Ten Years Later

by Lisa Marie Latino

  “Mr. Murillo and Mr. Benioff went to college together and have remained friends. Mr. Murillo introduced me to him this morning, and they both listened to my demo tape. Mr. Murillo loved it, and I’m assuming you want to talk to me about what Mr. Benioff thought.”

  “That’s correct,” Dan nodded.

  “Right, so….” He wasn’t taking the verbal cue, and kept on nodding! Was he on drugs?

  I couldn’t take it anymore. “Dan!” I snapped. “What did Mr. Benioff say?”

  “Oh right,” he answered, coming to. “Well, what I’m about to offer you is kind of a unique deal.”

  “Ok…” My chest started tightening up.

  “Benioff thinks you are good. Not great, but good enough to deserve a shot…”

  Backhanded compliment aside, I almost jumped out of my seat. I’M GETTING A SHOT!

  “…but on a couple of conditions.”

  “Okay!” I chirped, not really caring what those conditions were.

  “For starters, I would require you to continue producing Tommy and Ruby’s show. You work well together, and I don’t want to break up that core.”

  We work well together? What planet was he on? “I appreciate that you recognize that,” I lied. “Balancing my hosting duties with my production responsibilities is a challenge I am certainly up for.”

  “I’m glad to hear that passion in your voice…because unfortunately, we don’t have much in the budget to compensate you for the added workload.”

  Bullshit. “Okay…how much?”

  “Five-hundred dollars.”

  “A show?”

  “No, per pay period…a grand a month extra.”

  I just shook my head. I know I had no negotiating leg to stand on, but this was a slap in the face. WSPS took in MILLIONS, yet they couldn’t properly afford to cover the scope of my work?

  “Also, you will have a co-host,” Dan continued.

  I started to grow very uneasy. “Who?”

  A small smile crept up on Dan’s face. “Dante Ezra.”

  I couldn’t move my mouth to speak. I was frozen in horror.

  “I have to co-host with Dante?” I finally whispered.

  “Carla, you just aren’t ready to carry your own show,” Dan sneered. “I think you can learn a lot from him.”

  “Learn from HIM?” I shouted a little too loudly. “I’ve worked in this environment for years. If anything, he could learn a thing or two from me!”

  “It will be a good pairing,” Dan assured.

  I conceded. There was no use in fighting, and as shitty as this was, I didn’t want cause a scene and have Dan reconsider altogether. I thanked him, accepted the offer, and graciously exited his office.

  I spent the ride home in quiet disbelief. Since I was seven years old, all I ever wanted was to be a sports radio host on WSPS. My persistence and hard work were finally going to be rewarded thanks to my media guardian angel, Mr. Murillo. However, I never imagined that my call up to the major leagues would be wrought with backhanded compliments, a paltry salary and personal turmoil.

  Maybe I should have told Dan no. As it was, I didn’t have time for myself; what was I thinking by agreeing to add more to my plate? (Goodbye precious sleep and the gym regimen I never resumed.) And shouldn’t my wallet be seeing a much bigger benefit from all the additional work? (See you later, condo overlooking the New York City skyline.) And what kind of mind-altering drugs were slipped in my water bottle when I gave Dan the green light to pair me with Dante? (Sanity, I never knew ya.) My former friend was all but dead to me, and now I had to face his resurrected ghost with thousands of people eavesdropping in.

  And then there was Ruby. If Ruby was utterly intolerable before, she was going to be a downright beast now that I’m an official peer of hers.

  I shook my head. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not at all.

  18

  “It’s about time something good happened to this family!” Mom exclaimed.

  “They should be paying you more,” Dad, the staunch businessman, countered.

  “My son is settled, now my daughter is on her way!”

  “That stupid radio station makes so much money, and they couldn’t pay you more?”

  “Maybe I can finally have peace in my life!”

  “I’m proud of you, but you should have demanded more.”

  About twenty minutes earlier, I came home and broke the news to my family. I was only half-paying attention to their (very predictable) reactions; I was too busy replaying the conversation with Dan in my head…

  “What’s your boss’s number? I’ll call him and straighten this out,” Dad threatened.

