by Lauren Clark
Rick chatted with sponsors while the emcees regrouped. It would be another five minutes before they were ready to begin the formal program. I excused myself to check my makeup.
A few steps later, alone in the ladies room, the door swung shut behind me. I paused at the long row of sinks and glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I let my shoulders relax. I closed my eyes, basking in the silence.
“Hello there, Melissa,” a voice echoed in the small room.
My skin prickled. I knew that tone. It was familiar. And angry. I whirled around. Alyssa, complete with hat and purple dress, leaned against the wall in the corner. I gasped.
“Melissa Moore,” Alyssa recited my name like she was sounding out words in elementary school. “You told Tim that I wasn’t good enough for him. And you told Drew Mazner to get rid of me.” Alyssa’s voice cranked up an octave and she made a fist. “All because you were jealous. Jealous of me .”
Alyssa’s lost it this time. If she thinks I had anything to do with Tim and his affairs or Drew letting her go, she’s dead wrong.
I stalled for time, inching away from her. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, don’t play stupid.”
“I didn’t tell anyone anything, Alyssa. Why would I do that?” I asked, clutching a hand to my chest.
“You wanted my job. The whole time. You pretended to be nice. You pretended to help me. You acted like you cared about me.”
“I did—I do,” I defended myself.
Alyssa laughed. “And yet, there you sit.” She stomped her foot. “In my chair!”
She’d lost it. There was no reasoning with Alyssa. She truly believed I’d planned and schemed against her. I needed to get out of the ladies room, but I had to know one thing first.
“Did you send that package to my house? Those photos?”
Alyssa smiled.
“The note?”
“Oh, it was all in good fun. Poor baby, bless your heart. It didn’t upset you? Keep you up at night, worrying about your darling husband, did it?”
I refused to answer her.
Alyssa gave me a coy look. “Of course I sent it. It served you right. You needed to feel like I did. Like someone had betrayed you. Stabbed you in the back. Before I drove home that night, you told me, ‘Everything’s fine!’” Alyssa shouted. “Well, Melissa, everything is not fine.”
I inhaled sharply. Of course, ‘Everything’s fine,’ was what I had said. Leave it to a newscaster to take a quote completely out of context and use it to her advantage. I took a tiny step toward her.
Alyssa whirled around and grabbed at her purse with one hand. She held up a manicured finger and pointed it at me. Her hand shook the slightest bit. “Not one step closer. Stop moving.” Alyssa fumbled for her purse. “I’ve got a gun!” she screeched. “Don’t touch me!”
Leave! Run! I screamed inside my head. The air in my lungs turned to icy slush; my muscles froze in place.
Alyssa teetered back, but regained her balance and jerked the beaded edge away from her hands, breaking the clasp. The purse gaped open and swung wildly from her shoulder. I craned my neck to see, but couldn’t tell if the glimpse of silver in her bag was gunmetal or a lipstick case.
Alyssa tucked the purse beneath her arm, kicked off both shoes, and took a running jump at me. I dodged her, but like a caged animal set free, she scrambled up from the floor unscathed and clawed her back toward me.
She’s going to shoot me. Alyssa wants to kill me. She’s getting closer.
I braced for impact.
Chapter 37
Alyssa body-slammed me with enough force to make any WWE wrestler think twice about taking her on in the ring. I fell back, Alyssa on top of me, fighting like she was trying to get out of a casket after being buried alive.
“You’re going to be sorry,” she screeched.
Candace’s gown tore in at least five places as I fought to keep my face from getting permanently scarred. Beads from our dresses flew in every direction.
“When I get done with you, WSGA is never going to want you,” she promised me.
I was choking and thrashed against her grip with all my might. In an effort to get a better angle squeezing my neck, Alyssa moved her hand. In that instant, I elbowed her jaw, rolled away, and jumped to my feet.
Alyssa came at me again. Out of desperation, I did what any self-respecting girl in a catfight would do. I wanted to survive, after all. And not land in the emergency room. This was my best chance.
