SUMMER INTERNSHIP POSITIONS/DEPARTMENT 9 page

"You can count on me, Mr. Ryan."

"Call me Johnny. I'll see you Friday. Say eight A.M.?"

"I'll be here."

She played and replayed the encounter over and over in her head as she walked briskly down the street to the bus stop and caught a ride.

She'd actually made her own internship. Someday, when Phil Donahue interviewed her, she'll tell this story to show her gutsy determination.

Yes, Phil. It was a bold move, but you know broadcasting. It's a dog-eat-dog world, and I was a girl with ambition.

But she'd tell Katie first. Nothing was quite perfect until she shared it with Kate.

This was the start of their dream.

The cherry trees in the Quad marked the passing of time better than any calendar. Pink and full of blossoms in the spring; lush and green in the warm, quiet days of summer; gloriously hued for the start of school; and now, bare on this November day in 1981.

For Kate, life was moving much too quickly. She was light-years away from the shy, quiet girl she'd been on arrival. In her years at UW, she'd learned to direct Rush Week skits, to organize and plan a dance for three hundred people, to chug a glass of beer and shoot a raw oyster, to work the room at a frat party and be comfortable around people she didn't know, to write edgy news stories with a hook and a splash, and to film that same story even if she was moving while it happened. Her journalism professors had graded her highly and told her repeatedly that she had a gift.

The problem, it seemed, was her heart. Unlike Tully, who could barrel forward and ask any question, Kate found it hard to intrude on people's grief. More and more often lately, she held back on her own stories and edited Tully's instead.

She didn't have what it took to be a network news producer or a first-rate reporter. Every day, as she sat in her broadcast and communications classes, she was lying to herself.

She dreamed lately of other things, of going on to law school so that she could fight the injustices she reported on, or writing novels that made people see the world in a better, more positive light . . . or—and this was the most hidden dream of all—falling in love. But how could she tell Tully these things?

Tully, who had taken her hand all those years ago when no one else would, who'd spun the gossamer dream of their lives as partners in TV news. How could she tell her best friend that she no longer shared their dream?

It should be easy to say. They'd been girls all those years ago when they'd chosen to embark on their tandem life. In the years between then and now, the world had changed so much. The war in Vietnam had been lost, Nixon had resigned, Mount St. Helens had blown up, and cocaine had become the Chex mix for a new generation of partygoers. The U.S. hockey team had pulled off a miracle win at the Olympics and a B-rate actor was president. Dreams could hardly remain static in such uncertain times.

She simply had to stand up to Tully, for once, and tell her the truth, say, Those are your dreams, Tully, and I'm proud of you, but I'm not fourteen anymore and I can't follow you forever.

"Maybe today," she said aloud, dragging her backpack along beside her as she walked through the gray, foggy campus.

If only she really had a dream of her own, something to replace the twin-TV news stars. Tully might accept that; Kate's vague, I don't know, wouldn't hold much water with Tropical Storm Tully.

On the edge of campus, she merged into the stream of kids and crossed the street, smiling and waving at friends as she passed them. At the sorority house, she went right to the living room, where girls sat packed like hot dogs on the sofas and chairs and on every patch of the celery-green carpet.

She tossed her backpack to the floor and found a spot on the floor between Charlotte and Mary Kay. "Has it started?"

About thirty people shushed her as the General Hospital theme music started. Laura's face filled the screen. She looked beautiful and dewy-eyed in a gorgeous white headdress. A collective sigh went around the room.

Then Luke appeared in his gray morning suit, smiling at his bride-to-be.

Just then, the sorority door banged open. "Kate!" Tully yelled, walking into the room.

"Ssshhh," everyone said at once.

Tully squatted behind Kate. "We need to talk."

"Shh. Luke and Laura are getting married. You can tell me about your interview—you got it: congratulations—when it's over. Now be quiet."

"But—"

"Shhh."