  “Oh stop it, James,” Mom replied. “She’s almost thirty years old; she can take care of herself.”

  Ding dong. Saved by the bell!

  “Who could that be at this hour?” Mom asked.

  “I’ll get it,” I offered, dashing towards the foyer.

  Ding dong! Ding dong!

  I opened the door and was hit in the face by a bunch of shiny helium balloons.

  “What the hell…” I muttered as I pushed them to the side.

  Standing at the door was the whole clan—Andrea and Xander, each carrying a bundled-up baby; Katie, holding a covered up something or other; and Vin Diesel’s Irish twin brother, who I assumed was Katie’s new boyfriend, Teddy. It was below freezing outside, but he was dressed like it was the dead of summer. He had on a short-sleeved gray t-shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and crazy body art, jeans and nothing covering his bald head. The bundle of pastel colored strings he was holding clashed with his macho man persona.

  “Congratulations!” the girls shrieked in unison.

  “How did you know?” I asked even though I knew the answer already.

  “Dante told us the good news!” Katie chirped.

  “I can’t believe you wouldn’t call us the second you heard,” Andrea added.

  “You’ve only been waiting for this opportunity your whole life!” Katie continued.

  “You’ll be on the air before the reunion…”

  “…AND you have no choice but to make up with Dante!”

  “Yes, it’s all wonderful,” I replied sarcastically. “It’s freezing, come inside.”

  As everyone filed in, I introduced myself to Teddy. “Hi, I’m Carla, and why the hell are you not wearing a jacket right now?”

  “It’s not that bad,” Teddy shrugged, handing me the balloons. “I’m Teddy.”

  “I figured. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard many great things.”

  “He’s the best,” Katie boasted, snuggling up against him. He tenderly kissed her forehead.

  I quickly turned away. I was not in the mood to tolerate much, least of all romance.

  “Hello, I’m Xander. Do you remember me, your long lost gym buddy?” Xander joked, giving me a hug.

  “She won’t be long-lost now. She’s in the spotlight; she needs to get in shape!” Andrea laughed.

  I sighed. “Let’s go in the kitchen, I’ll fill you all in.”

  My father had disappeared, but my mother was still sitting at the kitchen table, feverishly tapping away on her cell phone.

  “Who are you texting?” I asked, tying the balloons to the back of her chair.

  “I’m just spreading the good news,” she replied happily, without looking up.

  Everyone started sitting down around her. Teddy and Xander, being newbies to the situation, chose seats closest to my mom. Mom was in another world until Teddy caught her eye, and she stared at him with the same bewilderment one has when viewing gigantic zoo creatures.

  Katie unveiled her latest creation, a poppy seed lemon cake. I gamely fetched some plates and utensils, sat down, and let out a big sigh.

  Andrea and Katie exchanged worried looks. “I thought you would be happier,” Katie commented as she cut her cake.

  “Is this about Dante?” Andrea added.

  Before I had a chance to answer, Mom chime
d in. “Stop being a spoiled brat. You are never happy.”

  How quickly our dynamic can change. “You know you can leave,” I snapped.

  Mom rose out of her chair. “Do yourselves all a favor,” she addressed my friends. “Don’t have kids.”

  “It’s kind of too late for that, Mrs. D’Agostino,” Andrea laughed, rocking Nadia in her arms.

  “Well, you’re an IDIOT!” Mom sneered, and stormed out of the kitchen.

  Teddy and Xander shared puzzled expressions.

  “Welcome to my life.” I shrugged. Katie stifled a laugh as she passed around the plates of cake, which Andrea and Xander (of course) refused.

  “Ok, enough of this…what the hell is going on?” Andrea demanded.

  “Although I’ll be co-hosting with Dante”—my stomach did a flip-flop saying those words out loud—“I still have to produce Tommy and Ruby’s show. My only day off will be Sunday. So it’s a lot more work, not a lot more money, and a ton more bullshit.”

