Charlie All Night

5

“Hey.” Charlie sat next to her on the bed and propped his feet up. “Did you listen to the rest of the show?”

“Yes.” Allie rolled over and stretched a little to wake up. “Now I know why Bill hired you. You’re great.”

“Thank you.”

She squinted at him in the dim light from the window. He was dressed only in his sweatpants and he was holding a carton and chewing something. She struggled to sit up, and he reached over her and turned on the lamp, blinding her.

“What are you eating?” She shielded her eyes until they adjusted to the light.

“Sweet-and-sour pork. From some place called Mrs. McCarthy’s Chinese. Want some?”

“Yes. McCarthy’s has good stuff, but Joe won’t let me eat there.” Allie yawned and took the fork from him and poked it into the take-out carton. “He says it’s not authentic.”

Charlie snorted. “Sure it is. Authentic Irish-Chinese.”

Allie chewed the pork and then looked dubiously at the size of the carton. “Did you get anything else?”

“No. I didn’t know you’d be hungry, too. There’s plenty of this, though.” He took the fork and the carton back.

He looked great in the lamplight naked to the waist, his long legs stretched out on her bed. Allie hauled her mind back to the radio program and tried to make her voice noncommittal. “So what’s your next move here?”

Charlie grinned at her. “Well, I figure if I can get your nightgown off, the rest will be easy.”

Allie stomped down on the hot little thrill the thought evoked and looked at him with what she hoped was contempt.

Charlie said, “Joke. Sort of.”

She shook her head. “Not your next move on me, you dang fool. The city building. Give me the fork.”

“Ah, you liked Eb. So did I.” Charlie passed the carton over. “I may wander up north and meet him. My kind of guy”

“The city building,” Allie said around a mouthful of food.

“I think it should be saved, but I don’t particularly want to do it. Especially if it’s going to make people call me that much.” He shook his head. “Some mighty pissed people out there when they heard about the mayor’s brother. And the mayor didn’t do himself any good, calling in like that.” Charlie took the carton back. “I wonder if it’s true?”

Allie put her chin on his shoulder to look into the carton. He had great shoulders and Chinese food. At the moment, he was the perfect man. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Hurry up with the fork.” She reached around his arm, enjoying the slide of her skin on his, and took the carton from him after he’d taken a bite.

Charlie chewed and swallowed. “If it is true, the mayor’s an idiot.”

Allie snorted. “Do you have any doubts?”

Charlie recaptured his carton. “I don’t want to talk about the city building tomorrow night.”

Allie looked at him, half-naked in the lamplight, and felt a growing hunger for more than Chinese. No, she told herself. “You’re missing a great opportunity.”

“Screen the callers.”

Allie looked at him, dumbfounded. “You want me to tell them they can’t talk about the city building?”

“I don’t care what you tell them. Just don’t put them on the line with me.”

She looked at him in disgust. “You’re a wimp.” Okay, he was a sexy wimp, but he was still a wimp. She reached for the carton to distract herself. “Give me the fork.”

“It’s all gone.” He put the carton on the floor.

“I’m still hungry.”

Charlie grinned at her, and she forgot she was annoyed with him. After all, he’d done a great show. After all, he was Charlie. In her bed. Half-naked.

Turn back now, she told herself. Get out of this bed.

Charlie leaned toward her. “You’re always hungry. You’re the most orally fixated woman I’ve ever known. Not that I’m complaining.”

Oh, boy. Allie threw back the covers and started to get out of bed, and he caught her nightgown and pulled her back. “Where are you going?”

She pried her gown out of his fingers. “I’m hungry. Really. I feel empty.”

“No problem.” Charlie pulled her down on top of him, and she meant to push herself away, but he was so warm, she leaned into him instead. He felt wonderful under her. “Empty I can solve,” he told her. “And I’ll make sure you get to sleep, too. Eventually.” He kissed her neck.

She propped herself up on his chest and steeled herself to say no. “I thought we’d talked about this.”

Charlie stroked her cheek with his finger. “We did, but you look awful good rumpled. How about one more time? I’ll move out to the couch tomorrow, I swear.”

“This is not a good idea.” She pushed away from him and changed the subject to distract him. “You know, you have a great voice. I was concentrating on your body and your face before, and I didn’t really appreciate your voice until I heard you on the air. It’s incredible. I bet you were turning women on all over the city tonight.”

He tugged her back down to him, and she shivered when he said, “How’d I do with you?”

“Not bad.” She moved against his warmth. “Thanks for Patsy Cline.”

“My pleasure. Kiss me.”

Don’t do it, she told herself, but she kissed him, anyway, and his mouth moving softly on hers distracted her while he pulled her nightgown up and ran his hands over her naked back. She felt the heat start again, and she stretched against it.

What could one more night hurt?

She pulled the nightgown over her head, and his hands were on her instantly, cupping her breasts, making her draw a sharp breath. She touched him, too, then, stroking down his chest with her fingertips, over his sweatpants until she felt him shudder. He stripped off his pants, and she stroked him again, and she felt his fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hips as she moved to meet him. They tormented each other, touching and kissing and sliding together, gasping small laughs as they collided in heat until Allie thought she’d scream if he didn’t take her. “Now,” she said finally. “Please, now.”

