’m glad you’re early,” he addressed her without looking up from the script.
“Did you want to talk to me about something before we go on the air?”
He nodded. “What do you think of this idea—you and I project the image of two singles enjoying life to the fullest instead of being stuck working on weekends? We could exchange some light banter which will lead listeners to presume that you and I might have a special relationship off the air as well as on.”
“No way! I refuse to deceive the listeners. The idea of presenting ourselves as a couple seems pointless.”
“Not really. When our listeners get accustomed to associating the two of us with the show, they’ll automatically think of us as a pair.”
She held her head high. “I won’t do it.”
He gestured with his hands and said, “Okay. Desi and I just thought it might add a little spice to the program.”
“You don’t waste time, do you?”
He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Already you went behind my back when you met with Desi and somehow persuaded him to side with you before I ever heard the suggestion. If your idea concerns me, why didn’t you ever stop to consider my feelings on the subject before you went rushing to tell Desi about your brainstorm?”
“Perhaps I should have spoken to you first,” he admitted. “Please accept my apology. It wasn’t my intention to exclude you, nor did I mean to antagonize you. The welfare of our program was my sole purpose for introducing the subject.”
She looked directly at him, wanting to be certain that he understood her feelings clearly. “My thoughts are that we can present a fine show without adding sexual undertones. Besides, the audience can
be our toughest critics. They’d eventually catch on that you and I aren’t really a couple off the air. Then we’d look like what we’d be—two phonies.”
“Maybe you’re right. I wouldn’t want to be exposed as a fake.”
Switching on his mic and adjusting his headset, Brant didn’t wait for Lindsay to introduce him on the air. Bubbling over with confidence, he appeared as comfortable with the job as if it were already his and she was no more than a guest on his show. “Hello, Columbus. I’m Brant Diamond, part of your new weekend team. I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves because there’s no time like the present to leave your cares behind while my leading lady, Lindsay, and I help you unwind by listening to your favorite hits. Having fun, Lindsay?”
“Sure,” she lied, peeved that he appeared to mock her.
He played a song and grinned as he turned off his microphone for a few minutes. “What’s the matter, Lindsay? You look like you’re ready to pull out someone’s hair—namely mine. Is it really so hard for you to share your job?”
She gritted her teeth and pretended that it wasn’t. “I’ll get used to it.”
An hour after they were on the air, Lindsay concluded that her worst fears about Brant came true—he was good. Too good. His eloquence of speech and quick wit marked him as a true professional and blended to form the hard-to-find traits of a terrific disc jockey. This brought mixed emotions to her since it was imperative that both of them make a good impression as individuals and also as a team. However, she secretly hoped that she’d be the best, but now it was difficult to determine which of them could add the most to the show.
Through the clear glass panels that divided the radio room from the outer office area, she saw Desi waiting outside. He flashed them the “thumbs up” signal, then disappeared.
After the show, Lindsay stepped out of the broadcasting booth and extended her hand to Brant. Strength emanated from his smooth palm as he shook hands with her. “Congratulations. You did a fine job,” she complimented him.