  “That sucks that you still have to deal with Ruby,” Katie replied in between bites.

  “I think the whole deal sucks,” Andrea countered.

  “My support system, ladies and gentlemen,” I announced sarcastically to the men, stabbing the cake with my fork.

  “At least you’ll be on the radio, that’s pretty awesome,” Xander said.

  “I agree. I listen to W-S-P-S all the time; it’s going to be cool to know someone on there!” Teddy exclaimed, giving his plate to Katie for piece of cake number two.

  “Can you get free Giants tickets?” Xander added.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but Andrea cut me off. “When you finally get a boyfriend, how is having only one day off going to work?”

  “I’ll worry about it when the time comes, which will be never,” I wryly answered.

  “You don’t have a boyfriend?” Teddy asked incredulously.

  I glared at Katie. How did she not give her love the 4-1-1?

  “Carla’s hit a bit of a dry spell,” Katie quickly responded. “But she’ll be off the market soon.”

  I snickered. “Is that right, Nostradamus?”

  “Everything is starting to fall into place for you. Today is only the beginning. Mark my words.”

  ■ ■ ■

  About a half-hour later, everyone filtered out. My mother, hungry to gossip, came back downstairs to help clean up the kitchen. “Where did Katie find that guy?” she asked as she filed the dishes in the dishwasher.

  “He’s a cop in town. He seems nice,” I replied while wiping down the table.

  “He’s scary looking through.”

  “Stop, he’s fine.”

  “Carla, he’s got a tattoo of a snake crawling out of a skull’s eye socket covering his forearm. He’s going to chase Katie’s customers away!”

  “Whatever, I’m not dating him.”

  “I don’t even want to imagine!”

  I dragged my feet over to the sink and draped the cloth over the drying rack. “I’m going to bed,” I yawned.

  “Ok honey,” Mom said while she started the dishwasher. Spontaneously, she wrapped her arms tightly around me.

  “You’re…squishing…me,” I breathed.

  “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered.

  I smiled at the rare display of affection. “Thanks, Mom.”

  ■ ■ ■

  After the day I had, I expected to pass out the second my head hit the pillow. But ten minutes to midnight, I was still wide awake. Dante had the wherewithal to contact our friends, but didn’t even bother to contact me? I should have been the first call he made, not only to congratulate me but to help come up with a game plan for our premiere show, debuting in four nights. That was what a responsible person would have done anyway. This poor sportsmanship was just another example of the conspiracy theory-believing egomaniac my former friend had become. That being said…should I be the bigger person and break the ice?

  I sighed. “Fiiiiiine,” I said out loud, throwing the crochet wool blanket knitted by Grandma Theresa off my body. I grabbed my iPhone and started pacing the room. “I hope I still have his number,” I muttered as I browsed through my contacts. Knowing me, I had probably deleted his name off my phone in a fit of blackout rage. “Never mind, here it is. Shocking.”

  As the phone rang, I tried to figure out how to play the conversation. Should my tone be sweet? Confrontational? Non-committal?

  On the fifth ring, he picked up. “Hello?” Dante answered wearily.

  “Hello, Dante.”

  “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

  “Well you know, I’ve had kind of a big day. The adrenaline hasn’t worn off. Thank you for your congratulatory words, by the way. They meant so much to me. What were they again?”

  “I bet you are excited.”

  “And I bet you are not.”

  “What do you mean? It will be an honor to share my show with a ray of sunshine like yourself.”

  “Our show,” I corrected.

  “Our show,” Dante repeated.

  “Look, we may not like each other very much, but I don’t want our bad blood to spill out over the air.”

  “I concur.”

  “So we go in the studio, do our thing, and that’s it.”

  “That’s it,” Dante repeated.

  “There will be no carpooling to the station. We will not be hanging out off the air. If we do speak, it is to be about work only.”

  “Fine by me.”

  “Ok then.”

  “Anything else?”

  I paused. “Yes—let’s not fuck it up.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Dante huffed. “Concentrate on yourself.”

  “I can handle it. See you Friday night.”