“Wait a minute,” he said, and reached for the condom in his pants, and then he said, “Come here.” and pulled her over on top of him. “Stay on top of me this time. You’ll like it better.”

He was lovely and hot under her, and she stretched against him, forgetting her panic from the night before. “I wasn’t afraid of you,” she said against his mouth. “It wasn’t you.”

“I know.” Charlie’s hands smoothed over her. “You just don’t like being out of control.”

“Maybe.” Allie was distracted; he was moving under her now, pulling her hips up to his, spreading her thighs apart with his legs.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Charlie kissed her shoulder. “Just don’t wait too long, or I’ll lose my mind.”

Allie propped herself above him, dizzy with heat. “What do you want me to do?”

He pulled her closer. “Just ease yourself over me and make me the happiest man in this city.”

She laughed softly. “There are other guys in this city making love right now, you know.”

“Not with you.” He smiled up at her, and she wanted him so much she ached with it. “Allie, I want you so much.”

Allie blinked at him, surprised out of her own thoughts. “Me?”

He laughed softly. “Yes, you. Can’t you tell I’m interested?”

He was hard between her thighs, and she rocked a little against him and watched him close his eyes. “Yes,” she told him, laughing again at how easy he was to distract. “I can tell. But I thought for a guy, it didn’t make any difference who…”

His eyes snapped open. “You thought wrong.” His hands were suddenly tight on her waist, as if he were trying to make her listen harder. I’m going nuts right now only because I’m with you,” he told her, and she lost her breath at the intensity in his voice. “You make me crazy. I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He let his head sink into the pillow. “Now, will you please get a move on here? I’m not kidding about the crazy part.”

She took a deep breath and found him with her hand. He held her hips so tightly she knew she’d have fingerprint bruises the next day, but it was erotic to have his hands on her that hard. She guided herself over him and eased him a little way into her, carefully, tentatively. He felt wonderful, and her heart pounded and she felt her blood begin to rush and she stopped, trying to keep from lurching out of control.

Charlie made a sound way back in his throat, but he didn’t push.

She was doing it all.

“Oh,” she said and sank her hips down to his, and he felt so good that she moaned, and Charlie threw his head back on the pillow and bit his lip.

“Charlie,” she whispered.

“Don’t mind me,” he said through his teeth. “This is just ecstasy.”

Allie moved against him slowly, holding him hard inside her, feeling her skin heat, trying to keep her breathing slow as she watched his face. He wasn’t kidding. He was in ecstasy. And I’m doing this, she thought. She squeezed him with the muscles inside her and her heart pounded as she watched him suck in his breath. Then she moved her hips against his, and he moved to meet her, and her blood began to bubble. She licked her lips and breathed in and thought, God, I’m powerful. No wonder men love sex so much.

She eased herself up until she was sitting, straddling him until he was high inside her. He ran his hands up her body, cupping her breasts, and she leaned against his hands, relishing the pressure there and in the center of her body, and the prickling in her veins, and she began to move against him. She could feel the pressure growing, little flames of heat licking inside her as she rocked against him. The licking flames flared into a hot spiral, and she knew that it was going to explode, that she’d feel him everywhere, that she’d lose herself in him and be gone again, and she wanted it more than anything and still she clutched, just a little, as it began to go. Then Charlie arched up to hold her, dragging her down to his warmth, and she was wrapped safe in his arms as he moved convulsively inside her. “Come on, Allie,” he breathed in her ear, and she pressed herself hard down against him and then everything did explode in a kaleidoscope of surge and flame, and she rocked against him over and over, sobbing, until he cried out in his own climax.

She clutched at him until even the tiny aftershocks inside her were gone, and when they were both breathing again, Allie whispered, “I don’t want you to move to the couch,” and Charlie held her tightly and said, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Bill wants to see you,” Karen called to Charlie when he strolled in late the next afternoon.

“I bet he does.” Charlie stopped at the counter and grinned at her. “Did you bake cookies?”

“No, that’s Mrs. Wexman. She brings them in for Grady and he shares.”

Charlie bit into the cookie. Chocolate chip with pecans. “Good for Mrs. Wexman. What does Grady do to deserve this?”

“Drives her to chemotherapy.” Karen blinked up at him. “Grady does that a lot for the people his mom met while she was going through it. We get a lot of stuff in here because of it. You should taste Mrs. Winthrop’s almond cookies.”

“He drives Mrs. Winthrop, too?”

Karen nodded. “He helps out with other stuff, too. Mrs. Winthrop came in one day all upset about her grandson yelling at her, and I called Grady, and he told her not to worry, that he’d take care of it. The next day, she brought in a devil’s food cake.”

“That’s what I like, grateful women who bake.” Charlie peered over the counter. “Where’s Sam?”

Karen brought the basket up on the desk, and Charlie turned back the blanket to see Sam’s little black head. “How’s he doing?” He rubbed the puppy gently behind the ears, his broad index finger covering the back of Sam’s head by itself, and Sam moaned a little.

