A Man of Honor

by Cynthia Thomason

Brooke felt her jaw drop. “She what?”

  “Her critique was pretty accurate. He stunk, and I can’t help thinking that you weren’t even going to show it to me.”

  He was right. She wasn’t going to. Not until Jeremy had practiced a lot more and they’d made another, better test that Milt could compare it with. Oh, Cissy. Why did you do that?

  “You’ve got to get this right, Brooke. A lot is riding on Jeremy’s success.”

  As if Brooke didn’t already know that. Her job was riding on it. Jeremy’s new house, his lifestyle, his promises to his kids. Yes, there was a lot riding on this venture.

  “And you’ve got to show a little patience. Give me the time you promised me, Milt,” she said. “Jeremy won’t disappoint. He’ll practice. I’ll arrange more practice sessions. We’ll review. He’ll be ready.”

  “Okay,” Milt said. “But as long as we’re testing this guy, let’s see how he does on the interview circuit. He’s got to be able to talk to people face-to-face. I want him to interview the chief financial officer for Charleston on Wednesday. That’s tomorrow. I’ve already set up the appointment, and I had to cross hell and high water to get it. Davis has been keeping his head in the sand lately.”

  This was not good news. It was rumored that the CFO was skimming funds from the top bids of contractors. Nothing had been proven yet, but a cloud of suspicion was hanging heavily over the entire department’s head. “With regard to what?” she asked.

  “With regard to the funds being misused on the city bridge projects. I want to know what this guy, Davis, is up to. The citizens of Charleston deserve to know. There will be an election soon, and Davis has hinted that he’ll be running for mayor.”

  Oh, great, investigative reporting of the most difficult kind. Milt wanted Jeremy to flex his muscles in front of the city’s second most important official and get answers? Brooke didn’t know if Jeremy was up to the task. And besides, the assignment was not fair. Jeremy wasn’t hired to be an investigative reporter. He was hired to be the front man, the face of WJQC. “I’d rather you wouldn’t send Jeremy on this assignment,” she said.

  “I’m sure you do, but I want to see if he’s got the right stuff to handle a tough interview. If he has it, then nothing around here should stop him. I’ll send you and Jeremy and a cameraman to city hall tomorrow,” Milt continued. “Let’s see what Jeremy can discover. I hope it’s the lead story for Fred that night.”

  Brooke didn’t see a way out of this latest demand. Milt needed to find confidence in his choice for anchor some way, and now he’d decided to test Jeremy’s prowess at digging deep into Charleston politics. Well, maybe this could work, she thought. If Jeremy proved himself at city hall, maybe the poor performance on tape would be forgotten.

  “I’ll expect you to provide Jeremy with thought-provoking questions,” Milt said. “And prepare him to face off with the CFO if it comes down to that. Let him know he can’t pussyfoot around with his questions. Good grief, Brooke, the man was the toughest offensive end in professional football for years. Surely he can handle a schmuck like Davis.”

  “I’m certain he can,” Brooke said. “I’ll have him ready tomorrow.” Tomorrow? Talk about pressure!

  “See that you do. If you and Jeremy can break this story, our ratings will go way up.”

  Brooke left Milt’s office with a mix of emotions. This could be the assignment that would endear Jeremy to Milt for a long time and secure all their futures. Especially if Jeremy ended up with a scoop none of the other stations had. But Jeremy would have to play true hardball at the CFO’s office. He’d have to ask leading questions and provoke Davis into giving answers.

  He could do it, she told herself. Jeremy’s rough-and-tumble background was just what was needed to get the truth from a politician who might be skimming funds. Jeremy would be direct and forceful. This would be a piece of cake for a man whose gut instinct was to do the right thing. Wouldn’t it?

  * * *

  JEREMY HAD BEEN busy all day listening to various reporters on WJQC. He practiced his own voice modulation and tried to implement the techniques Brooke had given him. Once he felt more confident about his progress, he would concentrate on camera operation, sound systems and technical glitches that happen no matter how much care is taken to avoid them. He finally caught up with Brooke early in the afternoon when he walked by her office.