Tully sank to her knees, mumbling, "How can you all be so gaga over some skinny white guy with a bad perm? And he's a rapist. I think—"

"SHHH."

Tully sighed dramatically and crossed her arms.

As soon as it was over and the music started up again, she popped to her feet. "Come on, Katie. We need to talk." She grabbed Kate's hand and led her away from the publicness of the TV room, through the halls, and down a flight of stairs to the sorority's dirty little secret: the smoking lounge. It was a tiny room, tucked behind the kitchen, with two love seats, a coffee table littered with full ashtrays, and air so thick and blue it hurt your eyes, even when no one was in the room. It was the place for after-party gossip and late-night laughter.

Kate hated it down here. The habit that had seemed so cool and defiant at thirteen was gross and stupid now. "So, tell me everything. You got the internship, right?"

Tully grinned. "I did. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Some weekends. We're on our way, Katie. I'll nail this job and by the time we graduate, I'll talk them into hiring you. We'll be a team, just like we always said."

Kate took a deep breath. Do it. Tell her. "You shouldn't be worrying about me, Tully. This is your day, your start."

"Don't be ridiculous. You still want to be a team, don't you?" Tully paused, stared at Kate, who screwed up her courage and opened her mouth. Then Tully laughed. "Of course you do. I knew it. You were just messing with me. Very funny. I'll talk to Mr. Ryan—he's my new boss—just as soon as he can't live without me. Now I gotta run. Chad will want to hear about the interview, but I had to tell you first." Tully hugged her fiercely and left.

Kate stood there, in the small, ugly room that smelled of stale cigarettes, staring at the open door. "No," she said softly. "I don't want to do that."

There was no one listening.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Thanksgiving in the Mularkey household was always a spectacle. Aunt Georgia and Uncle Ralph drove over from eastern Washington, bringing enough food with them to feed an entire community. In years past, they'd had their four children with them, but now those kids were adults themselves and sometimes had other families to visit on the holiday. This year, Georgia and Ralph were alone, and looking a little dazed by their situation. Georgia had poured herself a drink before she even bothered saying hello to anyone in the house.

Kate sat on the threadbare arm of the cherry-red sofa that had been the centerpiece of this living room for as long as she could remember. Tully sat cross-legged on the floor at Mom's feet. It was her usual spot on holidays. Tully rarely liked to be too far from the woman she considered the perfect mother. Mom, in Dad's La-Z-Boy, was across from Georgia, who sat on the sofa.

It was the girlfriend hour—a family tradition. Georgia had devised it years ago—before there were any kids to care about, or so family legend had it. Every holiday, for one hour, while the men were watching football, the women gathered in the living room to have cocktails and catch up on the news. They all knew that soon enough there would be a Herculean amount of work to do in the kitchen, but for sixty minutes, no one cared.

This year, for the first time ever, Mom had poured glasses of white wine for Kate and Tully. It made Kate feel very grown up to sit here on the arm of the sofa, sipping her wine. Already the first Christmas album of the year was on the turntable. Elvis, naturally, singing about the little boy in the ghetto.

It was funny how an album, or even just a song, could remind you of so many moments in your life. Kate didn't think there had ever been any family event—Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, the yearly camping trip—that had been Elvis-free. It just wasn't a Mularkey family moment without him. Mom and Georgia made sure of that. His death hadn't changed the tradition at all, but sometimes, if they drank enough, they'd hug each other and cry for the loss of him.

"You should see what I got to do this week," Tully said, rising to her knees in her excitement. Kate couldn't help noticing that she looked like a supplicant, waiting for Mom's blessing. "You know the Spokane rapist case? Well," she said dramatically, luring them in, "the guy they arrested? His mother hired someone to kill the judge and prosecutor. Can you believe it? And Johnny—that's my boss—he let me do a first draft of the copy. They even used a sentence I wrote. It was so cool. Next week he's letting me tag along to an interview with a guy who invented some new kind of computer."

