Page 31 of Under the Weatherman
I gaped at the equipment, overwhelmed, but still mostly optimistic. “It looks complex.”
“Tom handles all of that. As the senior producer, I’ll be right here, keeping things running on time. You can sit in with me until you get the hang of it.”
“Why do I need to get the hang of it? I was hired to write.”
She shot me an “are you an idiot” grimace. “You’re my backup.” I must have turned green because she waved a hand. “It’s not terribly difficult. I started doing this in high school. Anyone can learn.”
I didn’t believe her at all. She’d had years of experience.
Lauren appraised me with a raised eyebrow. “Can you work a computer?”
Barely. “I have a laptop.”
She shook her head. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
I couldn’t understand why she had so much faith in my potential. Surely there were other people qualified for the job.
But Lauren kept on going. She introduced me to “the personality” in the studio. I immediately recognized Sandra, the matronly Black woman, and Kent, the overly tanned middle-aged ex-football-player. He’d probably been extremely attractive in his youth. Kent winked at me, and I fought off a grimace. I traded smirks with Sandra. Her sardonic expression told me their professional on-air rapport must involve a fair amount of acting.
As we passed a green screen, Lauren said, “This is where our weatherman gives the forecast.” She walked on, pushing through another door. “He’s probably back with the meteorology equipment.”
My whole body tensed at the prospect of running into Evan again. I couldn’t tell if it was anticipation or stark terror.
Lauren led me down another corridor to a room filled with a hell of a lot of computers where the only weatherman awaiting us was an older guy I vaguely recognized. I felt simultaneously relieved and disappointed.
Evan had said he was starting this week, so I guessed that was that. I might run into him in the wild, but more likely, unless Chelsea started dating Basil for real, there was no reason to think I’d ever see Evan again. It was time to come to grips with the fact Evan had been a one-time thing and get over him.
Bob stood and crossed the room, looking at me with curiosity.
“Hello,” that voice resonated in my memory banks in an uncanny way.
“Bob, this is Elizabeth Wright, new associate producer. Elizabeth, Bob Laslow, meteorologist.”
“Believe it or not, you’re the second TV meteorologist I’ve met in the past month.” I blushed just remembering how I’d met Evan, how well I’d gotten to know him in a short time.
“Me, too,” said Bob, laughing. Obviously, he’d have a whole weatherman friend group. “It’s very nice to meet you.” He raised a brushy brow at Lauren. “And don’t take advantage of her just because you can.”
I didn’t like the sound of that at all, but then I remembered wiping down a bar with a spray bottle of bleach and water at two a.m. and suddenly, I wouldn’t care if Lauren made me fetch her dry cleaning.
Back in the newsroom, she led me to a bank of desks. “This will be your computer.”
A note had been left with my temporary username and password.
I glanced back at the open room wondering how I was supposed to work in the middle of the traffic and noise. Lauren must have read my mind and said, “You need to be out here with the rest of the staff. You’re going to be busy getting their input and writing, writing, writing.”
She left me alone to speed read the Associated Press, Reuters, theNew York Times,and every local paper. Gigi swung over and whispered, “Don’t let them scare you. They don’t pay us enough to take shit.”
I didn’t want to tell her that my salary was decent, but then my standards were English degree low. I still thought in terms of an hourly wage. “Lauren must be doing something right to get a promotion.”
Gigi shook her head with a sidelong glance toward the studio. “They throw money at the personalities while the rest of us are fungible.” She held out her arms. “I applied to the social media manager position.”
My chin dropped as I took her in. “You’re kidding.”
“Like I said. Whatever they told you your job is, that’s not your job.”
“Whatismy job?”
She shrugged. “Keep the talent happy. Don’t stick your neck out.”