  “Hello, gorgeous lady,” he said, stepping inside.

  Brooke laughed and played with the tousled blond hair that waved around her shoulders. Okay, she didn’t look as put together as usual, but the word gorgeous still applied.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said. “Have you had as busy a day as I’ve had? If so, you look much better than I do.”

  “Not possible. But yeah, I’ve had a busy day.” He parked himself on the edge of her desk and frowned down at the pile of papers still on her blotter. “Let’s get out of here and go to Pickler’s for a drink.”

  “I’d love to,” she said, “but give me a few minutes to clean this up. You go on over and I’ll meet you there.”

  He stood and headed for the door. “See you there.” Walking the couple of blocks to the pub, Jeremy was aware of the warmth in his heart and an outlook on life that had taken a decidedly upward turn. Maybe he was being corny, but Brooke Montgomery was making him a happy man. He might even have burst into song if he didn’t think he’d frighten everyone on the street.

  A little more than three weeks. That’s as long as he’d known Brooke, but every day he felt he’d gotten closer to her, and every day he’d begun to think of a future with her. Sure, they had some problems to overcome. She was a city girl. He loved his life in the Lowcountry hammock. He had kids, and he still wasn’t quite sure how Brooke felt about that, but Cody had become one of her biggest fans, and Alicia would come around. And he still had to convince Brooke that the woman he’d been with for so many years was now gone, and he was ready to start over. Jeremy was confident he had some skills he could use to prove himself to Brooke, ones she didn’t seem to mind. Another reason to smile.

  In fact, just thinking of kissing Brooke, holding her in his arms, made a silly grin seem appropriate. Who would have thought it, Crockett? he thought to himself. That you could fall so hard so fast. But he had. Or he was. Or he soon would. Whatever the path, he was ready to take it.

  Jeremy took their usual table in the bar, next to the window, and waited for Brooke to come. She walked in after about a half hour. They’d have to order their drinks right away. Jeremy had promised Marta he’d be home in time for her to catch a seven-thirty movie.

  When the waitress brought their drinks, Brooke took a sip and suddenly turned serious.

  “Something on your mind?” he asked her.

  “Yes, there is. I had a meeting with Milt today.”

  “Not bad news, I hope.”

  “No, not bad. But he wants you to spread your anchor wings a bit and venture into new territory.”

  Jeremy frowned. Was Milt thinking of moving him to another area of production? Had Milt seen that tape that, according to Brooke, was less than satisfactory? “What kind of new territory?”

  “He wants you to get the experience of handling an interview—actually an investigative-reporting assignment.”

  Jeremy relaxed. That was okay. He’d witnessed lots of interviews in his playing days. He’d been interviewed more times than he could remember. Some of those interviews still pained him since they’d involved some bonehead mistakes he’d made on the field. He could manage this new idea of Milt’s. “So who do I get to interview?” he asked Brooke.

  She told him about some rumors flying around city hall, the possibility of money mismanagement. “I know that Fred will be reporting this story,” she said. “But Milt wants you to know how a serious news item like this makes it to air. He thinks you’ll be perfect in a match with Kirby Davis, the city’s ch
ief financial officer. I’ll prepare questions for you, and we’ll have a cameraman present.”

  “I don’t know much about the CFO,” Jeremy said. “Just that his name is Davis, and he’s eyeing the mayor’s office.”

  “That’s true,” Brooke said. “But some people believe he’s become the most powerful man in Charleston. People who hold the purse strings often are.”

  “Do you know if the rumors about him are true?”

  “I don’t, but Milt seems to think they are, and he’s excited about a matchup between you and Davis. He wants you to flex your muscles on this one, Jeremy. Pull out all the stops.”

  Somewhere in his core, a tingle began and it spread to his suddenly pounding heart. This was real news. This was finding it, uncovering it, leading it in the right direction. He was suddenly jacked about the whole idea. Imagine him exposing an ethical problem in the mayor’s office.

  He agreed immediately and even told Brooke he would be looking forward to the next afternoon.

  “That’s great,” she said, obviously relieved that he reacted the way he had. Did she think he’d turn down an opportunity this great? That ladder to the anchor’s desk, which had seemed to reach the clouds, was now just a bit shorter.