"You're really on your way now, Tully," Mom said, smiling down at her.

"Not just me, Mrs. M.," Tully said. "It's going to work out with Kate, too. I'll get her an internship at the station; you'll see. I'm already starting to drop hints. Someday you'll see us both on TV. The first pair of female anchors on a network news show."

"Think of it, Margie," Georgia said dreamily.

"Anchors?" Kate said, straightening. "I thought we were going to be reporters."

Tully grinned. "With our ambition? Are you kidding? We're going straight to the top, Katie."

Kate had to say something now. This was spinning out of control, and honestly, today was a good time to come clean. A round of drinks had softened everyone. "I should tell you—"

"We'll be more famous than Jean Enersen, Mrs. M.," Tully said, laughing. "And definitely richer."

"Imagine being rich," Mom said.

Aunt Georgia patted Kate's thigh. "Everyone in the family is so proud of you, Katie. You'll make a name for all of us."

Kate sighed. Once again she'd lost her chance. Getting up, she walked across the room, past the corner where soon the Christmas tree would be placed, and stood at the window, looking out over the pasture. A blanket of glittery white coated the field, created sparkly mounds on the fence posts. Moonlight turned everything a beautiful frosty blue and white; with the black velvet sky, it looked like a greeting card. As a girl, she'd waited impatiently for this unexpected weather, prayed for it for months, and no wonder. Covered in snow, Firefly Lane looked like something out of a fairy tale. The kind of place where nothing could ever go wrong, where a girl should be able to simply tell her family that she'd changed her mind.

The last few months of their senior year were perfection. Although Tully spent more than twenty-five hours a week at the station where she was interning, and Kate spent an equal number of hours working at Starbucks, the new designer coffee shop in the Pike Place Market, they made sure to spend a lot of their weekend time together, playing pool and drinking beer at Goldies or listening to music at the Blue Moon Tavern. Tully spent a lot of her nights at Chad's, but Kate didn't say much about that. Truthfully, she was having too much fun dating to hassle Tully about her choices.

The only problem in Kate's life—and it was a biggie—was her upcoming graduation. She was going to graduate next month with honors, with a degree in communications/broadcast journalism, and she still hadn't told anyone that it wasn't her dream job.

Now, though, she was going to come clean. She was in one of the third-floor phone rooms, folded up to fit, and she'd just dialed home.

Mom answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Mom."

"Katie! What a great surprise. I can't remember the last time you called in the middle of the week. You must be psychic: Dad and I just got home from the mall. You should see the dress I got for graduation. It's beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you JC Penney doesn't have great clothes."

"What does it look like?" Kate was stalling; with half an ear, she listened to her mom's description. Mom had just said something about shoulder pads and glitter when Kate jumped in. "I just applied for a job at Nordstrom, Mom. In the advertising department."

There was a noticeable pause on the other end, then the telltale sound of a cigarette being lit. "I thought you and Tully were going to be—"

"I know." Kate leaned back against the wall. "A reporting team. World-famous and rich."

"What's really going on, Kathleen?"

Kate tried to put her indecision into words. She just didn't know what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. She believed there had to be something special out there for her, a path that was hers alone and held happiness at its end, but where was the start of it? "I'm not like Tully," she finally said, admitting the truth she'd known for a long time. "I don't eat, sleep, and breathe the news. Sure, I'm good enough to get all A's and my profs love me because I'm never late with an assignment, but journalism—TV or print—is a jungle. I'll be eaten alive by people like Tully who'll do anything for a scoop. It's just not realistic to think I can make it."

"Realistic? Realistic is your dad and me trying to manage our expenses when they keep cutting his hours at the plant. Realistic is me being a smart woman who can't get a job at anything better than minimum wage because I have no education and all I've done is raise kids. Believe me, Katie, you don't want to be realistic at your age. There's plenty of time for that. Now you should dream big and reach high."

"I just want something different."