“I’m scared for him.” Karen sniffed. “He’s so little, and he’s not eating much, and-”

“I’ll pour the stuff down him tonight.” Charlie pulled the blanket back over Sam’s head. “He’s just getting the hang of it, that’s all.”

Karen caught his hand. “Charlie, this is so sweet of you.”

“No, it isn’t.” Charlie retrieved his hand and picked up another cookie. “You’d have to have a heart of stone to refuse to feed Sam.” He glanced at the clock behind her. “Which reminds me, I’ve got to go see Bill. Am I getting fired?”

“I doubt it.” Karen put Sam’s basket back under her desk. “But you’re gonna have to listen to some yelling.”

Charlie turned and almost fell over a stack of boxes next to the desk. “What’s this?”

“Bumper stickers,” Karen said. “Mark’s idea. They’re really popular. The college kids from Riverbend love them.”

Charlie frowned. “College kids listen to Mark?”

“No,” Karen said. “They just like the stickers.”

Charlie put his cookie down and pried open the top of the first box and pulled out a sticker. It was neon blue with a slash of orange lettering that said WBBB: Turn Us ON! He turned back to Karen. “You’re kidding.”

She shrugged. “Who knows from kids?”

Charlie started to laugh. She couldn’t be much older than twenty-five herself. “Well put, old lady,” he told her and she grinned back at him.

“At least I’m not going nuts for a dumb bumper sticker,” she said.

“Good point.” He folded the sticker and shoved it in his pocket as he turned for the hallway. “Now for the yelling. Wish me luck.”

“You won’t need it,” she called after him. “I heard your show. You were great.”

Terrific. Just what he needed. A fan. He was really going to have to get a grip on things or Allie would make him a star.

“Come in,” Bill yelled when Charlie tapped on his door. “Oh, it’s you.”

Charlie folded himself into the chair opposite the old man’s desk, ready to listen to a litany of his faults. It would be like old home week, his dad all over again.

Bill looked out at Charlie under bushy white eyebrows. “The papers are calling about that mess last night. Don’t talk to’em.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Believe me, if I’d had any idea-”

Bill flapped a hand at him. “I’m not blaming you. Alice already told me it was her fault.”

“Well, I was there, too,” Charlie said mildly. “The city building was my idea.”

“Yeah, but she called the mayor.”

Charlie blinked. This was news. He and Allie were going to have to have a much longer talk than they’d managed the night before. He thought about the night before and stirred in his chair. A much longer talk out of bed where she couldn’t distract him. He frowned at Bill, trying to bring his mind back to the problem. “She called the mayor?”

“Of course she called the mayor.” Bill scowled at him. “You think Rollie Whitcomb was up listening to your show that late? She called him.”

“It was only eleven,” Charlie said. “I thought he might stay up that late.”

“Only on poker nights.” Bill’s scowl deepened. “Which I won’t be going back to if you don’t stop stirring up trouble on the air. He wanted me to fire you, but I told him I couldn’t. Unbreakable contract.”

“We don’t have a contract.”

“Well, Rollie Whitcomb doesn’t know that. But you are going to shut your trap about the city building. I didn’t get you here to investigate political corruption. I got you here-”

“Wait a minute.” Charlie sat up slowly. “You’re going to pull the plug on this thing so you can play poker?”

“It’s politics, boy.” Bill leaned back in his chair, patriarchal as all get out. “You don’t understand-”

“Sure I do.” Charlie shook his head, “You and my dad. The get-along gang.”

Bill’s face turned dark. “Listen, boy-”

“No.” Charlie stood up. “I’m not going to shut up about corruption so you can play poker with the good old boys. I’m not going to bring it up, but if somebody calls in, I’m going to talk about it. Now, you can deal with that or you can fire me.”

“Sit down,” Bill roared and Charlie sighed and sat down and listened to Bill’s tirade, impervious from long practice of listening to his father. It was, in its volume and contempt, the same speech his father had given to him after Charlie had left business school-“I didn’t raise my sons to be losers”-after he’d left the Air Force-“Damn good connections in the military, but you just piss ’em all away”-after he’d sold the computer-consulting firm that had become too fast-track for him-“You coulda been the Bill Gates of Lawrenceville, but no, you don’t like the work”-and after any of thie half-dozen odd careers he’d wandered into and out of on the road since he’d left Lawrenceville four years before-“Bum.” Bill’s theme was more along the lines of “Too damn dumb to know your ass from your elbow,” but it was his father, all right.

This was what he got for doing favors for his father. His Father, Part Two. Blow Hard and Blow Harder.

“You understand me, boy?” Bill finished, his big white mustache quivering.

“Completely,” Charlie said. “Now, are you going to fire me or are you going to let me talk to people about this tonight?”

Bill sat back into his chair. “This is not what I brought you here for.”

“No,” Charlie agreed. “This is a freebie. And I’m not interested in being Tuttle’s favorite son, so it won’t happen again. But I’m not walking away from this, Bill.”

Bill stared off into space and tapped his fingers on the desk. “All right,” he said finally.