  “See ya.”

  I climbed back into bed, feeling more uneasy than before. That call had done absolutely nothing to calm my fears. The universe has been giving me signs for years that I was treading the wrong path. Due to my inherent stubbornness, I refused to yield to the warnings and in turn, royally pissed off the gods. Tired of being ignored, Mother Nature decided to shake up my world in such a terrifying way that I had no choice but to take notice and finally break away from this dead-end life. How else could you explain this latest turn of events?

  Well, I was now paying attention. This show was going to be an absolute, utter disaster. What had I gotten myself into?

  19

  Day 171

  It figured that tonight was the night God had planned to call me up to be His indentured servant. At least He didn’t bestow a long, drawn-out illness on me, for by the time my car rammed into the walls of the Holland Tunnel and burst into a fireball, a massive heart attack would have already taken my life.

  My obituary will read:

  Carla Catherine D’Agostino, 27, died on Friday, January 6, 2017, at New York Downtown Hospital. Carla was born and raised in Honey Crest, New Jersey, and spent the duration of her life living at her parents’ home. Carla was a graduate of Honey Crest High School and obtained a degree in Broadcast Journalism at New Jersey University, managing to stay a virgin throughout that whole time (a Guinness world record). After finishing school in 2007, besides breaking the longest sexless streak in history, she started working as a producer at WSPS Sports Radio 950 AM New York. On the day she died, she was driving to the radio station to start her dream job, serving as a sports talk radio host. But it was not meant to be.

  “My daughter died a loser!” An unnamed source wailed to the Honey Crest Express staff.

  Carla is survived by her parents, Nancy and James D’Agostino, Sr.; her brother James D’Agostino, Jr. and his fiancé, Gwendolyn Carrington, and a large extended family. Carla had few good friends and passed away having no significant other.

  The prospect of making my on-air debut was already giving me enough agita; not mapping out the first show with my co-host was putting me into a full-blown panic attack.

  Every time there was a surprising score or a breaking story, my first imp
ulse was to pick up my cell phone to contact Dante. But as quickly as the urge hit, it left. I’m the one who initially reached out to him; wasn’t it his turn?

  To his credit, our sweet-faced, newbie producer, Rusty, had been in constant contact with Dante and me all week. He earnestly kept us abreast of the guests he’d managed to book for our graveyard-shift show…compiled talking points…forwarded relevant articles…all the stuff that a good producer is supposed to do. I gamely “replied all” with my comments, with nary a word from Dante. Knowing him, he hasn’t bothered to check his messages; he never was one for homework. Poor Rusty has no idea what he’s in for.

  Neither did I.

  My nerves were shot for another reason—the massive amount of texts, e-mails, and social media messages I’ve received from family, friends, stalkers, and past and present work colleagues:

  “Break a leg tonight, Carla!” (and other such stereo typical clichés).

  “This night must be so special for you! You’ve wanted to do this since you were a little girl and you’re finally doing it!” (Thanks for the reminder, people.)

  “Wow…really? Don’t mess this up!” (Why even bother messaging me?)

  “Why couldn’t they put you on earlier? These shows are going to mess up my sleep schedule.” (Guess who?)

  Don’t get me wrong, I was appreciative of everyone taking such an interest in my career (authentic or otherwise), but I didn’t need the pressure of knowing everyone’s ears were listening.

  One person who surprisingly didn’t chime in with her two cents was Ruby Smith. I thought she was going to make my life more miserable than she already did, but this week was nothing out of the standard, obnoxious ordinary.

  Surprisingly, I pulled into the parking garage with my life still intact. With trembling hands and jelly knees, I gathered my items and headed to the studio.

  I walked into the lifeless hallway. None of the lights were on, and there was none of the hustle and bustle of a normal workday. In the newsroom and studio, however, you would have thought it was twelve in the afternoon. All the flat-screen TV’s were blaring ESPN, NFL Network and the ends of various college basketball games. Pizza boxes and two-liter bottles of soda were strewn everywhere, while a couple of bored-looking interns played on the computer.