44
“George had to go to some sort of prayer breakfast,” Kim Palmeri told her.
“Where’s everybody else?” Debbie asked.
“It’s early. Can you do this?”
Debbie took the assignment sheet.
“It’s no big deal, but we need stories today.”
“You know what would make this good?” Debbie asked. “I could go out where people are dumping in the desert. Talk to these homeowners about people dumping in alleys. We could try to get an interview with the mayor.
“Obviously, if they are dumping it’s because there’s no place to put it or nobody is picking it up. We should ask him about that. Why aren’t there more heavy trash pickups? You think we could get to him on this?” She was excited now. This was the way stories should be done.
“Carter’s looking for you, Debbie.” Mary walked over to them. “He called a few minutes ago to find out if you were in.”
“Why?” she cried out as though she had been punched in the chest.
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. Probably nothing to worry about,” Mary reassured her. “He’s on his way in.”
“Ah, no,” she moaned. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
“I already told him you were here. I’m sorry, but you know how he is.”
Debbie searched for hope, any hope there could be. “It might be nothing,” she told them. “And, I need to talk to him too.” She tried to make her voice strong.
Maybe she could get to Brown first. He would help her. She would tell him her plan, that she wanted to do assignments. He would help her.
“Is Brown in?” she asked Kim.
“Not yet.”
“Well,” she said, “it will be okay, won’t it?”
The other women didn’t answer.
Ten minutes later Mary called.
“He wants you in his office.”
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. All the resolve, the joy that came with the drive yesterday had disappeared. She was filled with with terror. What was he going to do to her?
“I tried to get you at home yesterday,” Carter told her. “All day. Where the hell were you?”
“I wasn’t feeling well so I unplugged the phone, so I could sleep.”
“Listen, honey,” he sneered, “we’re on call twenty-four hours a day in this station. We don’t unplug our phones and we don’t take them off the hook. You got that?”
“Oh,” she said and gave a small smile of relief. “I am sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Was that all it was? Okay, then.
He narrowed his eyes.
“And we’ve got another problem here too. I want to know what the hell this talk is about your personal life. I don’t like that going on in my newsroom.”
“I don’t understand.” She reached for the edge of his desk.
“You heard me. There is some talk about your personal business and I want it stopped now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” his eyes narrowed, “this station is made up of ladies and gentlemen.”
She nodded, still confused.
“And I don’t want any dirt in this station.”
“Please,” she begged, “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What I’m talking about, sweetie, is some talk about you making a mistake in your personal life, one that affects this station. Is that true?”
Oh no, he knew about Jason and the abortion. What else did he know? Did he know about the doctor and the group and her breakdown? How could he know? Who would tell him that? Who? Ellen? Clifford? Who else did they tell? They must all know, everyone must know what she was and what she had done.
She stared at him, her face white with fear.
He smiled. She was scared. This one was scared.
“If there is something dirty going on, you clean it up,” he ordered. “I don’t want to know about it and I don’t want to hear anything else about it.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. “But, you get this and you get it right.” He pointed both index fingers at her. “Everything you do reflects on the rest of us. You are always on the job. Always. And, from what I’ve been hearing, you better shape up, young lady, and that means your work too.” Yeah, she should be scared. “I had my doubts about you right from the beginning. I didn’t think you were ready for us but….”
She jumped to her feet, cutting off his words.
“You are a vile, evil, old man, and you’re lying!” she shouted. “You don’t know anything about me. Nothing. I have to get out of here!” she yelled as she ran from his office.
He jumped after her, yelling from his doorway, “You get back in here, young lady. I’m not finished with you. You get back in here now.”
She was grabbing things off her desk. Tapes fell to the floor, coins and lipstick fell from her purse.
“No, no, no,” she was crying as she scooped everything back into her bag.
“Listen here, missy,” Carter was marching toward her, “you better get yourself under control.”
“No, no, no!” It was a scream of terror as she ran toward him.
Kim came around the corner of the row of cubicles, her eyes wide with excitement.
“No!” Debbie screamed again as Carter reached out as though to stop her. She pushed him aside. “No more.” she cried.
Throughout the room, across the desks, the early morning phones rang and rang.
*
Dr. Stanley Waddell puffed on his cigarette. He took another drag and checked his address book for her number. She missed her appointment yesterday.
Predictable, he nodded to himself. She was upset over the group session. Well, he was upset too and he had a right to be. She risked months of work with Terry, months.
All right, perhaps he had been a little hard on her, but he expected more from her. She was strong, much stronger than Terry. This could set Terry back months, he puffed, months.
The group worked better before Debbie came. Yes, it did. It certainly had been a more pleasant weekly experience. Now, no one wanted to come. It was too intense. People got too
