~ Frequency ~

by

Kathy Elbinger

Lorie Morrison’s heart leapt in her chest as she grabbed the door handle to her grandmother’s radio station. She paused to take a deep breath for courage and to settle the trembling in her knees and fingers. The station now belonged to her, passed down when her grandmother had died just over a month before. If only he wasn’t still working here.

She entered the tiny reception area and waited for the aging rodeo queen to look up from the tabloid magazine and notice her.

The fake wooden sign on the desk identified the woman as Fran. Whoever she was, she continued to ignore her new boss. Lorie cleared her throat.

Fran looked up at her, the frown lines deepening around the receptionist’s mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Is Alex Champion here?” Lorie asked, letting the irritation show in her voice. The ad agency in Albuquerque where she worked would never tolerate that kind of behavior. That’s small towns for you.

Fran punched the extension to the station manager’s office as if it was a bug that needed squashing. Lorie was amazed the woman could accomplish such a feat with two-inch-long acrylic nails painted the color of coagulated blood. She also noticed that the woman never asked her name.

“She’s here. Uh-huh.” Fran hung up the phone and with the same sour expression pointed down the hall with a crimson claw.

“Go ahead,” was all she said before returning to her magazine.

Knowing this was all the information she would get out of the woman, Lorie decided to find Alex’s office on her own.

It was just a few steps down a dim hall. The walls were covered with old dark wood paneling broken up here and there with a few plaques and pictures.

One of her high heels caught on a thread from a frayed spot in the carpet. Lorie glanced back at Fran as she recovered her balance. The woman still had her nose in the magazine, but now she was grinning. Lorie would deal with the receptionist later; she continued along the dingy carpet that might once have been beige. She tiptoed around a few more worn spots and wondered how long it’d been since the place had been remodeled.

Across from her grandmother’s old office was a window that allowed a view of the broadcast booth. It was pretty much the same as she remembered, except the walls could have used a new coat of paint and the equipment now seemed very old and out of date. The microphone hung from a metal adjustable arm and was held together in many places by duct tape. She nodded to the bearded man in the booth and continued a couple more steps to the manager’s office.

Her body refused to settle down when she stopped in front of the door with a rusty metal sign that read, ‘Station Manager’. She was bound to run into him sooner or later. It might as well be now.

No one responded when she tapped lightly on the door. She squared her shoulders and turned the knob.

“Tell him to call me as soon as you figure out where he is. Okay, thanks. Bye.”

She heard his voice before she could see him. Papers and files were piled high on the desk and the rest of the dim office was in similar disarray. The combination of the same dark paneling from the hallway, the single lamp on the desk, and a faint, musty odor added to the cave-like ambiance.

Alex ended his call and without looking up motioned her toward a chair that looked like it would crumble into sawdust if she sat on it. When was the last time her grandmother bought new furniture for this place?

She held out her hand instead of sitting down. “It’s good to see you again, Alex.” Her voice wavered, betraying her nervousness about meeting the man she’d once planned to marry.

He looked up, but didn’t shake her outstretched hand. A lock of dark brown hair fell over and nearly covered his deep blue eyes.

“Is it?” he said.

His eyes always reminded her of the dark skies of a thunderstorm, especially when he was ticked off about something. It was the first time she’d gazed into them in eight years. The years they’d spent living separate lives melted away on the spot.

“Let’s not start off on the wrong foot, shall we?” She tried to hold on to her temper. He was the same Alex she’d known since high school. Devastatingly handsome with a strong jaw that right now was clenched in irritation.

“Whatever you say,” he said, then shifted his attention to a memo on top of a stack of files about to topple over. She cautiously sat in the creaky chair and silently waited for him to continue the conversation. The air in the room wasn’t too great to begin with, and it grew even stuffier as the minutes ticked by.

She reached down to scratch her calf when the pantyhose started to itch. It was tempting to kick off the tight shoes that made her feet throb with pain. They were the only pair that matched her solid red power suit. She wore that suit like armor when she had to meet with a very difficult client or with the man who’d broken her heart.

He continued to ignore her. She was familiar with his game and was damned if she would let him get the upper hand this time.

Suddenly, he stood up and bolted out of the office. She recovered as fast as she could from his rude departure and headed after him.

“Hey! Wait!” she called after him.

“No time. You’ll just have to keep up,” he said as he continued to the back of the station.

She clicked her tongue and lengthened her stride to follow him. She almost ran into him when he stopped abruptly in front of the door to the basement. He didn’t acknowledge their near collision as he pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the padlock on the door.

Breathless from anger instead of the short jaunt down the hall, she said, “I thought we had a meeting.”

His glare made her take a step back. She’d only seen that look one other time. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re off the air.” He tilted his head toward a dusty, wooden speaker hanging from the ceiling to make his point.

“Where’s the engineer?”

“You’re looking at him.” The padlock clicked open and he removed it and went through the door. He flipped on the light switch and rattled down the bare wooden steps to the small equipment room below without saying another word.

She hesitated in the doorway, ice water flowing through her veins. Almost fifteen years ago one of the disc jockeys sent her down there supposedly to read the gauges. Instead, he turned off the light and locked her in as a cruel joke.

By the time her grandmother finally heard her frantic cries and fists pounding on the door and let her out, she was hysterical. It didn’t help that a couple of spiders had hitched a ride on her blouse.

Lorie took a deep breath and picked her way delicately down the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder a few times to make sure that the door was still open.

“Damn it.”

A tool clanged when it was tossed into a metal box. She rounded the corner and saw Alex on his knees trying to pry out a circuit board from the transmitter with his bare hands. Tiny droplets of blood oozed from a long, deep scratch on the back of one hand.

“Can I help?”

He looked over his shoulder at her and snorted in reply before returning to the circuit board. “It’s shot,” he declared. He tossed the useless component into a nearby trash can that was already full with a variety of discarded electrical parts. Then he grabbed a cardboard box and removed a new circuit board.

She studied his broad, muscular shoulders that tapered down to his waist. The wonderful view was topped off by the sight of his fanny pressing against the fabric of his jeans. He’d filled out nicely in the years since she’d left La Mesa. He was more handsome than she remembered.

He snapped the circuit board in place and quickly connected some wires as if he was racing the clock. Then he flipped a couple of switches. The unit hummed to life, and music once again played out of the ancient bare speaker in the dank little basement.

He closed the toolbox and started to walk past her. Partly out of fear of being locked in again and partly because she couldn’t resist touching him, she grabbed his wrist.

He stopped and raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Y-your hand,” she stammered. “It’s bleeding.”

“I’ll take care of it.” He tried to draw his hand away but she held on to it as hard as she could.

“Let go,” he said, and she did.

She followed him into the only restroom in the station. The first aid kit still hung in its usual place on the wall. Nothing had changed since the summers she’d worked there from high school through college.

And had broken her engagement to Alex.