  “And afterward I hope you’ll go out with me to Hidden Oaks,” he said. “It’s pizza-and-board-game night at my house. Cody wants you to come. Not as much as I do, but a lot.”

  “That’s sweet. But what about Alicia?”

  “She didn’t object,” Jeremy said. “Let’s take our victories when we can get them.”

  He paid the bill and walked Brooke to her car. The long, lingering kiss in the garage was the capper on an already great day.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  NO ONE IN the station seemed to know about the big interview scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. Milt had obviously wanted to keep his scoop private...from everyone. But Jeremy and Brooke were ready. When they met Kirby Davis, they would lead with some general questions and then move in with the ones that should get to the bottom of whatever corruption was going on in the city center.

  Jeremy arrived in a spectacular dark blue suit that fit him perfectly. His white shirt and red-and-blue tie gave him an all-American look that would do well on camera. Plus, he told Brooke he’d been practicing his voice modulation.

  As time approached for the small crew of three to leave for city hall, Cissy swept into Brooke’s office. “What’s going on?” she asked, her antennae focused, as usual, on any hints of private maneuvering.

  “Nothing,” Brooke replied, glancing at her watch. “Today has been as blessedly quiet as possible.”

  Cissy shook her head, narrowed her eyes. “Okay. So why is Legs dressed to kill? Why is your desk clean at two thirty in the afternoon? Why has Milt kept to his office all day?”

  “I can’t answer all your questions, Cissy, but as for me, I have an appointment this afternoon and have to leave early. And regarding Jeremy, maybe he just wants to look more the part of an anchor, so he’s dressing up a bit.”

  Cissy sputtered an uncomplimentary laugh. “As if a new set of clothes will help. He still stinks on camera.”

  Brooke had had it with Cissy’s constant demeaning of Jeremy’s efforts. “Speaking of that,” she said. “I didn’t appreciate you showing the tape to Milt.”

  Cissy pretended a wounded expression. “It wasn’t a secret, was it? I mean, everything Jeremy does reflects on all of us. Milt should know where his golden boy stands as an anchor for WJQC.”

  “He knows,” Brooke said. “And your going to him in private with that tape only undercut Jeremy’s attempts to do a good job. He was still untrained and raw on that tape. It was just to be a learning tool.”

  Cissy cupped her hand over her mouth and stared hard at Brooke before she said, “Something’s going on with you, Brooke. I thought we agreed that one of us should be WJQC’s new anchor? Have you completely forgotten about that?”

  “We never did agree, Cissy. I’m happy as producer.”

  “Well, I’m not happy as a lowly copywriter, and I still believe that auditions should have been open to all long-standing employees at the station.” She plopped into a chair even though Brooke was clearly giving signs that she had to leave. “I don’t kid myself, Brooke,” she said. “I know you would make a better anchor than I would. You deserve it. You know more. You’ve been here longer. I appreciate the ethics of working up the ladder.”

  Brooke sighed. “Being here isn’t the main qualification for anchor, Cissy. I could have been here fifty years, but it wouldn’t mean that I would connect with the viewing audience.”

  “Of course you would,” Cissy insisted. “I know you don’t like it when I flatter you—”

  No, I don’t.

  “—but we’re friends. And hey, look in a mirror. That blond hair, those intense, honest blue eyes, that figure meant for a marble statue.” Cissy chuckled. “Why, the good ol’ boys in Charleston would be missing their early-bird dinners just to see the five o’clock news. And I’d be right beside you on the road to the top.”

  “Stop it, Cissy,” Brooke said. “Jeremy is going to be our anchor. Deal with it.”

  Cissy shook her head. “Seems like I want what’s good for you even if you don’t. Who knows where we—I mean you—could end up if you used WJQC as a stepping stone. You could go on to any of the big cable networks. Let me tell you—” she stopped long enough to take a breath “—I wouldn’t turn down a chance to be famous.”

  “Good, then go be famous. I just don’t see it happening at WJQC.” Brooke stood, grabbed her briefcase and jacket. “I’ve got to leave now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Hope your appointment isn’t anything serious. Are you going to a doctor?”

