by Natasha West
‘Loads!’ Gabby exploded.
‘No, I mean, right now. People in your life.’
Gabby thought. ‘Four.’
‘OK, and how many of them are single?’
Gabby paused. ‘Two.’
‘Am I one of those two?’ Izzy asked.
‘Yes’ Gabby admitted.
‘So you’re trying to set up the last two single lesbians you know.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’ Gabby demanded.
‘The point of a set-up is to put together people you think will mesh. People with common interests, shared values, all of that. If the only thing I’ve got in common with your friend is that we both have and enjoy boobs, it’s not going to fly, is it?’
Gabby’s face fell. Izzy enjoyed how flattened she looked. This was not the first time some good-hearted straight friend had tried to set her up. She knew how their minds worked. They meant well but they were essentially thoughtless about the love lives of gay people. They approached it like hamsters. Stick them in a cage and watch them go. Well, Izzy wasn’t wasting a night trying to find a scrap of common ground with a stranger. She had her work. That would do. Love was a waste of energy, energy that could go into something that had the slightest chance of lasting. For Izzy, the idea of trying to make love last was like building a sandcastle right at the water’s edge. Time and her personal failings could only do what they always did. Wash it away.
Twenty-Nine
Izzy sat back in the booth, almost asleep as she listened to Grant read the headlines in the studio. It was his voice that was putting her under. That dependable yet dull baritone.
‘The police say they have several suspects to speak to’ he said and then announced the time. He was mixed over to the morning team and walked out of the booth. ‘That was fucking ridiculous!’ he said to Izzy, far less calm and measured.
‘What was?’ Izzy asked. This was happening more and more. Temper tantrums. They were now coming once a day.
‘You didn’t here that? Why am I surprised?’
‘Grant’ Izzy said calmly. ‘What?’
‘They cut me off.’
‘No they didn’t, I was listening.’
‘Right, listen again’ Grant demanded.
Izzy checked the recording of the output. She heard nothing. ‘I don’t hear it.’
Grant leaned over the PC and replayed the final three seconds. There was a fade over from his voice to the jingle. The transition was barely detectable. ‘There. You lose about a third of the last syllable.’
Izzy took a moment to collect herself. ‘It’s live radio, it happens. It’s an entirely acceptable loss. You can still hear the last word you say.’
‘It’s the disrespect’ Grant moaned. ‘I’m sick of it. And as my producer, it’s your job to take it up with those morning arseholes.’
Izzy wasn’t about to complain about something this piffling to the morning crew producer, Jenna. She was an intimidating creature at the best of times. She never shouted but somehow, she was still terrifying. It was in the eyes. Izzy glanced out to see Jenna in a booth adjoining studio one. Izzy gave her a friendly wave and smile. Jenna held up a hand back, but she didn’t smile. That was normal. Izzy wasn’t even sure she had teeth.
‘Look, I’m sorry, OK. But this is just something you’re going to have to accept’ she told Grant as gently as she could. ‘We’ve got to pick our battles, Grant. And this isn’t the hill we die on’ she said, trying to get him under control.
Truth was, she didn’t mean a word of it. He always made it so hard to take his side. Because the problem wasn’t mix-over etiquette. It was Grant’s fragile ego. Everyone knew he had his sights on an on-camera presenting job one day and so far, he was no closer. It wasn’t because he couldn’t do it. It was because he was a diva, and everyone knew it. The problem was a snake eating itself. The more difficult he became, the worse his reputation got, the further he got from the big job, the more difficult he became.
Izzy’s job had become less about producing the news and more about producing Grant. She was sick to the back teeth of it. Still, she couldn’t seriously consider firing him. Hateful as he was, he was decent at his job and Izzy didn’t want to fire anyone unless she absolutely had to. So unless Grant became completely incompetent, she was just going to have to grit her teeth and wait. She wasn’t going to work here forever.
But something special was in Grant’s craw today. He wasn’t letting this go. ‘I’m just saying, those morning prats are just so bloody pleased with themselves because it’s the top job.’
Izzy listened as Grant went on and on about his nemeses, the morning crew, Dave and Mike. How they were up their own arses, how they were brainless, how they never invited him to drinks, it was all pouring out. Izzy decided to take her mind to another place, somewhere pleasant. As Grant barked on about how he’d almost had one of their jobs and only lost it because he’d called the station head’s wife a bovine at the Christmas party, Izzy was in a hammock on a warm beach, a gentle breeze blowing. As she waved at a waiter passing by for a fruity cocktail, she noticed that Grant’s face was starting to look extra purple. She fell back to earth with a bump.
‘In fact, you know what, fuck you!’ Grant said.
‘Fuck me?’ Izzy asked mildly. ‘Why me?’
‘Because you never have my back with those bastards.’
‘Yes I do’ Izzy told him, rubbing her temples, tired. Grant had never sworn at her like this, but still, she was willing to let it go. I will not fire him she told herself. It had become her mantra these days.
But then a miracle happened. ‘No, you don’t. You don’t care about me or how I feel, no one in this place does. So you know what?’ Grant said, ramping up, ‘I’m done. I’ve had enough. I FUCKING QUIT!’