"What?"

"I wish I knew."

"Oh, Katie . . . I think you're afraid to reach for the brass ring. Don't be."

Before Katie could answer, there was a knock at the door. "I'm in here," she called out.

The door swung open to reveal Tully. "There you are. I've been looking everywhere. Who are you talking to?"

"Mom."

Tully yanked the phone from Kate and said, "Hey, Mrs. M. I'm kidnapping your daughter. We'll call back later. 'Bye." She hung up, then turned to Kate. "You're coming with me."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Tully led her out of the house and down to the parking lot, where her new blue VW bug waited.

All the way into downtown Seattle, Kate asked where they were going and what was up until they pulled up in front of a small office building.

"This is where I work," Tully said when she turned off the engine. "I can't believe you've never been here before. Oh, well, you're here now."

Kate rolled her eyes. Now she knew what was happening: Tully wanted to show off some new triumph—a reel, a tape, a story she'd done that had actually been aired. As usual, Kate followed. "Look, Tully," she said as they made their way down the colorless hallway and into the small, cluttered space that was the Seattle office of KCPO-TV, "I need to tell you something."

Tully opened the door. "Sure. Later. That's Mutt, by the way." She pointed to a huge, long-haired, hunched-over guy standing by the open window, who was blowing his cigarette smoke outside.

"Hey," he said, barely lifting a single finger in greeting.

"Carol Mansour—she's the reporter—is at a city council meeting," Tully said, leading Kate toward a closed door.

As if Kate hadn't been hearing Carol Mansour stories forever.

Tully stopped at the door and knocked. When a male voice answered, Tully opened the door and pulled Kate inside. "Johnny? This is my friend Katie."

A man looked up from behind his desk. "You're Kate Mularkey, huh?"

He was, hands down, the best-looking man Kate had ever seen. He was older than they were, but not by much; maybe five or six years. His long black hair was thick and feathered back, with the barest hint of curl at the ends. Prominent cheekbones and a smallish chin could have made him look pretty, but there was nothing feminine about him. When he smiled at her, she drew in a sharp breath, feeling a jolt of pure physical attraction that was unlike anything she'd ever experience before.

And here she stood, dressed for work in her preppy Gloria Vanderbilt jeans, penny loafers, and red V-neck sweater. All of last night's curl had fallen out of her hair and she hadn't redone it this morning. She hadn't bothered with makeup, either.

She was going to kill Tully.

"I'll leave you two alone," Tully said, skipping out of the office, closing the door behind her.

"Please. Have a seat," he said indicating the empty chair across from his desk.

She sat down, perching nervously on the edge of the chair.

"Tully tells me you're a genius."

"Well, she is my best friend."

"You're lucky. She's a special girl."

"Yes, sir, she is."

He laughed at that; it was a rich, contagious sound that made her smile, too. "Please, don't call me sir. It makes me think some old guy is behind me." He leaned forward. "So, Kate, what do you think?"

"About what?"

"The job."

"What job?"

He glanced at the door, said, "Hmmm, that's interesting," then looked at her again. "We have an opening for an office person. Carol used to do all of the phones and filing, but she's going to have a baby, so the cheap-ass station manager has finally kicked in for a little help."

"But Tully—"

"She wants to stay an intern. Says that thanks to her grandmother she doesn't need the money. Between you and me, she's not great at answering the phones anyway."

This was all coming at Kate too fast. Only an hour ago, she'd finally admitted that she didn't want to go into broadcasting, and now here she was being offered a job every kid in her department at UW would kill for.

"What's the pay?" she asked, stalling.

"Minimum wage, of course."

She did the math in her head. With tips, she made close to double that much at Starbucks.

"Come on," he said, smiling. "How can you turn me down? You can be a receptionist in an ugly office for next to no money. Isn't it every college grad's dream?"

She couldn't help laughing. "When you put it that way, how could I refuse?"

"It's a start in the glamorous world of TV news, right?"