Charlie relaxed an iota. “Now, about what you brought me here for. I found out Waldo isn’t coming back. You didn’t mention he’d shot up the booth.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about Waldo.” Bill scowled. “I want to know that that letter was bull.”

Charlie sighed. “It’s going to take a little while. I’m starting at ground zero since you didn’t save the letter. I can imagine Allie doing damn near anything if she put her mind to it, but I can’t imagine her as a crook. And Joe-” He broke off. “Joe’s gay. Could that have been it?”

Bill waved the idea away. “Whole town knows Joe’s gay. That all you’ve come up with?”

“Well, Mark doesn’t seem to have the brains to break any law and get away with it, and Marcia’s more likely to spit in somebody’s face than sneak around, and Stewart doesn’t have the focus. Karen’s not the master-criminal type, although I suppose she’d make a nice dupe. You and Beattie have too much to lose. Unless Grady’s been faith healing or Harry’s been stealing car parts, I don’t see many potential criminals here. ’Course, I haven’t met everybody yet. I’ve only been here a day.”

“Well, keep working on it.”

Charlie sighed. “You know, it would have been a great help if you’d kept that letter.”

“It didn’t say that much.” Bill looked away. “Just that something was going on here that I didn’t know about. Some smart-ass, stirring up trouble. Couldn’t even spell.”

“That’s not much help.” Bill refused to meet his eyes and Charlie gave up. “All right, but I’m not making any guarantees. It’s probably nothing. And in the meantime, I have to learn radio.”

“That’s why I gave you Alice.” Bill finally looked back at him. “After I told everybody you were Ten, I had to, or you’d have died on the air and everybody would have known something was up.” He scowled at Charlie. “You owe me for that. I had to promise Mark a raise just to get him to give her up.”

Charlie blinked. “Mark didn’t fire her?”

Bill snorted. “Of course not. He’s not stupid. She’s the best damn producer in the business. But Lisa’s going to work out fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Great. Allie had lost her prime-time spot because of him. Somehow, he wasn’t anxious to share that with her.

Bill went on talking. “Just do what Alice tells you to do. And stop whining about the city building.”

“Why don’t you just give me a list of all the graft your friends are involved in,” Charlie suggested. “It’ll help me steer clear of those topics.”

“Very funny.” Bill leaned forward, and the power in his eyes was no joke. “You leave politics alone, you hear?”

Charlie met his eyes. “And tonight?”

Bill sighed. “Don’t bring it up. If somebody wants to talk, let ’em.” He swung his head from side to side like a grumpy bear. “It would look real bad if we shut down on it now, anyway. like we were covering up.”

“Well, that’s what I thought.” Charlie stood up.

Bill snorted.

“Right,” Charlie said.

Allie stood outside the office and waited for Charlie, afraid the city building was dead in the water as a show topic. Bill hated controversy-page six in the handbook-and Charlie wanted a nice, quiet little call-in show that nobody listened to. After last night, her general inclination was to give Charlie anything he wanted, but this was her career on the line. Maybe she could seduce him into talking about it on the air…

She gave the idea careful consideration and discarded it. Charlie would cheerfully cooperate with being seduced, but then he’d still refuse to talk about it. He was as stubborn as… well, as she was.

Then she heard Bill’s voice go up, and she put her ear to the door to try to make out the words he was calling Charlie a lot of names for somebody who was agreeing with him.

Harry went by as she listened. “Getting anything good?”

“Shut up,” she said. “I can’t hear.”

Harry went on and so did Bill, but in a minute Harry was back with his Lion King glass from the break room. “Try this.”

The glass helped significantly. “He’s yelling at Charlie about the city building,” she told Harry as a payback for the glass.

Harry snorted. “Oh, that’s a surprise. What’s Charlie saying?”

Allie frowned. “Nothing. Bill’s just raving.”

“Charlie must be stonewalling. Let me hear.” Allie passed the glass over to Harry and leaned against the wall to think. Charlie wasn’t telling Bill he was going to bury the story. So he was either doing it to twist Bill’s tail, which would be dumb but entirely in character for Charlie, or he’d decided to keep pursuing the scandal. She sighed and pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. That was really too much to hope for.

Karen came up behind them, basket in hand. “I thought you were in the booth,” she said to Harry, and he shushed her.

“Beattie’s doing the news,” he said. “She wanted to.” Then he went back to listening.

“Charlie still in there?” Karen asked Allie and she nodded, trying to press her ear to the sliver of door not blocked by Harry’s bulk. Maybe Charlie really was defending the city building; maybe they could run with it tonight.

Imagine the people who would call in.

Imagine the ratings.

“This about the city building?” Stewart said from behind Karen.

“Shh,” Karen said as she leaned around Allie. “What did he call Charlie?”

“A shit-for-brains moron,” Harry reported. “He called me that once. It means he’s winding down. Damn, he’s stopped yelling. I can’t hear.”

“Is he fired?” Stewart asked and all three of them turned to him and said, “No!” and then they all turned back to the door.

Allie pressed her ear to the door. “What’s going on?” She tugged on Harry’s sleeve. “They’re too quiet.”