I grabbed hold of a handful of curls and yanked with all my might. I pulled her head close to mine and put my lips next to her ear.
“Stay away from me and stay away from my family,” I whispered.
She reached for my neck again, scratching the skin until it bled. With a last ditch effort to get her to stop fighting, I kneed her in the stomach.
Direct hit!
Alyssa twisted away in pain, clutched her abdomen, moaned, and dropped to the floor. Her purse, which she had somehow managed to keep hold of during the whole struggle, fell next to her with a thud.
I clamped my eyes shut, expecting the gun to go off.
Nothing.
I peeled open one eye and clung to the table next to my hip in an effort to keep standing. A lone lipstick case rolled across the floor.
Where is the gun? The floor rushed up at me. I snapped my eyes shut and tried to stop the room from spinning.
When I opened my eyes, Rick was hovering six inches from my face. He said something I couldn’t understand. I shook my head.
My mouth tasted like rubber cement. My tongue felt thick. “Wh-what are you doing, Rick?”
Someone patted my hair. A woman I didn’t know dabbed at my arm with a wet cloth.
“Give her some room,” Rick pleaded. “She’s in shock.”
No, I’m not, I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t tear my thoughts away from the sight of Alyssa’s purse hitting the ground. The scene played over in my head on automatic rewind.
I saw a police officer behind him.
Where’s Alyssa? I tried to ask after he walked over and bent down to take a look at me. My words came out as a mumble.
Rick’s worried eyes darted over me. “The paramedics are on their way—”
I tried to smile at him, but it seemed to take all of my energy. My vision seemed a bit off. It was so blurry that I thought I saw Chris. Someone else stepped into my line of vision, then out. He was still there. I blinked several times to try and see him better. My eyelids were so heavy. I fought to keep them open.
Whoever it was had the same build as Chris, with the same short, blond hair. Of course, it didn’t help that every man in the ladies’ room was wearing a black tuxedo.
I tried to wave, but couldn’t lift my arm more than an inch or two.
It is hot in this room. Why is it so warm? It’s making me so tired.
A few ladies brought over a bucket of ice. One woman scooped out a few chunks into a cloth napkin, which she tied into a bow.
“Here, darlin’,” she cooed and patted my hand. “Better hold this on your cheek. If you don’t, you’re going to have one big shiner.”
She didn’t wait for me to take the ice. The room tilted as she brought the cloth to my face.
“There, there,” she said. “All better.”
The chill seared my hot skin, like a bullet tearing through my cheek.
“Can I go home now?”
Chapter 38
The pillow under my head was soft as a cloud. The sheets smelled as clean as rain showers on a summer day. I snuggled deeper under the layers of blankets, drawing them up around my shoulders. A few threads of light danced on the wall nearest my bed.
I slipped in and out of sleep, dreaming first about Kelly as a baby, then a toddler. My thoughts turned to Candace and Ella Marie. My mind wandered, finally turning to last night. Rick was there, and Chris, and Alyssa…
Alyssa. Oh my.
The gun. The gala. The newscast.
Certainly, it was a bad dre
am. No, not a bad dream. If it really happened, that would be a nightmare. Of the Chernobyl kind.
Slowly, I moved the covers down a few inches. I hesitated, and then squeezed my fingernails into my palm. I ran a hand along my chest, then my shoulders, and throat. No bandages or slings.
Mother always said I had a great imagination. She actually said I could write a book from all the silly stories I told her. Of course, I was vying with the television, book-signings, and movie stars who always won out for her attention.
No, I think it this was real.
I moved my hand further up, this time to my chin. Then, one finger extended, I patted my cheek.
Ouch! I winced in pain.
The skin under my eye was as tender as a child’s scraped knee. My arm looked like I had tangled myself in a barbed wire fence. I pushed back the covers and examined my legs. Bruised. Stomach? Black and blue.
Someone—I’m sure Chris—had managed to wrestle a tee-shirt over my head. It seemed like my bra and panties were in one piece.
