“You do, too, so festive,” Courtney said.
“Oh, this?” Dallas asked, her hand on her coat. “No, no. This was just the preshow.” Dallas removed her cream-colored coat with a flourish and got the attention of everyone in eyesight. Underneath she was wearing a short, red velvet dress with white faux fur trimming each wrist. The deep V down the back was also lined in the white, fluffy fabric. With her hair perfectly coiffed in a big and voluminous blowout, she looked like a seductive Santa’s helper, a naughty Christmas elf. If she would be forced to share the spotlight, she wanted to be damn sure everyone was looking at her.
Any other reporter would have never been taken seriously in that outfit, but this was Dallas, and this was the reporter Tuscaloosa knew and loved. Courtney was no competition, and that’s just the way Dallas wanted it. Sure, she’d be freezing, but beauty was pain, she always said, especially with stakes this high.
In the minutes before the parade began, Dallas surveyed the lineup. The mayor’s float was just in front of the swans, and she could see Kitty and the mayor carrying on and laughing. Just behind the maids a-milking float were Lewis and Vivi. Sonny, the police chief of homicide and Blake’s baby daddy, was walking right next to the mayor’s float. Farther up she saw Blake driving Vivi’s powder-blue convertible with this year’s Miss Christmas riding on the back. The girl was a gorgeous brunette, and she wore a white dress with a Christmas-red wrap, her crown perfectly perched on her head. The mayor had asked Blake to drive Miss Christmas for the city. And it was looking more and more like the mayor was soon to be Blake’s new stepfather.
The mayor’s float was spectacular. It was representing the city of Tuscaloosa, complete with a mini Black Warrior River, with water running into a recycling bin and actually flowing just like the real thing. The floor of the float was covered in the kudzu vines that ran down the banks of the real river. A park bench, where Kitty and the mayor sat, was situated just to the back of the river display, representing the gorgeous one-of-a-kind River Walk.
Everyone Dallas knew was all around her. She caught herself looking for Cal in the crowd. When she glanced back at Lewis’s float, she saw Cal running their soundboard. The radio station was broadcasting the parade live from the float, and Cal was the remote sound engineer, broadcasting the events back to the station at the Brooks Mansion.
Cal caught Dallas looking his way, and he smiled at her. She grinned but turned away quickly.
By now the sun had set and all the Christmas lights were aglow throughout the festive, historic downtown.
“Okay, you’ll be on in just a few minutes. All ready?” Mike asked.
“Certainly am,” she confirmed with her megawatt, camera-ready smile.
“We’ll let the parade begin and we’ll go live soon after. Just wait for your cue.”
Dallas glanced back at Courtney, who was sitting there chatting with Marty Raines, the weather guy, and every so often looking up to give a wave to everyone and no one at the same time.
It was time, and the float began to roll. Dallas was in her element with that microphone in her hand. She waved to the cheering crowds as the bands played and the dancers danced.
Just then, Courtney and Marty got up and began to walk to the other side of the float where it looked as though most of the crowd was. Dallas became immediately frustrated as she saw Courtney getting all the attention on that side of the float. She quickly ran over to that side, pushing her way in between the two of them.
“Dallas, time for the live shot,” Mike announced. But Dallas was too busy waving to her adoring public to even hear him.
“Dallas!” Mike shouted.
Finally the cameraman dashed over and stooped in front of her. She realized she was on.
“Good evening, Tuscaloosa, and welcome to the thirty-seventh annual West Alabama Christmas parade. We are live from atop the WTAL float heading down Greensboro Avenue...” she began. Just that second, a loud screech interrupted her speech, and a huge redneck monster truck jumped into the lineup in front of Blake’s convertible from a side street—pulling a real sleigh! The metal sleigh rungs were flinging up sparks of fire against the asphalt.
“Oh, my goodness,” Dallas said, trying to keep the live shot running smoothly. “Looks like we have company.”