Harry shook his head. “Something about Waldo. I missed it. He listened for a couple of minutes. “They’re talking too low.”

“Give me the glass.” Allie tugged again. The suspense was too great to bear. “Is Charlie saying he wants the city building on the show?”

Harry waved her away. “I told you, I can’t hear ’em. They’re talking low.”

The door opened suddenly, and Harry’s glass dropped like a stone in front of a surprised Charlie.

“Juice,” Harry told him, hefting the glass. “Juice break. The news is on and…” He backed away. “Juice.”

Karen smiled brightly. “The basket.” She held it up in front of Charlie. “I was just going to give Harry the basket.”

Allie met Charlie’s eyes and smiled brightly. “I was just leaving,” she said and turned back to her office.

“I was listening at the door,” she heard Stewart tell Charlie. “You gotta talk louder next time.”

“I’ll remember that,” Charlie said, and then she heard him coming after her. “You can run but you can’t hide, McGuffey,” he called after her. “We have things to discuss.”

Allie took a quick left turn to head for the booth and safety. “I have to talk to Harry,” she began, and then he caught her by the arm and dragged her back toward her office.

“Harry’s drinking juice,” he told her as he pulled her along. “You have to talk to me.

“You called the mayor,” Charlie said when they were alone in her office. He really was annoyed at her, but she was so obviously figuring out all the angles while he talked that he wanted to laugh instead. When Allie thought, he could see the wheels go round, she put so much energy into it. He pulled his mind back to the problem at hand. “You punched your ambitious little finger on the buttons and you called the mayor.”

Allie pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Well, I thought it was only right that he have a chance to respond to the allegations.”

“Bull.” Charlie leaned closer. “I do not want to be a star.”

“But you do want to save the city building,” Allie told him helpfully.

“As Bill would say, I don’t give a rat’s ass about the city building.” Charlie did his damnedest to look stern, hampered by the suspicion that he looked a lot like Bill and his dad. “Don’t do that again.”

Allie nodded, the picture of obedience, and he knew he was losing. “So you won’t talk about it tonight on the air, I guess.”

“Unless somebody calls in and mentions it.” Charlie narrowed his eyes at her. “They call us. We don’t call them.”

Allie nodded again. “No problem.”

“Fine.” Charlie looked at her suspiciously, but she smiled back, innocent. He gave up and pulled the bumper sticker out of his pocket. “Now that that’s settled, what is this?” He held the sticker up for her to see.

“A bumper sticker.” Allie sat down and began to shuffle papers.

“No, I mean what does it mean?” Charlie leaned on the desk. “Karen said these are really popular.”

Allie stopped shuffling and looked at him with palpable patience. “They are. Mark thought up the slogan-you know, turn on the radio-and everybody thought it was stupid, and then after we’d had them about a month, the high school and college kids started collecting them.” Allie shrugged. “As long as it keeps WBBB in front of the community, who cares what it means?”

Charlie folded the sticker up again and put it back in his pocket. “How long ago was this? That they got popular?”

Allie shrugged. “I don’t know. About a month maybe. A couple of weeks. Why?”

“It has occurred to you that they might be using it to refer to drugs.”

Allie looked at him with exasperation. “No, Charlie, that never occurred to me. Gee, what an idea. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got things to do before you go on tonight.”

“All right.” Charlie gave up and turned to go. “I mean it about those calls. You don’t call anybody. Ever again.”

“I’ll take care of everything.” Allie smiled at him again, and Charlie closed his eyes.

“Somehow, that does not reassure me,” he told her and then retreated back into the hall before he let her talk him into something he’d regret.

She was developing a real knack for that.

The calls started coming in before Harry went off the air, and Allie listened as Harry handled them with an intelligence that was eye-opening. Then right before the news, he said, “Well, I want to thank all of you who called in on the city building and remind you that Charlie Tenniel is up next, right after the news, and he’s the man to talk to about this mess. If anybody can save the city building, Charlie can, even if he has to work all night. Which, actually, he does. The news is next, folks, and then… Charlie All Night!”

Charlie frowned at Allie. “Charlie All Night?”

Allie shrugged, trying to look innocent. “Harry and I thought it was catchy.”

“Knock it off, Allie,” he said, and she batted her eyes at him, too happy with the way things were going to care if he was mad or not.

When he took the booth over, Allie met Harry coming out.

“You were good tonight,” she told him. “That was a nice intro for Charlie, but you were really good before that, too.”

“I thought you didn’t like the howling.”

“I hate the howling.” Allie folded her arms. “Why don’t you just talk like you did tonight to those people on the phone?”

“Because usually there aren’t any people on the phone.” Harry snorted, and Allie wasn’t sure whether his contempt was for her or for himself. “I’m not Charlie, honey. I don’t do that philosophical stuff.”

Fighting the urge to point out that Charlie had a way to go before he posed a major threat to Plato, Allie followed him out into the hall. “Harry, you don’t have to be Charlie. Just be yourself. I thought about this today. Talk about things you like… like… cars.”

Harry stopped so suddenly she bumped into him. “Cars?” He considered it and shook his head before ambling down the hall again. “Nah.”