Candace’s dress lay carefully draped on the over-stuffed chair in near the window. What was left of it. The hem looked like edges had been dipped into a food processor. A long rip traveled from one hip to the knee. Splatters of dirt covered the bodice. And was that…more blood?
Okay. I didn’t dream any of it.
Wait. I remembered getting into the car. And driving. Chris was there and I was so sleepy. I must have dozed off in the car…
I sat up in a flash. Who did the ten o’clock news? And where was Chris?
My head swam, and then started to pound with the intensity of a steel drum. I covered my face with my hands, trying to block it out. My stomach churned. Could I make it to the bathroom if I was sick?
One hand behind me, I eased back down to my pillow and tried to swallow the nausea that welled up in my throat. Okay, so I probably should have gone to the emergency room. Why had I insisted I was fine?
I brought the other pillow to my face, blocking out the minute amounts of sunshine that made my eyes hurt. The floorboards in the hallway creaked. Chris. What time was it? I couldn’t move to look at the clock.
“You’re awake?”
The down-filled pillow muffled my voice. “Barely,” I replied.
I slid the pillow out of the way and looked at the ceiling, then moved my head so that I could see him in the doorway. “What time is it?”
“It’s just before eight a.m. You’ve been sleeping well. Hey,” he said gently, his eyes on my cheek. “How does that bruise feel?”
“Mmm. Not great,” I replied and looked away. “How does it look?”
“Not good,” Chris agreed reluctantly. His face was pale, matching the white-blonde of his hair. There were bags under his eyes. Dressed in pressed shorts and a crisp polo shirt, he looked ready for the golf course, except on any other day, he’d have been gone an hour ago, if not sooner.
“No work?” I prompted, wondering if I’d forgotten about a golf tournament or company picnic. There was no telling what was marked on the calendar. I hadn’t stopped to look at it in what seemed like weeks.
“Not right now.” Chris smiled quickly, and then frowned. “I told the office I was taking the morning off. We have lunch set up for noon. Tyler is perfectly capable of handling things until I get there. Actually, too capable.”
He gave a nervous laugh, shifted from side to side, and looked down the hall once or twice. I half-thought he expected people from work to be storming up the stairs, yelling that he was late for a meeting.
“If you think you need to be there, go ahead,” I offered.
I expected him to do the usual—nod and disappear—but he waited. So, I struggled to bring myself to my elbows, mostly to prove to Chris that I felt fine.
Obviously, I wasn’t fooling anyone, even myself. I wobbled and collapsed.
He rushed over to help, his hands so clammy on my arms that I shivered when he touched my skin. I couldn’t decide whether I trembled from the temperature of his fingers or the unusual amount of attention from Chris.
He grabbed two pillows and stuffed them behind my shoulders. Chris turned, opened a blind, then the window, and let the fresh air waft in.
“Better?” He sat down on the edge of the bed, his brow lined with worry.
“Yes, thanks.” After a few deep breaths, the cool air did start to clear my head.
“You fell asleep in the car. I guess Rick went back to the station to handle the news,” Chris confirmed, his expression sober. “He was pretty disturbed by it all.”
“Disturbed,” I echoed, making a face. “Alyssa tried to re-enact Kill Bill 2 .” I tried to joke, but choked on the words. My hand shook as I smoothed out the sheets.
Where were you? Who was that woman with you? Did I dream that, too?
“No one could find Alyssa,” Chris finally said.
My hand stopped moving. I tried to remember. “You’re kidding.”
Chris shook his head. “They searched the whole place. Checked bags on the way out.” He bristled at my look of doubt. “I’m sure the police will be by later to talk to you about it.”
“At the station?” I started to get up.
“Whoa!” Chris stood up, suddenly protective. “You’re not going anywhere. Not yet.”
“Yes, I am.” I pushed the covers down and drew my bruised knees up to my chest.
“Why—”
My cell phone buzzed before Chris could get an entire sentence out. Candace’s name flashed up at me. Without thinking, I started to reach for the phone.