The monster truck bounced on its massive oversize tires as the sleigh bumped and jumped over the city street. Several Tuscaloosa police officers tried to stop the driver as Sonny gave orders into the walkie-talkie in his hand.
“Anyone for a sleigh ride?” she said into the camera with a smile, attempting to make light of the situation as the cameraman captured footage of the renegade truck and sleigh.
At that second, the sleigh set off a shot of flame straight up into the air. The swans got spooked and one took off, flying over Miss Christmas and landing in the faux Warrior River on the mayor’s float. More sparks began to fly from the dragging sleigh, and more swans flew out of the makeshift pond on the seven swans a-swimming float.
“Well, it looks like we only have three swans a-swimming tonight,” Dallas said as one landed right at Courtney’s high heels. Another landed on the mayor’s float. Kitty had decided to get up and shoo them away, but just then the police were finally able to stop the truck and the sleigh, and the whole parade came to an abrupt, crashing halt, knocking Kitty off balance. With nothing to grab on to, she fell straight into the faux Warrior River.
Meanwhile, the swan on Dallas’s float was dashing hither and yon and began chasing Courtney.
“Oh, my,” Dallas said, smiling into the camera and trying her best not to burst out laughing. “It looks like our new reporter has attracted quite a fan club in town.”
Courtney dashed around the float, trying to get away from the worked-up swan as Marty ran behind and tried to catch it. Without warning, the parade started up again, and when the float jolted into motion, Courtney lost her footing and tripped over the swan.
“Swan one, Courtney zero,” Dallas said triumphantly, and Mike shot her a look.
Behind the TV float, Dallas noticed that the maids a-milking had just received a visitor, too. As soon as one of the swans joined the maids, all of the cows freaked out. All the mooing drowned out the choir just behind them. Dallas turned her attention away from the debacle and back to the camera, which was still running live.
“Wow, you learn something every day. I didn’t even know swans could fly! You have it live from WTAL—the seven swans a-swimming just joined eight maids a-milking, and the cows are none too happy with these party crashers. Looks like the cows are all backing up to the end of the float trying to get away from them. This is truly the live version of Angry Birds, y’all.” She laughed as she spoke, knowing this commentary would go down in history.
“Oh, my goodness. With the weight of the cows all on one end of the float, that flatbed is poppin’ a wheelie as the maids try to calm their bovines.”
All of a sudden, loud clopping noises were heard. Dallas looked around. It sounded like a heard of buffalo. “Oh, my God! Here comes Santa Claus, y’all—oh, and there goes Santa Claus!” she shouted as he swooshed by at top speed right in front of her. The cameraman flung the camera around just in time to catch Santa Claus flying by, hanging on for dear life as his horses pulled the sleigh at full gallop.
“Well, Santa was supposed to be the grand finale, but looks like he’s ended up being the intermission. Apparently he’s late to a last-minute elf meeting. Don’t worry, kids. This certainly won’t happen on Christmas Eve, because there are no swans at the North Pole and Santa usually has reindeer, not wild horses.” She flashed her smile. “I’m Dallas Dubois, for WTAL, reporting live from downtown Tuscaloosa. Merry Christmas, y’all!”
33
Dallas was feeling pretty good about things. The parade had given her a chance to shine in the middle of chaos, to show that she could st
ay calm and collected, turning a crazy set of events into TV-worthy news—always a good thing for a broadcaster. She arrived at the Gorgas House on the University of Alabama campus for the annual WTAL Christmas party.
The Gorgas House was famous far and wide in the South. It was the very first building on the Alabama campus. Built in 1829, it actually opened two years before the university itself. It was famous for many things but mostly for being one of the four original buildings to survive the burning of the campus during the Civil War in 1865.
Sweeping staircases on either side of the front entrance took the visitor up to an oversize front balcony, where many an Alabama wedding party had posed for pictures.
The building sat like the jewel in the crown, at the very center of the University of Alabama campus.
Dallas admired the house once again. If she ever got married again... But she brushed the thought from her mind and walked inside. The place was already bustling with Christmas cheer.
