Chapter 1
Adelaide Mason, Voice of CHARGE News
“Up in 10, Ms. Mason.”
I barely heard the intern’s voice in the noise of the activity blustering through my dressing room as half-a-dozen others rushed back and forth from one task to the next - all focused around making sure that I was ready for being on camera. It was all background noise to me at this point after so many nights of following this routine to the letter. I knew exactly how much time I had. I always did. It had become a point of pride of mine to always be exactly on schedule. It had carried me through high school with perfect grades, college with honors, and even in graduate school my ability to always stay on task had become something of a conversation point among my peers.
Even when I was younger, my parents had come to expect to see me at the dining room table in the mornings when they woke up. They knew that I would be up long before them, and would probably already have the morning’s chores underway. In fact, my dad became used to having a fresh pot of coffee already brewed by the time I was seven years old. You could set your watch according to my daily schedule - so, no; I didn’t need anyone to let me know that there was only 10 minutes left of my pre-show prep.
But, still, every intern knew that if they failed to give me that reminder, my producer, Mark, would have them out the back door before the broadcast started. He insisted on making sure that everything ran smoothly and consistently, and it was no secret that failure to meet even one of those kinds of standards that he set would result in, at the very least, an intern being fired.
I always thought Mark was a bit harsh on these kinds of things, but his awards spoke for themselves. He had been a fixture in the industry when I was still taking journalism classes and wondering what I should actually major in. Besides, I had to admit that it was helpful for me to still get that reminder, even though my internal clock was never a moment behind on the nights that I was going to be on the air. It was almost like one of those old cuckoo-clocks that sounded off loudly at the top of every hour, no matter what. In 10 minutes, I would be sitting in front of the lights. In 10 minutes, I would be getting ready to go live to millions of people. In 10 minutes, I needed to be Adelaide Mason, the voice of CHARGE News.
So, I took the reminder in stride and checked it off as one more thing that had gotten accomplished properly. Even as Larissa, my makeup girl, loudly smacked her gum in my face while she droned on and on about her divorce or one of her most recent boyfriends; I was still in the zone and ready to make the most out of this broadcast.
Larissa was the perfect example of what happened to my work life when I insisted on handling my own affairs, rather than letting Mark take care of them, as he had almost come to expect.
He had warned me that Larissa was, as he put it, “a motormouth;”. Sure, Larissa was a bit of a mess, but after two years, she hadn’t slipped up once while staying on task and finished her job exactly as I wanted her to. And, if I had to put up with just a little extra chatter in the process, it would be worth it in the end.
Looking back as I sat in that chair, I think I could honestly say that it had been worth it. Up to that point, everything that I had set my hand to had worked out. I was successful, rich, affluent; there wasn’t anything that I couldn’t make happen, if I wanted to. My work in broadcasting had paid off and, as long as I stayed on track, I was on my way to being the top news personality in the entire city, not just here at CHARGE.
“Tilt,” came Mai’s much softer voice from behind my chair as she went to work putting the finishing touches on my hair for the broadcast. I complied with her gentle touch. I looked back to my phone, resting in my lap as it vibrated gently with a text. I didn’t even have to look at the phone to know who it was from. It came just as expected.
I smiled as I read the short text.
Break a leg, kid - Mark
I read it quickly before swiping it off my screen as Mai continued her quiet work. I knew Mai wouldn’t say anything about it even if she had seen who the text was from. Mark had insisted that,I kept it to myself until Mark and I agreed that the time was right.
Larissa finished my makeup, talking for exactly another three minutes before finally giving me the “ok” and leaving me alone in my dressing room for the final two minutes that I had before the intern came back to take me to the set.
It was one of the few moments of my days that were not completely overwhelmed with a schedule or people talking to me. Even though it was only two minutes, it meant I finally had a chance to catch my breath before going on air.
I opened my phone again, looking back at Mark’s text.
Break a leg, kid
I wanted to write a response to his text, but caught myself before typing the first word. Mark was a sophisticated man who was basically from a different generation from me. We had connected a lot at work, but there was still a little bit of a disconnect between us on certain things. Texting him wasn’t quite like texting guys I had dated in college. Or even when I was a cub reporter a lifetime ago, where I had at least ten guys a week trying to shove their numbers onto my phone. They had always been so easy to text because they were so… needy.
But, Mark was different. A text for him meant something far different; and that was something that I wanted to take very seriously; and I really didn’t want to screw it up.
Not to mention him being one of the most influential names in the entire industry. Mark Brascoti’s name was synonymous with the news in this city. He had taken a small news channel and turned it into what was now CHARGE News, the city’s #1 news network for the past decade - long before the name Adelaide Mason meant anything. I had to admit that, since I had started working with Mark, even before we… connected, I had learned a lot. And so much of what I had learned had brought me to be in the seat I was sitting in tonight.
The seat of the top news anchor at all of CHARGE - the “voice,” as I was being called.
