The message on her voice mail said, "No matter when you come in, call me."
Vik sounded calm as always, but he had never done business except during business hours, and she couldn't imagine what emergency required that she call right away.
Her mom . . . but no, that was silly. If something was wrong, Kate would be hearing from a totally different source. She was just nervous after what had happened to her dad.
But she carried the phone into the bathroom, and while she toed off her boots, she hit the talk button.
Vik picked up right away. Brief as always, he said, "I've had an offer for a job for you."
"What?" She wasn't looking for a job. She was looking for a shower. "At this hour?"
"Someone in Austin saw your hurricane report, and now Brad Hasselbeck at KTTV is offering you a position covering the capitol. He said they wanted to make an offer before another station grabbed you."
She blinked. "I could barely find a job in the first place. Now someone's worried about a bidding war?"
"Let's not tell him there is no bidding war. Let's take the job."
Everything about this was unlike Vik. The hour, the rush to accept . . . "Why? I just started the Houston job. You said it was a great starter position."
"It was. This is better."
"Better?" Leaning over the tub, she ran the water until it was warm. A shower. She desperately needed a shower. "How better?"
"Brad saw your coverage of the hurricane and said you looked great. He knows you've got political science and broadcasting degrees. He seems to think that makes you the perfect candidate to cover the capitol."
"How did he know all that?"
"I suppose he still had your résumé." She could hear the frown in Vik's voice. "The offer is good. Twice the money you're making now. You'll be in Austin, which you wanted in the first place."
"Yes, I wanted to be close to Mom, but—" The significance of what he said sank in. "Twice the money?"
"That's what I said. Twice the money."
"That seems too good to be true, and my dad always said if something seems too good to be true, it usually is." But she wanted to do more serious reporting than weather and parades, and the state capitol sounded challenging. Interesting.
Her dream job.
"I know. That's what I thought, but I've placed a client with him before, so I called her. She's gone on to a San Francisco station, so she hasn't worked with him for about a year, but she said Brad was good to work for, no perversions, totally dedicated to the business. If anything, he's a workaholic who doesn't have time for anything but the job. Apparently, he's almost manic about the job."
So Vik had done his best to ameliorate his doubts, and hers. "It's so tempting."
"It's more than tempting, it's perfect. In the city you want, in the position you want, for twice the money. Kate, if you turn this down, you'll be the biggest fool in Texas."
TWO
With his beer belly, his receding hairline, and his small brown eyes, Brad Hasselbeck looked like the bad southern sheriff in a seventies movie. His windows looked out over West Austin's rolling streets. His office was decorated with an early Coca-Cola vending machine, videotapes, and seven televisions all showing something different. His hand hovered over the remote controls, his gaze flicked from screen to screen, and Kate had the impression he was keeping track of every one of
them—and her.
But his smile was wide and welcoming, and he ground out his cigarette in his overflowing ashtray shaped like the state of Texas. "Miss Montgomery—"
"Please, call me Kate."
"We like to have a little decorum here at KTTV, so I'll call you Miss Montgomery. But you call me Brad." His West Texas accent removed any sting from the comment. "Welcome to KTTV. We're glad to have someone of your caliber. Have you been able to find your way around our great city?"
"Yes, I know Austin well." Kate knew the right answer to give. "My mother lives here, so you can send me wherever you need a reporter and I'll be able to find—" "Good." He still wasn't looking directly at her. "You're probably living with your mama then."
"No, we live apart." How odd that he would think they'd live together!
His sharp glance darted to her, did a quick up and down, then returned to the screens. His gaze wasn't insulting or sexist, more analytical, as if he was weighing her, judging her . . . really observing her for the first time.
How strange. If he wanted her so much as a reporter, she would have thought he'd be done with his assessment. She hoped he hadn't changed his mind. "I rented a town house in a converted warehouse downtown."
"You should be safe enough."
"I would think so." What an odd comment, but then, Kate was beginning to think Brad was an odd man. "Mom wanted me to live with her, but—"
"Right. Right. You need your space, blah, blah. Young, free, et cetera. We're going to have you work the capitol. The Senate is in special session, won't go on break until Thanksgiving or the governor declares they're done." Standing, Brad hefted his brown leather belt over his belly, and gestured through the wide windows into the newsroom where he could see each and every desk and each and every reporter—and Kate would bet he kept track of them, too. "I'm sending you over with Linda Nguyen so you can learn the ropes. Come on, I'll find her for you." With a gait like John Wayne's, he rolled out of his office.