“You could make it work, Harry.” Allie said, still pursuing him. “You know a lot about cars and stereos and guy things.”

Harry stopped again and Allie bumped into him again. “Guy things? Cut me a break.”

“Harry.” The exasperation in her voice must have gotten to him because he turned around. “You can do this,” she said slowly and distinctly. “I will help you.”

Harry shook his head at her. “If anybody could, you could, Al, but I don’t think so. I’m just not star material.”

“Yes, you are,” Allie said, but he turned away again. “Wait a minute.” She caught his arm. “How’s Sam?”

Harry shrugged again. “I got a little more formula down him. Not much. I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

“Oh, no,” Allie said and went back to the booth to see if she could tickle some more calories into the puppy.

By one, Charlie had logged twenty-one calls: sixteen in favor of the city building, three in favor of impeaching the mayor and two women in favor of dating Charlie when he got off work. He was pretty sure he’d contained the controversy, but he was also pretty sure that the mayor and his brother had just lost a ton of money thanks to him.

So much for laying low.

Allie waved to him through the studio window. “Do you need me to stay around?” she said into her mike.

She looked tired, so Charlie shook his head at her. “Just shut the phones down. Sam and I are going to take it easy for the rest of the night.” He tried to tickle the puppy into taking the bottle again, but it was no go.

He hated it, but they were going to lose him.

Allie came in to check on Sam before she left. “How is he?” she asked, but the tape was done, and Charlie set up the next triple play: Billy Joel, Garth Brooks and Tony Bennett. He listened to “River of Dreams” begin before he turned back to the Allie and the puppy.

“Not good.” He took off the headphones and put them on the counter next to the basket. “See?” He tickled the puppy’s chin and Sam moved his mouth weakly once. “I can’t get him to take much. Harry said the same thing. I don’t think he’s going to make it, Al.”

Allie lifted the tiny body out of the basket and put him on the counter to rub his stomach. “Maybe he’s too warm. Maybe it makes him lethargic.”

“He’s a puppy. He should probably be in an incubator.”

Sam began to move his legs feebly against the counter.

“He’s cold,” Charlie said, but Allie held the bottle to his mouth and Sam took it, making feeble sucking sounds, gulping down formula.

Charlie put his head down next to Sam, pushing the headphones away. “I’ll be damned. He’s taking it. No, wait, he’s stopped.”

“Wait a minute. Move your head.” Allie shoved his head away from the puppy and pulled the headphones back close, and Sam began to suck again, weakly, but with a good rhythm.

“I don’t believe it,” Charlie said. “He likes Billy.”

“Maybe it’s the beat.” Allie smiled down at the puppy. “Maybe it sounds like his mom’s heart or something.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s working.” Samson sucked on like a champ and Charlie sat back, more relieved than he’d realized. Maybe Sam would make it, after all.

Allie bent over the puppy, cooing encouragement. Her rump was right in front of him. Practically an invitation. He pulled her into his lap, careful not to knock the bottle out of her hand or out of Sam’s mouth, and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Her blue sweater was made of some kind of soft bubbly yarn, and she was warm against him, and he buried his face in the back of her neck and smelled the flowers in her shampoo. He spoke to her, mainly because he wanted to hear her voice. “How’s the show so far?”

“Terrific, as always.” Allie concentrated on Sam. “I can’t believe this. He’s drinking like a fraternity boy.”

“What do you mean, ’as always’” This is just the second time we did this.” Charlie tightened his arms at the thought.

“Well, we’re good.” Allie’s voice went cold. “He’s stopping. What’s wrong?”

Charlie reached around her for the headphones and listened. “He must not like ‘Friends in Low Places.’ It’s one of my favorites.”

“Well, play Billy again, for heaven’s sake.” Allie squirmed around on his lap, exasperated. “He drinks when you play Billy.”

Charlie swallowed and put the headphones back. “Stop moving around on me like that. It’s distracting.”

“Play Billy.” Allie’s voice brooked no disagreement.

“Burp him until this is done and then I’ll put Billy back on again,” Charlie said, surrendering. “Does is have to be ‘River of Dreams?”

“I don’t know.” Allie bent over the puppy, and Charlie let his hand trail down her back. “Better not mess with success. Play Billy.”

“Right,” Charlie said, and when Garth was done, he let Billy rip again, and Sam went back to the bottle like a trouper.

Good thing it was a good song.

By the third play-through, Sam had fallen asleep and was back in his basket.

“I bet if we put headphones on his basket, he’d do better.” Allie started to get up. “There’s a pair-”

“Wait a minute.” Charlie pulled her back into his lap, and when she turned to protest, he kissed her, wanting her softness against him and her mouth on his for just a moment. She relaxed against him, and he felt her tongue tease his mouth, and then he grinned and opened to her, cupping her breast hard in his hand while he bent her head back with the kiss and she wrapped her arms around him.

“Hello,” she said a few minutes later, coming up for air. “What was that for? I’m in favor of it, but what was that for?”

“That was for me,” Charlie told her, trying to get his breath back. “Go get those headphones now, or I’ll take you right here in the booth.”