Chris cocked his head and read the screen. “I’m sure she’s worried. I told her a little bit about what happened when she called last night. She kind of freaked out when she didn’t see you on the ten o’clock show. And Drew called to check on you this morning. He said not to wake you. And that you should take the day off.”
“Really?”
Chris stood up and ran his fingers through his hair, then straightened his polo shirt. “Why would you even think about working today? After all of this?”
“Chris, I don’t think you realize how important this is to me. The station. The job. Alyssa’s trying to ruin it for me. I’m not going to let her.”
Chris scuffed his shoe on the wood floor like a little boy. “So it’s a fight between you two?” he asked. “A competition? Is that why you’re doing this?” Chris laced his fingers and put his hands behind his head.
I tried to put a cohesive thought together. My temples throbbed, my arms ached. “Not at all. Listen to me, Chris. She sent that box with the photos and the note.”
“She admitted it?” Chris looked stunned.
“Last night. She told me.” I paused. “She said she had a gun, too, but I never saw it.”
He digested that information. “Okay, wow. She really has lost it this time. I always thought she was a little high maintenance, but this stalking bit is ridiculous.”
“There’s no telling what else she might do,” I agreed. “Which means I need to talk to someone at the station. I should just head in—”
“Melissa. The station will be fine. You need to rest.”
“I’m okay,” I said as my stomach protested.
“Look, I know you’re dedicated. But this is ridiculous. You got beat up last night.” Chris fumed and started to pace. “Are you doing this for your mother?” He asked suddenly. “To get attention? For her approval?”
“No, Chris,” I replied. I pressed my fingers together and set them under my chin. “Mother’s never going to notice or truly approve of anything I do, even if I anchored World News Tonight. And most days, she wouldn’t know if it was me or Barbara Walters on WSGA.”
Chris tilted his head and listened.
“I made a commitment to the station to fill in. And that’s something I take seriously.”
“So, you’re going to keep doing both, anchoring and producing, as long as they want you to? It’s too much. You’re going to burn out or get sick, or both.”
&n
bsp; “It’s not going to be this way forever. Besides, I like what I’m doing. It’s a good change for me. Drew will make a decision pretty soon.”
“How long does he want to keep you there?”
“I don’t know.” That was the truth.
But, if I wanted to shine and not sit on the sidelines, I had to tell Drew. And soon.
A gust of wind interrupted. Tree branches brushed against the house; leaves rustled. It smelled like rain—a change in the air. Maybe it meant a change for us, too.
Chris’ mouth crumpled into a bent line. He shook his head.
Surely, I hadn’t hurt his feelings?
“Chris,” I said gently. “I know it’s taking time away from us. We’re both incredibly busy. I know you have had some awful stress, with your parents gone, and Kelly leaving. I miss them. I miss Kelly something awful. That doesn’t mean I’m unhappy—”
He put a hand up. “I’m not being fair. You’re exhausted. We don’t have to talk about it right now. Just get to feeling better.” Chris managed a small smile.
“Okay.”
“As for the ‘new’ you, Melissa Moore—the anchor and producer and all around news person—it’s going to take me a while to get used to all of it.” He shrugged. “Hey, I’m going to let you rest and head on to the office. Call me if you need anything.”
Without another word, Chris closed the door behind him.
Alone in the room, I stood up and shook out my hair. My body still ached. I looked in the mirror at the black-and-blue marks on my face. At the moment, I looked the way my heart felt. Bruised.
Chapter 39
Three Post-it notes from Chris waited for me on the kitchen counter after my shower. I cracked open a Diet Coke and took a few bites of the eggs and bacon Chris left for me, and glanced at them warily.
“Call my cell phone if you need anything.” Anything was underlined twice.
The second Post-it was better. “Dinner Friday after the show? Reservations at Blue Bistro, 7 p.m.”
Number three said: “Called the Day Spa. They’ll fit you in.”
Yes. He was definitely trying to make up. Sweet. Very sweet. And doable today, if I wanted to. A long, hot shower helped, but my muscles were still screaming from last night’s tussle with Alyssa.