guy takes me to like a really stellar classic concert- like, say, Rihanna-he’s going to expect something. It’s up to me to decide whether he gets it. Guys know this and girls know it. What’s the difference? Coming across for Rihanna- which I absolutely would not do, incidentally-or coming across for ten million dollars a year…which is really a lot…” For a moment, the possibilities of a check with all those zeroes mesmerizes Brit. Her voice trails off.
I bring her back to earth.
“So you’re cool with Evan’s father marrying Misty.”
“Absolutely. My grandma always says, ‘There are no pockets in a shroud,’ and she’s right.” Britney’s voice grows solemn. “I would just like to say that I wish Henry and Misty every happiness.”
“You’re a good person, Britney,” I say, and I mean it.
Time to move back into Charlie-D mode.
“So there you have it,” I say. “Our resident romantic, Britney, has given the soon-to-be newlyweds her blessing. I’d like to add my good wishes. Henry and Misty, here’s to you. May you live happily ever after.
“Next up…a first-time caller whose name is…” On my computer screen, there’s a blank where the name should be. I shoot Nova a questioning glance.
She lowers her eyes and opens her talkback.
“Just take the call,” she says. Nova would never make a poker player. Her tone is no-nonsense, but she can’t stop beaming.
I shrug and open my mike.
“O-kay, so our first-time caller’s identity is a mystery, but hey, life’s a mystery. Our topic tonight is fathers. If you have thoughts on the subject, give us a call at 1-800-555-2333 or email us at [email protected].
“So, Caller X, time for you to join the party. How did you make out in the great Daddy Derby?” For a beat there’s silence, and then I hear the ear-splitting, surprisingly lusty cry of a newborn.
I open my talkback to Nova.
“Is that who I think it is?” She nods and gives me a bullet-stopping grin.
On the line there is muffled laughter. Then I hear the gravelly voice I’ve heard through my headset since the night I started at CVOX. “Hey, Charlie, you were just talking to my son-Aldo Patrick DeLuca Junior. The kid’s got lungs, eh?”
Again, I find my throat closing-not a good thing in my business. Genuine emotion is the enemy of talk-radio hosts.
“Yeah,” I say. “The kid’s definitely got his father’s lungs. For those of you who don’t know him-that’s the voice of our technician, Aldo DeLuca. He’s the guy who makes it possible for you out there and us in here to communicate. So, Aldo, when did your son make his appearance?”
“Two minutes ago-he didn’t want to miss his debut on ‘The World According to Charlie D.’”
“So the kid’s a trooper. Speaking of troopers…how’s Ruby?”
“Great. Beautiful. She won’t let me take pictures of her until she fixes her mascara- which is impossible because she’s so happy she can’t stop crying. I’m crying too. So’s Aldo Junior. We’re the happiest people on earth.”
I laugh. “Keep it up.”
“We will. Hey, Charlie, I heard what you read earlier about how a lot of sons are worse than their fathers. I just want to say that this isn’t going to happen with me and Aldo Junior. I’m going to do everything in my power to make my son a better man than me.”
He chokes, and when he returns, Aldo’s voice is husky with emotion.
“I’m outta here,” he says. “When my son listens to the tape of the night he was born, I don’t want him to hear me blubbering.”
Aldo is a macho guy. He has a great work ethic, but before he and Ruby got together, Aldo and Nova locked horns over his attitude toward women and the mottos on his T-shirts.
Ruby changed everything. She transformed Aldo from a tough guy into Prince Charming. When Nova was pregnant, Aldo treated her as if she was spun gold. When Ruby became pregnant, Nova hovered over Aldo
In the control booth, Nova is mopping her eyes with a tissue. I check my computer screen. Henry Burgh is next on deck. I take out my bottle of aspirin. Too soon for the next dose, but I leave the bottle on the desk. Sometimes even the promise of relief is a relief.
I shoot Nova a glance, but she’s busy keying a message into her computer. The glow has gone from her face. Her body is tense. I check my screen. Henry Burgh is a primo caller, but we’re not going to him. We’re going to music again. We never have two tunes this close together. Something is not right.
“O-kay,” I say. “Here’s a song for Aldo and for all the other guys out there who take their dad-ly duties seriously. It’s the Winstons with ‘Color Him Father.’”
I hum a few bars along with the Winstons, and then I turn on my talkback. “Only two callers and we’re already doing another tune?” I say. “Are you afraid Henry Burgh is going to turn Misty loose on me?”
Nova is staring at her computer screen. “At the moment, Henry is far from our biggest problem. Loser1121 just emailed his plan for the murders. I’m forwarding it as an attachment.” There’s a catch in her voice. “Charlie, this is a nightmare.”
I open the attachment. It’s an architect’s blueprint of a house. Loser1121 has marked his route for the killings in red Sharpie. The thick red line starts in the kitchen, goes up a back staircase and then to a large bedroom on the east side of the house. Outlines of twin beds are drawn against one of the walls. Each bed is marked with three letters. I assume they’re the initials of the person who sleeps in the bed: LMK and VCK. On top of each set of initials, loser1121 has drawn a large X.
The red line leaves the bedroom and goes down a hallway into a wing on the west side of the house. The blueprint identifies this as the master bedroom. A double bed is drawn against the far wall. At the head of the bed, there are two sets of initials: MEK and JAK. Both are X’d out. Finally the red line doubles back to the stairs that lead to the third floor. The bed in this loft bedroom is marked with the initials JJK. It, too, bears an X. Each of the sets of initials is numbered. LMK is number 1; VCK is number 2; MEK is 3; JAK is 4; and JJK is numbered 5. The thick red line stops at JJK’s bed. His will be the last blood shed.
The Winstons’ graceful tribute to the stepfather who raised them to be proud and loving men ends. It’s my turn now, but I can’t move. Through my earphones, I hear dead air-fatal for talk radio. Nova takes over. Her voice is shaky, but she’s in charge. “The cops are on their way,” she says. “Henry Burgh’s on line one. Can you handle him?”
I nod, take a deep breath, dig deep for my cool voice and flip on my microphone. My hands are trembling, but my imitation of the unflappable Charlie D is convincing.
“Hey, Henry, this is a big night for us. You’re a first-time caller and our show’s first billionaire. Thanks for joining the party.”
Henry’s bass rumbles with authority, but he’s in high spirits.
“I wanted to thank Britney for her good wishes. Misty’s right here with me, and she appreciates Britney’s kindness too. People of my generation are often too quick to dismiss young people. They have a great deal to offer.”
“Agreed,” I say. “You’ve obviously discovered that Misty has a great deal to offer.”
Provoking a billionaire is never a sharp move, but Henry takes my comments in stride.