Izzy stared as Grant spun to the studio and put two fingers up at Dave and Mike. Mike was mid speech and he was so distracted by Grant’s angry gesture, his voice trailed off, leaving dead air. Dave jumped in quickly, spreading gentle inanity over the moment and Mike gathered himself, joining back in.
Grant turned back to Izzy with a satisfied smile. ‘This is it. I’m changing the story. This is the moment I leave you all and go on to better things’ he announced and walked out.
Izzy watched him go. She wished him well, she truly did. But most of her well wishes went to anyone stupid enough to hire him. They would need all the strength they could muster. Izzy needed strength now too. Because she had one hour to find someone to read the news at nine.
She ran upstairs to the office, straight to the people who were paid to deal with this kind of rubbish. She ran in and went to the station manager’s office. ‘Jeremy!’ she huffed, out of breath, ‘I need a new presenter.’
‘Is Grant ill?’ Jeremy asked and then dropped his tone. ‘Please let it be something serious.’
‘Ha, no, he’s not ill. He’s just quit’ Izzy told him.
Jeremy clutched his hand to his chest. ‘He didn’t!’
‘Yep. He walked just now.’
Jeremy fought to get his teeth under control, but they appeared anyway. ‘That’s terrible’ he grinned.
‘Can you dance on his grave another time? He’s left me with no one to cover the morning.’
Jeremy stopped grinning. ‘Right, yeah, lemme think.’ He chewed his lip for a second and then said, ‘Oh! I might have someone. Let me make a quick call.’
Thirty
Izzy was in her office, sweating bullets. It was ten minutes ‘til the hour and she still didn’t have anyone to cover. Jeremy had told her half an hour ago that someone was rushing in and that she would absolutely be there in time to get prepped and then let fly. He swore she was the girl for the job, someone who’d been recording jingles for years and was looking to make the leap to news. She would be there with bells on, so he said.
But the minutes ticked on. Izzy was starting to think she was going to have to do it herself. And Izzy was no ingénue, waiting in the wings for the star to break her leg
so she could dance on and steal that show. She had no interest in the on-air side of things. She liked to be behind the scenes, making things happen, steering the ship. That was where she belonged.
Nonetheless, if this cover didn’t show up in the next minute, Izzy would have to face a personal nightmare. A mic and a script.
‘I’m here!’ said a voice. Izzy’s door opened, and the owner of the voice ran in. ‘I’m sorry, I’m here, I’m ready!’ Izzy looked up to see what she was dealing with. The woman was about thirty, glasses perched on top of a fashionably windswept bun. Izzy got up to shake her hand and the woman immediately dropped her bag. Izzy leaned down at the same time as the woman and they cracked heads.
‘Christ!’ Izzy cried and looked to see if her head-butter was injured. She was clutching herself but already apologising. ‘Oh my god!’ she wailed, mortified. ‘Is your head alright?’
Izzy’s head did hurt. But this close to her brand-new newsreader, she was getting a better look at what lay beneath the chaos of her entry. She was looking at bright green eyes and delicate, waifish features. Izzy also couldn’t help but note that beneath the loose jumper, a slender, almost fragile body hid.
‘I’m alright’ Izzy said, meaning it. Funny how the pain was suddenly forgotten.
‘I’m Zoe. Zoe Moore’ the woman said. ‘Thank you for this opportunity. I’ll try not to head butt you again.’
Izzy smiled, in spite of the circumstances. And then she glanced at the clock over Zoe’s shoulder. Five minutes to go. She stood quickly. ‘Right, let’s get you in the studio.’
Thirty-One
Izzy listened to Zoe finish the segment and she made a note to send Jeremy a fruit-basket. He’d delivered with Zoe. Zoe’s voice and manner were exactly what you’d want from your news. Her tone seemed to stroke up your spine like a long finger, tickling you here with the fluffy news, soothing you through the rougher stuff but all the while making you feel like everything was going to be fine. Izzy was knocked sideways.
Zoe came out of the studio, going into the booth with a nervous grin. ‘Whoo! That was fun.’
Izzy nodded. ‘Glad you liked it. I thought I was going to have to read the news myself for a while. That would have been dreadful.’
‘I think you’d have been alright’ Zoe said, regarding her. ‘You’ve got the voice for it.’
Izzy gave a nervous giggle that she hated the sound of and said, ‘Ha. Nails on a chalkboard.’
Zoe, now a lot calmer than when she’d burst into Izzy’s office, shook her head and smiled. ‘We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.’
Izzy coughed, just for something to do. The eye contact Izzy was getting from Zoe made her feel wibbly, way too girlish. She wanted to look down at the ground and say, ‘Oh stop it!’ But she was at work. She couldn’t get all silly just because a pretty girl was paying her attention. She wasn’t eighteen anymore. ‘Anyway, you did a great job. Thanks for rushing in like this.’
‘I don’t know about great job, but it’s something for the reel. What happened to the other guy, anyway?’