“Oh.” Allie stayed where she was for a moment and then grinned when he didn’t move. “Talk’s cheap, Tenniel.”

He grabbed for her then but she slipped away from his hands, and he let her go because the song was over, and also because he had every intention of plying her with Chinese food later and of making love to her until she screamed.

“This is great,” Allie said at two-thirty as they split a double order of garlic chicken, eating from the carton with two forks this time. “The show was really good tonight, right up to the end. I knew you were going to be a hit, but I had no idea it would be this fast. And I haven’t even started on the publicity yet. This is wonderful.”

Charlie stabbed his fork into the chicken. “No, it’s not. I told you, I don’t want to be famous, so just knock it off.”

Allie gave an exasperated sigh. He really was impossible. It didn’t matter, because she was going to make him famous anyway, but he was still impossible. “What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you want to be a success?”

Charlie ignored her. “Dump some rice in here, the garlic’s really heavy.”

“I bet I know what’s wrong.” Allie tipped the rice carton into the chicken.

“I do, too. There’s not enough rice.”

“No, you’re afraid of success.” Allie patted his hand, suddenly sympathetic. After all, he had hit the big time pretty quickly. “It’s very common, you’ll get used to it. Trust me.”

Charlie moved the carton away from her, holding it behind him. “No, I won’t. Look at me.”

Allie obediently looked up at him, her fork poised in case he moved the carton back.

“I do not want to be successful,” he said, speaking slowly and distinctly. “Successful screws with people’s heads and makes them think they’re above the law and can get away with anything. I’m not like that. I am not going to promote the show. I am not going to have my picture taken. And I am not going to ask any more questions that will get me in trouble. I just want a nice, quiet show. I’m a nice, quiet guy, and I want a nice, quiet show. Is that too much to ask?” He glared at Allie and she glared back at him, annoyed that he could be so wimpy.

“No,” she snapped. “Certainly not. Anything I can do to help you on the road to obscurity?”

“Yes.” Charlie moved the carton back within her reach. ‘Give me something nonexplosive to talk about tomorrow. Something nice and innocuous.”

Allie stabbed her fork into the chicken. “Stewart drinks coffee from the break-room urn and doesn’t pay for it and then he blames the money shortage on the technicians.” She chomped down on her forkful of chicken and gazed balefully at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Well, that is fascinating, but I don’t think Greater Tuttle will be interested. Come on, cooperate. You’re my producer, produce. And move over. You’re hogging the bed.” Charlie shoved her over with his hip and looked into the carton. “Oh, there’s rice on the bottom. Maybe we should dump this stuff out on plates.”

“Whatever you want, Oh Great One.”

“I want another topic for tomorrow’s show,” Charlie said.

“Okay, how about…” Allie leaned over his shoulder and scooped up some more chicken, trying to think of something stupid for him. “Sometimes Grady does his show stoned.”

Charlie visibly corraled his patience. “I noticed. But I don’t think Tuttle will think that’s news, either. I need a real topic here. Stop sulking and give me some help.”

Allie shrugged. “Okay. The streetlights in Eastown are still out.”

“Allie…”

She waved her fork at him. “You said, innocuous.”

“Innocuous, not brain-dead.” Charlie took the carton back. “I will let you have more of this when you come up with something good. Something people will talk to me about, so I won’t get fired, but that does not involve newspaper headlines.”

Allie looked at the carton with longing. “It’s mean to keep moving the carton away. You know how I feel about food.”

“Then think fast.” He took a huge forkful of chicken and savored it while she watched.

“Food.” She moved closer to him with her fork. “You were all mopey about the little grocery stores going out of business when we took you on that tour the other night.”

Charlie moved the carton farther out of her way as he ate. “That’s the best you can do?”

Allie nodded. “You wanted boring. Do a nostalgia thing. All we have now all over town are those damn FoodStops. Fluorescent lighting and house brands that taste like dog food.” She eyed the carton. “I wonder if Samson would like Chinese? He was eating like a trooper when I left. Do you suppose anybody’s noticed we’re playing Billy Joel every hour?”

Charlie ignored her, lost in thought, and Allie grabbed the carton while he was distracted. “It doesn’t sound very exciting,” he said. “Maybe I’d do it.”

Allie shook her head and scooped up some more chicken. “You’re worthless. I could make you the biggest thing on midnight radio, but no, you want things quiet.” She passed the carton over to him in disgust.

Charlie took another huge forkful and handed the carton back. “Old-time grocery stores.” He chewed and then nodded. “All right. I’ll do it. You can have the rest of that.”

Allie poked her fork in the carton. “All that’s left is rice.”

“Too bad.” He took the carton out of her hands and put it on the floor with their forks. Then he sat back and put his arm around her. “Now what are we going to do?”

Allie folded her arms. “You know, we’re getting into a rut lere.”

“I know.” Charlie leaned over her. She slid down into the bed away from him, and he followed her down, pinning her to her pillow. “A little take-out Chinese, a little interesting conversation, a little great sex.” He slipped her nightgown off ler shoulder and kissed her neck. “My kind of rut.”