  Brooke did a quick ten count in her head. “No, I’m fine. This has nothing to do with doctors. Please close my office door when you leave.”

  She hurried past Jeremy’s office, stuck her head inside and said, “Leave a few minutes after me. I’ll meet you in the garage.”

  He smiled. “Why? Are we being stalked?”

  “Something like that.”

  * * *

  NERVES FINALLY CAUGHT UP with Jeremy on the ride to city hall. Despite playing pro football for a decade, he wasn’t a confrontational person on any other level. But he’d always thought of himself as a moral one, and if deeds in the city center needed to be exposed, he wasn’t opposed to being the one to do it.

  “Last check,” Brooke said as they pulled into the city hall’s parking garage. “You have your questions?”

  “You know I do. I have a little cheat sheet, and besides, I’ve memorized them. Start with the friendly stuff first and then go in for the hit.” He hoped the smile he gave her was full of confidence. “By the time we get to the nitty-gritty, Mr. Davis and I should be good buddies.”

  The cameraman chose a parking spot and got out to retrieve his equipment from the trunk. “This is it,” Brooke said. “You’re not nervous?”

  Well, yeah, he was, but he said, “No. I’m fine. Quit worrying. Anyone would think Milt was grading you on this performance and not me.”

  She gave him a strange look. “Don’t be silly. Why would Milt care about anyone but you?”

  Jeremy shrugged and held the car door for her. The trio took the elevator to the third floor, where they were scheduled to meet with Kirby Davis. The room they entered was sparsely furnished with a couple of desks, a few straight-back chairs and some professional lighting. A typical interview room.

  An efficient-looking middle-aged woman sat at a desk right inside the door. “You must be the WJQC crew,” she said. “We’re expecting you. Mr. Davis will be in shortly. He knows you’re coming.” Nodding to the cameraman, she said, “Why don’t you set up? You’re welcome to use any of our lights. Naturally, we want our personnel to look their best, and our ligh
ts are very flattering. Also, we generally use a backdrop of the cityscape for filming.”

  Jeremy glanced at the large photograph of downtown Charleston on the wall. Viewers might think they were filming in front of a picture window, when really the photo captured the outside world. Smoke and mirrors, and air-conditioned comfort, he thought. Whatever worked.

  The cameraman carried two chairs and placed them in front of the mural. “You’ll be here, Jeremy,” he said. “The mayor will sit opposite. We’ve always figured there was a position of power in being on the right side.”

  “Anything you say, Nate.”

  “We’re ready,” Nate told the woman at the desk. She picked up a phone and punched in a couple of numbers. A few minutes later a tall, formidable-looking man came into the room. His gray hair was neatly groomed. His face was tanned, as if he’d spent time in the sun. The three-piece suit he wore was stylish. However, from the expression on his face, it seemed like he was uncomfortable, and Jeremy felt a sudden pang of sympathy. Interviews could be difficult for some people, but if this guy was longing to be mayor, he’d better get used to them.

  And then the man came closer, and Jeremy’s heart slammed against his chest. It couldn’t be. There was no mistaking the wrinkles around the eyes, the cool gray of his gaze, the firm set of his lips. This man, the second-most powerful guy in Charleston, was as familiar to Jeremy as he’d wished his own father had been.

  “Tug? Is that you?” Jeremy said, his voice breathless, his words a hoarse whisper.

  The man stared at Jeremy. “Crockett! I don’t believe what I’m seeing.” Davis shook Jeremy’s hand and brought him in for a hug. “Hot dang, son, aren’t you a sight for these sore eyes.”

  Jeremy stepped back. “What’s going on, Tug? What are you doing in city hall?” And then he remembered Tug’s last name. Davis. No one at U of Bellingsworth had known him as anything other than Tug. “Get out of here, Tug. You’re the chief financial officer?”

  Davis grinned. “Guilty as charged. Duly sworn in.” He smoothed his hands down his lapels. “Who woulda thought it, eh, boy? Looks like my accounting degree finally paid off.”