‘Umm, he felt his talents might be better utilised elsewhere.’
‘In the middle of a shift?’ Zoe asked.
‘Yeah. I was less than thrilled about his timing but if he had to go, he had to go’ Izzy said diplomatically.
‘Well, it was really great to meet you’ Zoe said, putting out her hand. Izzy took it and had the most sexually charged handshake of her life. A nanosecond before it might have gotten weird, they both pulled out. Izzy felt tingly.
‘See you around’ Zoe said and began to walk out. Izzy watched her go, wondering if she’d ever see Zoe again. And then she realised something. ‘Wait! Do you want a job?’
Thirty-Two
Zoe was good. Really good. Izzy couldn’t believe this was her first permanent on-air job. She was a pro from the outset, always prepared, always hit her cues, always sounding like silky confidence. After the hardship of Grant, working with Zoe was like slipping into a warm bath.
But Izzy was worried. Zoe had caught her eye the second she’d slammed heads with her. Izzy was concerned about developing a crush. Scratch that, it was too late there, she was full on crushing. So it was more that she was worried it would get out of hand. Had she thought about that when she’d hired Zoe? Yes. Had she told herself that it would be alright, that she’d get over it? She had. Was that a lie? Without question.
So she was walking the line, every day. Between behaving professionally and respectfully whilst simultaneously trying to figure out if there was a possibility that she might have a shot with Zoe. She did that by asking subtle questions about Zoe’s after work plans, trying to ascertain if she was single. It seemed she was. But what did it matter? She was Zoe’s boss. Sleazing was not cool.
Yet still, as Zoe’s honeyed tones slipped into her ears every day, she couldn’t help but wonder how that voice would sound in other contexts. Naked contexts. Izzy was disgusted with herself. She had to stop this.
‘And that’s the news at ten’ Zoe said and took her headphones off as the on-air sign turned off. She walked into Izzy’s booth and perched a cheek on the desk. ‘How’d I do?’
Izzy raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t have to ask me that every day. I’ve told you. You’re doing a great job. I’m actually happy Grant left’ Izzy told her, hoping that sounded professional and not creepy.
‘I guess I’m still adjusting. I’ve been waiting for this for ages. You have no idea.’
‘Then you’ve paid your dues’ Izzy told her. ‘Just accept you’ve earned this. Because in a few months, you’re probably going to start getting other offers.’
Zoe laughed at the outrageousness. ‘God, you’re so nice to me. Makes me wonder what you’re buttering me up for’ she said and then said, ‘Coffee?’
Izzy nodded mutely, and Zoe walked out. Izzy sat in the booth, eyes narrowed, doing yet another breakdown of a moment with Zoe. Was that ‘Buttering me up’ comment flirtatious or innocuous? Izzy was dreadful at picking up on such things. Particularly when she cared about the outcome.
When Zoe came back in, she handed Izzy her coffee and said, ‘Hey, I was thinking... I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime. Not at work kind of thing.’
Izzy swallowed. ‘Sure. Err, yeah. Sure. Yeah.’ She stopped talking before she was trapped in her banal loop.
‘Great’ Zoe beamed. ‘So anyway, I wanted to ask you something about levels…’
Izzy only half listened. Inside, she still didn’t have a clue what was going on. Why was this so hard? Because she was at work, that was why. This was supposed to be her haven from all that romance bullshit. But she’d gone and confused it, taking the world she understood and diluting it with the one thing she didn’t. Women. She just hoped it wouldn’t end up biting her in the arse.
Thirty-three
It was just a movie. Friends went to movies. People went to movies with their parents. Mothers even went to movies with their babies. Izzy had once even heard of a thing where people took their dogs to see a movie. It was just a movie.
But as Zoe sat next to her and the curtains closed, the lights went down, Izzy was questioning everything. Was this a date? How could you ever know for sure if your work colleague was being friendly or if she was being friendly? If Izzy got this wrong, it wasn’t just awkward in the moment, it was awkward every single workday. A polite nightmare from which she’d never wake until she eventually buckled and quit from sheer awkwardness.
The problem was, Izzy had been single for so long, she had no idea about dating anymore. It had probably changed since the last time she’d been seriously looking. Actual years had passed since then. She’d always thought by the time she’d reached this age that she’d be more confident about woman, better at dating, smoother at the whole thing. But she felt no better off than she had at eighteen, falling into bed with the wrong girl and getting her heart stomped on. It wasn’t fair. Things should have changed by now. She should have been an adul
t. But as Zoe tilted her popcorn over and Izzy smiled her appreciation and grabbed a handful, she felt like a toddler.
‘Have you heard anything about this film?’ Zoe asked. She’d been the one to pick, at Izzy’s insistence.
‘No’ Izzy said. ‘I never seem to have the time to go to the cinema these days.’
‘OK, well, it’s a thriller’ Zoe told her.
Izzy had hoped the film choice might be an indicator of the type of evening this was supposed to be. But it revealed nothing.
***
The lights went up and Izzy blinked in the hard light. She looked to Zoe, waiting to get her take. ‘That was shit’ Zoe said.