“Oh, honey, you look adorable.” Coco Channels, who’d named himself after his fashion idol, leaned in for a holiday air-kiss.
“Yes, doll, you look like a doll,” Jean-Pierre added as he leaned over for a hug. “Your glam factor is off the charts tonight.”
“Why, thank y’all so much.” Dallas batted her eyes.
Coco and Jean-Pierre owned their own catering and event planning company, A Fru Fru Affair, and they’d both renamed themselves when they’d begun their business. They were loud and creative, and Dallas knew they’d recently organized all of Vivi’s wedding events this past summer. They had catered the station Christmas party and they certainly didn’t disappoint.
The lovely Gorgas House was covered in Christmas tinsel, upstairs and down. They even had fake snow brought in and spread all over the front grounds. Inside, yards and yards of red silk and tulle were draped all across the ceiling, and brightly colored Christmas lights were wrapped around everything that didn’t move—and some things that did.
Four large cakes were spread across the antique dining table, each shaped as one of the station call letters, WTAL, and a fabulous ice sculpture in the shape of a microphone stood in the center of the room. In the corner of the room was a karaoke machine, and at the back near the kitchen was a huge screen for the blooper reel.
Dallas always hated that part of the Christmas party. She was such a perfectionist, and when she screwed up in a taped stand-up, which was rare, she always cussed like a sailor under her breath. She hated watching herself with any imperfections, especially since the blooper reel was specifically designed to make everyone laugh at the subject’s expense. She dreaded the thought of the footage Daniel would be showing later on.
“Hey, Dallas, I’ve been looking for you,” Daniel said, coming up behind her as she was checking her coat.
“Merry Christmas, Daniel.” She gave him a hug.
“Merry Christmas to you, too. I loved that play-by-play of the parade! Maybe you could fill in for Lewis sometime in the Alabama booth, huh?” Daniel said, hugging her back. “You were brilliant.”
“Yes, indeed,” Mike said, walking up to join them in the foyer. “You were great tonight, Dallas. No one will ever forget that commentary.” He rolled into a hearty laugh. “You are magnificent in the live element, no doubt about that.”
“Thanks, Mike, and Merry Christmas,” she said, reaching over to hug him. Midembrace, Courtney James walked up and stood behind Mike, face-to-face with Dallas. She had a sickening smile pulled across her face, and her arms crossed in front of her.
“Yes, Merry Christmas, Dallas,” she said. “What a marvelous job you did tonight.”
Dallas pulled away from Mike.
“Oh...thanks, Courtney. I’m so sorry about that swan. I mean, who knew swans could even fly? Are you okay?”
“Just twisted my ankle a little. That was quite the commentary you were giving, though.”
“Thanks. You know how it goes—I just called it like I saw it,” Dallas said, becoming a little wary of Courtney’s comments. Just where was she headed? Dallas wondered.
“It’s just too bad about the unfortunate choice of attire.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, it would have been better to look like an anchor than like Santa’s little helper, don’t ya think?”
She gave Dallas a sympathetic smile, then turned on her heel to strut away just as a few of the rather tipsy staff members came in from the front grounds, covered in snow, tossing fake snowballs. A bigger fellow moved to dodge a snowball tossed by a cameraman, knocking Courtney clean off her feet. Down she went, her glass of champagne spilling all over her blouse.
Sometimes, fate was just on your side.
Dallas reached down with Mike and helped pull Courtney back up.
“Ugh,” Courtney heaved as she brushed herself off. “Such teenage behavior!”
It really seemed as if Dallas was experiencing some pretty good karma for a change. She made her way to the champagne fountain for a celebratory drink. She roamed around for a few minutes in an unusually good mood, hugging and greeting her coworkers and Merry Christmasing everyone.
Just as Dallas reached the area near the big screen, Mike announced the blooper reel would be starting. She cringed and moved to the side, trying to make her way to the back, so if her bloopers were off-the-charts terrible, at least she wouldn’t have to be there right in front to hear the jabs and jeers.