His smile was like some kind of superpower that scrambled her thoughts. "Is it? Glamorous, I mean?"

He looked surprised by the question, and for the first time he really looked at her. His fake smile faded, and the look in his blue eyes turned hard, cynical. "Not in this office."

He got to her. She didn't know why, but it was powerful, this attraction she felt. Nothing like how she'd responded to college boys. It was another reason not to take the job.

Behind her, the door opened. Tully came through, practically bouncing. "Well, did you say yes?"

It was crazy to take a job because you were hot for the boss.

Then again, she was twenty-one years old and he was offering her a start in television.

She didn't look at Tully. If she did, Kate knew she'd feel as if she were selling out, following again, and for all the wrong reasons.

But how could she say no? Maybe in a real job she'd find that passion and brilliance she needed. The more she thought about it, the more possible it seemed. School wasn't the real world. Perhaps that was why the news business hadn't seized hold of her. Here, the stories would matter.

"Sure," she said at last. "I'll try it, Mr. Ryan."

"Call me Johnny." The smile he gave her was so unsettling she actually had to look away. She was sure somehow that he could see inside her or hear how fast he made her heart beat. "Okay, Johnny."

"All right," Tully said, clapping her hands together.

Kate couldn't help noticing how her friend instantly seized Johnny's full attention. He was sitting at his desk now, staring at Tully.

That was when Kate knew she'd made a mistake.

Kate stared at herself in the small oval mirror above the dresser. Her long, straight, highlighted hair was drawn back from her face and held in place by a black velvet headband. Pale blue eye shadow and two coats of green mascara accentuated the color of her eyes, and pink lip gloss and blush gave her skin some color.

"You'll learn to love the news," she said to her reflection. "And you're not just following Tully."

"Hurry up, Kate," Tully called out, knocking hard on the bedroom door. "You don't want to be late on your first day of work. I'll be down in the parking lot."

"Okay, so maybe you are following her." Grabbing her briefcase off the twin bed that was hers, she left her bedroom and headed downstairs.

In this last week of school, the hallways were crazy-busy with girls studying for finals, saying goodbye, and packing up their things. Kate wound through the melee and went out to the small parking lot behind the house, where Tully sat in her brand-new VW Bug, with the engine running.

The second Kate sat down and slammed the door shut, they were off. Prince's Purple Rain soundtrack blared from the tiny speakers. Tully had to yell over the music.

"This is so great, isn't it? Us finally going to work together."

Kate nodded. "It sure is." She had to admit she was excited. After all, she was a college graduate—or would be soon—and she'd found an excellent starter position in her major field. It didn't matter that Tully had gotten the job for her, or that she was essentially following her best friend. What mattered was doing this job to the best of her abilities and finding out if broadcast journalism was for her. "Tell me about our boss," she said, turning down the stereo.

"Johnny? He's totally good at what he does. Used to be a war correspondent. In El Salvador or Libya; who the hell knows? I hear he misses combat, but he's a great producer. You can learn a lot from him."

"Have you ever wanted to go out with him?"

Tully laughed. "Just because I slept with my prof doesn't mean every boss is fair game."

Kate was relieved by that; more so than she should be. She wanted to ask if Johnny was married—she'd wanted to ask the question for almost a week—but she couldn't quite form the words. They'd be too revealing.

"Here we are." Tully pulled up to the curb outside the building and parked. All the way up the stairs and down the hall, she talked about how great it was going to be to work together, but once they were in the small, cramped set of offices, she made a beeline for Mutt and huddled with him.

Kate stood there, clutching her fake leather briefcase to her chest, wondering what she should do.

She had just decided to take off her jacket when Johnny appeared, looking both incredibly handsome and profoundly pissed off.

"Mutt! Carol!" he yelled, even though they were all standing right there. "That new company, Microsoft, is announcing something. I don't know what the hell it is. Mike is faxing the info. They want you to go to the company headquarters and see if you can talk to the boss. Bill Gates."