“Ready Ms. Mason?” The intern was back, right on time, ending my quick breath before the plunge into the next part of my busy night. He handed me my nonfat triple latte and a folded half-sheet of paper, listing the night’s line up as I brushed past him and into the hallway. He spoke rapidly, running me through it as I sipped my coffee while he quickly tagged along through the labyrinth of halls in the offices behind the bullpen. I listened to every word he was saying, but I already knew the line-up by heart. There was a reason I was the top anchor; I was prepared the moment I walked into the building that afternoon. We walked and talked nonstop from my dressing room and into the weaving hallways behind the studio.
No matter what program was running, there was always a bullpen full of people chasing a dozen stories at once. Even before we pushed into the bustling room, I could hear the rumble of chatter going on beyond. CHARGE News was a non-stop news machine and the bullpen was it’s beating heart.
It was another one of those things that I had come to rely on. I liked to think of it as the “energy” of the news rubbing off on me last thing before getting into the studio.
We whisked into the familiar room, pushing past a few other scurrying interns as they made way for us to get through.
The room was blaring with a dozen conversations, a thousand fingers on keyboards, and at least two of the researchers yelling at each other from across the room in something between an argument and an insult match. The lights were bright, the place reeked of stale coffee and hot copier paper, and there wasn’t a single person in the room that wasn’t doing several tasks at once.
Half a dozen others rushed past us with a “Ms. Mason, here is a change to this line,” and a “Ms. Mason, we’re moving this story to the end, before the last break.” I took in every word, listening carefully, but not bothering to respond. I had to keep my focus and the staffers knew that. We continued across the chaotic bullpen and up the stairs towards the studio as one-by-one the staffers melted away after having given me their messages and needing to return to their posts for the broadcast to start. .
The intern and I stopped right before the studio doors, hearing a piercing and familiar “Oy,” from behind us. I turned to see Mark hurrying across the bullpen towards us. I smiled, but couldn’t stop myself from glancing at the clock on the wall behind him. I was happy that I was able to actually see him before the broadcast, but I was still on a schedule.
“So sorry mate,” he said, eyeing the intern as he approached us. Not needing a verbal “fetch off,” the intern nodded and rushed through the studio doors on his own, leaving Mark and I by ourselves. He glanced over my shoulder discreetly, making sure the intern was gone before handing me a piece of paper. “Last minute addition,” he said, leaning in slightly as he lowered his voice. “Did you get my text, darling?”
“I did,” I replied with a coy smile. “And it would have been quite unprofessional if Larissa had seen it. She was doing my make-up, you know?”
Mark’s smile stiffened. “Oh?” He pulled out his phone, glancing at it. “Must have gotten... delayed. I had thought you would have gotten it earlier.” His brow furrowed slightly as he scrolled on his phone, finally shrugging and looking back up to me with a forced-smile.
“It’s fine,” I said. I put a hand on the side of his arm. “It was only 7 minutes later than I expected it. Besides, we can’t keep it a secret forever, you know.”
Mark raised an eyebrow and pretended to look down at the paper he just handed me. Mark was handsome, charming, and more than a little mysterious; but sometimes, it felt like just a bit too much mystery for me. I was ready for everyone at CHARGE to know that he and I were together. We had talked through so many different issues that might arise from telling everyone.
People might think I only got to where I was because he and I were sleeping together.
I wouldn’t get any other serious offers.
He had “bad experiences” in the past with those kinds of things.
My journalistic integrity might be compromised.
In turn, CHARGE NEW’s journalistic integrity might be compromised.
It went on and on with a dozen more reasons that he was convinced would be major problems that we would want to solve before we got to the point of telling anyone. And, it seemed like Larissa was something of a symbol to him of the last person that should know until we were ready. We talked and talked and talked over all of these issues, but, for him, it always came back down to waiting for the “right moment.”
“You can’t just admit that you wanted to see your hot, secret fiance before she goes on air and seduces a nation with her charms?” I said, my tone was as professional as it would be on the air.
He started to speak, but broke into a smile instead.
Instinctively, I leaned forward to kiss him, but he moved back as I moved in. Looking down, I saw his hand extended instead. “Have a good broadcast, Ms. Mason,” he said plainly. Deflated, I took his hand in my own, shaking it once.
“Thank you, Mr. Brascoti,” I replied. As I did, he let out a quick wink that was so fast, I barely caught it.
He nodded once more with a sharp smile from behind his salt-and-pepper beard before turning and disappearing back into the chaos of the bullpen. I looked down at the sheet of paper he had handed me, memorizing the details down to the last word before tucking it in half and pushing my way into the studio.
I cared for Mark dearly, but I had really moved past the point of “secret workplace romances. It was the last thing that was missing for me. I had gotten everything that I had set out to get in my career, now, I wanted the same thing for my relationships. Mark just seemed like the most logical “fit.”
I shook off the sinking pit that had started to grow in my stomach in the last 30 seconds as I walked purposefully across the studio and towards my chair.
There wasn’t time for all of that now. It was time for the news. And, no matter what, when I walked into that studio, the emotions had to be left behind. When I was in that studio, I was focused on one thing only.
The teleprompter started to roll and the lights went up.
I heard the voice in my earpiece, “we’re live in 5, 4, 3, 2…”
“Good evening and welcome to CHARGE News. My name is Adelaide Mason, and here is what happened in news today…”