The reel began, and Dallas tried to pry her way to the back of the laughing crowd. She was like a salmon swimming upstream; as the party moved forward to get a better look, she was pushing against them in the opposite direction but getting nowhere.
“Next is our lovely Dallas Dubois, and I can tell you, she had quite a year, y’all,” Mike said as he held the remote control in his hand. “Let’s just say, this year she went for the ride of her life.” He clicked a button and immediately everyone saw a clip of Dallas from the back at the opening of Lewis’s radio station. She sat atop a massive mule—Daniel’s idea of creative commentary—when suddenly it took off down the yard with Dallas hanging on for dear life.
“Help get me off this—bleeeep—thing!” she screamed as the mule dashed around wildly. Another long string of curses escaped Dallas as the mule made no move to slow down.
Everyone at the party roared with laughter, watching the big screen as Dallas shot past the camera. Trapped at the front of the room with her coworkers ribbing and chiding her, she felt like a kid in elementary school who had wet her pants while standing at the chalkboard. Instead of laughing along with everyone, she was mortified.
Finally, she was able to squeeze out a side door for some air. The night was cold and crisp. She took in a deep breath and wrapped her arms around herself, her breath making little puffs of steam in front of her. Several other people were outside drinking eggnog spiked with Jack Daniel’s.
Marty Raines, the weather guy, walked right up to Courtney, who was also outside, and planted a fat kiss on her lips, then leaned back, laughing. He then wobbled over to the young female news assistant and fixed his lips right on her mouth, too. Not wanting to be the next victim of the drunken kissing bandit, Dallas bounded back around to the front of the house. But just as she was fixin’ to step through the door, Marty stumbled toward her, lunging into her arms from inside, and planted a huge kiss right on her lips, lingering a tad too long.
At that exact moment, Dallas, wide-eyed and shocked at the unexpected face plant, glanced at the parking lot to see Cal getting out of his car just in time to see the big wet slobber from Marty. Just perfect, she thought, knowing that to Cal, it must have looked as if she was making out with Marty.
Dallas shoved Marty away, “Oh, my God! Please go get sober someplace far away from me.” She looked up and saw Cal getting back into his car to leave. She ran through the side gate of the Gorgas House with no coat an
d only the little red velvet dress, which only barely covered her backside, trying to catch him. Sure, they were broken up, but she still didn’t want him to think she had already moved on. But by the look Cal shot her as he drove away, she knew that’s exactly what he was thinking.
34
Saturday morning came with loads of December sunshine. It was a cold day outside, but bright, glaring sun stretched its way across Dallas’s yellow patchwork quilt that she used every winter. Her grandmother on her mom’s side had made the quilt when Dallas had been about nine years old. Those had been the happiest of times for her, even though her dad had already left.
Back then, her mother had sung in a hotel most nights and Dallas had spent much of her time at her grandmother’s house. It had been the place of stability for her, where she’d felt safe to write and create. Even as a child, she would set up her Barbies and stuffed animals and pretend to present the news. She’d written her little scripts by hand at her little wooden desk, her golden blond hair held back with a ribbon, her gleaming smile flashed to her pretend camera made of cups. She’d always known she was born to be a broadcaster.
Dallas stretched under the sunny quilt and grabbed her cell phone, which was plugged in next to her bed. She had a text from Blake waiting for her.
Ready when you are. We’ll see you at Vivi’s in a few.
She was glad they’d be getting the set repairs underway, but her mind was still on the poorly timed kiss that Cal had seen last night. She felt she needed to text him, to give him an explanation of some kind. But she had no idea what to say. They weren’t together anymore, but she couldn’t deny that she cared deeply for him. She missed him more than she wanted to. So many times over the days since she’d sent him away, she would pick up her phone and look at it, thinking she would send a “Hey, how are you?” text, but then chicken out. Even in that moment, her heart quickened as she thought about what to say to him.
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