Tully surged forward. "Can I tag along?"

"Who cares? It's a bullshit story," Johnny said, then went back into his office and slammed the door.

The next few moments were a blur of chaotic movement. Carol, Tully, and Mutt gathered up their supplies and rushed out of the office.

Kate stood there after they left, in the now-quiet, vacant office, wondering what in the hell she was supposed to do.

Beside her, the phone rang.

She peeled out of her jacket, hung it over her chair back and sat down, then answered. "KCPO news. This is Kathleen. How may I help you?"

"Hey, honey, it's Mom and Dad. We just wanted to call and say have a great first day at work. We're so proud of you."

Kate was hardly surprised. Some things in life never changed; her family was one of them. She loved them for it. "Thanks, guys."

For the next few hours, she found it remarkably easy to fill her time. The phone rang almost constantly, and the in-box on her desk looked as if it hadn't been touched in years. The files were an absolute mess.

She became so engrossed in her work that the next time she looked at the clock it was one o'clock and she was starving.

Certainly she was allowed a lunch break? She got up from her desk and crossed the now-clean office. At Johnny's door, she paused, gathered her courage to knock, but before she could do it, she heard yelling from his side of the door. He was on the phone, arguing with someone.

It was better not to interrupt. She set the phone's answering machine on automatic pickup and ran downstairs to the deli. There, she bought herself half a ham and cheese sandwich. On impulse, she bought a cup of clam chowder and a BLT as well. A pair of Cokes finished her order. Bag in hand, she ran upstairs and switched the phones back on.

Then she went to Johnny's door again; silence came from the other side.

She knocked timidly.

"Come in."

She opened the door.

He sat at his desk, looking tired. His long hair was a mess, as if he'd been running his fingers through it constantly, shoving it back from his face. Dozens of newspapers covered his desk, so many that even the phone was hidden. "Mularkey," he said, sighing. "Shit. I forgot you started today."

Kate wanted to make a joke about it, but her voice wouldn't cooperate. She was so keenly aware of him, it was vaguely disturbing that he hadn't even known she was here.

"Come on in. What do you have there?"

"Lunch. I thought you might be hungry."

"You bought me lunch?"

"Was that wrong? I'm sorry, I—"

"Sit down." He pointed at the chair opposite his desk. "I appreciate it, really. I can't remember the last time I ate."

She moved to the desk, began unpacking their lunch. All the while she felt him watching her, those flame-blue eyes of his intently staring. It made her so nervous she almost spilled the chowder.

"Hot soup," he said, his voice low now, intimate. "So you're one of those."

She sat down, looking at him, unable not to. "One of those?"

"A caretaker." He picked up the spoon. "Let me guess: You grew up in a happy family. Two kids and a dog. No divorce."

She laughed. "Guilty. How about you?"

"No dog. Not so happy."

"Oh." She tried to think of something else to say. "Are you married?" popped out before she could stop it.

"Nope. Never. You?"

She smiled. "No."

"Good for you. This is a job that takes focus."

Kate felt like an imposter. Here she was, sitting across from her boss, trying to focus on saying something that would make him admire her, and she couldn't even make eye contact. It was crazy. He wasn't that good-looking. Something about him just hit her so damn hard she couldn't think straight. Finally she said, "You think they'll come up with a good story at Microsoft?"

"Israel invaded Lebanon yesterday. Did you know that? They've driven the Palestinians back to Beirut. That's the real story. And we're in the shit-ass office, dicking around with soft news." He sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just having a bad day. And it's your first." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "And you bought me soup. Tomorrow I'll play nice, I promise."

"Tully told me you used to be a war correspondent."

"Yeah."

"I guess you loved that, huh?"

She saw something flash through his eyes then; her first instinct would have been to label it sadness, but how could she know? "It was insane."

Date: 2015-12-17; view: 577