She savored his arm around her and his lips on her shoulder, but she kept her voice cool. “I have to get up and brush my teeth now. And then I think we should just sleep for once. We need some variety. This is getting boring.”

“Variety.” He moved his hand up her side, and she shivered. “Variety,” he went on. “Fine. Tomorrow, I’ll bring in a goat. But for tonight, I think we…”

Allie pulled away a little. “A goat?”

He blinked at her, surprised. “You’ve never done the goat trick?”

“The goat trick?” Allie blinked back at him. “Of course. I’ve done the goat trick. Thousands of times.”

Charlie sat up. “What? I didn’t think you were the kind of woman who’d do the goat trick thousands of times. I’m shocked.”

“You’ll get over it,” Allie said.

“I’m over it now.” Charlie moved back on top of her and kissed her, deep and long.

“Grocery stores are a dumb topic,” Allie said when she came up for air.

“Quiet, woman,” Charlie said and kissed her speechless.

Charlie’s next evening began well. As far as he could tell in his poking around the station during the day, there was absolutely nothing illegal going on. The closest thing he had to a clue was that the college kids collected “Turn Us On” stickers. As a lead to an in-station drug ring, it was pretty flimsy, about as likely as a lead to an in-station prostitution ring. Still, he’d checked out the bandstand Joe had talked about before and all he’d found were mosquitoes and mud. No drugs.

He was beginning to suspect that the letter had been a hoax. He was also beginning to suspect that Bill thought it was a hoax, too. At least, he didn’t seem to be particularly interested in how things were going. Beattie caught Charlie in the hall and grilled him on his living arrangements, his eating habits and his plans for his show, but Bill didn’t even ask him what he was doing about the letter.

It was all highly suspicious, and Charlie intended to pursue it, but first he had to get his radio act together so he didn’t make a fool of himself on the air. He shouldn’t have cared about that, but he did. He also found himself caring about the people at the station, with the exception of Mark, and feeling relieved as he became surer that he wasn’t going to have to bust anybody there. Joe combined the virtues of real friendship and great cooking, Karen was cheerful and extremely grateful, Grady was quiet and kind, Beattie looked at him with approval since she liked the city building and was now doing daily editorials on saving it, and even Bill seemed to be warming to him. At least he hadn’t called Charlie a moron again, even after the front-page story on the city building showed up in the Tuttle Tribune. Charlie particularly liked Harry, who, when not howling, was intelligent and, on this particular Thursday night, in a great mood.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Harry told him as soon as Charlie was in the booth. “Some woman called in and said she was having an argument with her boyfriend over leaving the car parked in neutral or in first, and asked my opinion.”

“That’s great,” Charlie said, confused.

“No, it was.” Harry’s face was lit with excitement. “I explained it to her, and then about five minutes later some guy called in to talk about it, and then a little later some other woman called in with a carburetor problem, and then a couple of other people, and it was great.” He leaned back in his chair, suffused with happiness. “I can’t believe it. People called my show.”

“Hey, if I had a car problem, I’d call you,” Charlie offered. “You know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, but now Tuttle knows. This has been great.” Harry got up and clapped Charlie on the back. “Really glad you’re here, man.”

“Oh.” Charlie blinked. “Well, I am, too.”

“Five people,” Harry stood up and stretched. “Great show.”

Charlie sat down in the vacated seat. The memory of the bumper stickers came back. Dumb idea, but… “Harry?”

Harry turned in the doorway.

“If you were going to buy drugs in Tuttle, where would you go?”

Harry’s face sobered instantly. “I don’t know. I hear the handstand’s the place to score.”

Charlie nodded. “I’d heard that, too, but it’s deserted most of the time.”

“Drugs’ll kill you in radio.” Harry said. “Bad for your voice. Hard to concentrate.”

“Right.” Charlie gave up and turned to the console.

“Charlie.”

He looked back over his shoulder at Harry.

“Don’t ask anybody else about the drug thing,” Harry told him seriously. “This isn’t that kind of place. People wouldn’t understand.”

Charlie nodded. “Right. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Harry hesitated and then left the booth.

Great. Now Harry thought he was a druggie. The things he did for his father and his father’s friends. Oh, well. At least he had the show. It was a weird thought, but after only two nights, he was beginning to look forward to the show. It was fun, but it was more than that. It made him feel good. He didn’t want to think about it too much because then he’d start cooperating with Allie, and he’d end up a star, after all.

That would be bad.

Of course, tonight’s show about old grocery stores should pretty much kill that possibility.

Charlie put on the headphones, made sure “River of Dreams” was in one of the CD slots for Sam’s dinner later, and watched the digital readout so he could slide in when the news was over.

Tonight was going to be one dull night on radio.

Four and a half hours later, Allie sat propped up against her headboard and watched as Charlie sat down on the side of the bed and buried his face in his hands. He really was upset, and she really did sympathize, but she really was ecstatic. Two scandals in three days. His ratings were going to go through the roof.

“Price-fixing,” Charlie said, his voice muffled by his hands.

“I didn’t know,” Allie said. “I swear, I didn’t know.”