She followed him down the hallway and wondered if anyone ever got to finish a sentence around Brad.
As they stepped into the newsroom, silence fell. Kate shot a smile around, but it wasn't returned. Not by anybody. Everyone, every single person in the newsroom, stared at her, flinty-eyed and hostile.
Her smile faltered.
She'd dressed carefully for her first day at work. Black pants, white shirt, midnight blue jacket, and everything cut without a hint of sexuality. Her heels made her legs look long and lifted her up enough to give her confidence when looking people in the eyes. Her makeup was subdued, her hair blown smooth and brushing her shoulders. She was the epitome of the perfect reporter. So why did they look at her as if she were a bug smashed on the windshield?
"This is Kate Montgomery, our new capitol reporter. You all make her welcome." Brad looked around, and his voice contained a threat as he added, "A good Austin welcome."
"Hi, Kate."
"Hey, Kate, good to have you in Austin."
"Good to meet you, Kate."
Each welcoming word was delivered in a monotone; the insincerity was palpable, and not even Brad's glare produced anything more than glances sidling away.
Kate didn't understand the enmity. Sure, this was a competitive business, but never had she felt so awkward.
"Here's your desk, your phone, your computer." Brad indicated a space beside the window. "You won't be here much. The happenings up at the capitol should keep you plenty busy."
"Good." Especially if the crew was always this surly.
"Linda, here's your trainee." He stopped by the desk of a young Asian woman and rapped on it with his knuckles. "Get Miss Montgomery out there, show her around. Introduce her to the right people."
"Sure, whatever you say." Petite, dark-eyed, with sleek black hair and the taut muscled body of a reporter whose job depended on her looks and her ability to chase criminals while wearing four-inch heels, Linda stacked papers, turned off her computer, and stood in one graceful motion.
"I say she better be up and running by next week." Kate jumped as Brad yelled, "Sonovabitch!" and pointed at the monitors clearly visible through the windows of his office. "Bomb scare at an elementary school!" He wheeled and headed for his office. "Roberts! Potter! Get in here!"
Two reporters slapped their work aside and hurried after him. With his departure, the temperature in the newsroom dropped from cold to frigid.
"Come on, Miss Montgomery," Linda said. "I've been waiting for you to get here, and now I'm late for a hearing."
As if it were Kate's fault! Without a backward glance, Linda walked out to the el
evator.
Everyone in the newsroom bustled with patently fake business, and they said not a word. If ever there was proof something was wrong, it was that, for newsrooms were never silent.
Determined to get to the bottom of the situation, Kate joined Linda at the elevator.
"You take your car; I'll take mine." Linda punched the call button. "Since you'll probably be leaving early." As if it would hurry the elevator, she punched the call button again.
"Why would I leave early?" Kate asked coolly. "I can't imagine you want to hang around for the real work."
"You can't?" When Kate was in grade school, her mom had taught her how to deal with females untrained in the social graces.
"Look. Let's not pretend." Linda punched the button again, then looked surprised when the doors opened. "You're one of those girl reporters who make it on your looks, your expensive haircut, and your capped teeth." _ She stepped inside.
Kate followed, her indignation rising.
"I spent ten years covering blizzards in Chicago and debutante balls in North Carolina before I earned the right to cover the Texas state capitol." Linda jabbed the button for the ground floor, then punched the close-door button, then jabbed the ground-floor button again. "Now Brad creates a position for you so you can waltz in and take the glamour job. I don't know who you know, and I can't do anything about having to teach you the ropes." The elevator began its glide down to the ground floor. "But I don't have to like it, and I don't have to like you, and I don't have to pretend."
I don't know anyone. But what was the use of saying so? Linda wouldn't believe it. No one at the station would believe it.
"Are you going to run to Brad and tattle on me?" When the doors opened, Linda strode out of the elevator and turned to face Kate, her hands on her hips, a short, belligerent Vietnamese American with a righteous attitude and a blue silk suit that Kate coveted.
Kate's mother was a southern lady steeped in courtesy and elegance. Her father had been a man given to blunt honesty and plain speaking.
Kate was her mother's daughter—but at that moment her father's spirit took possession of her. "No, I'm not going to tattle on you. I'm going to go to the capitol and make contacts, and within two years everybody in Austin is going to know that I'm the best reporter who ever covered this beat."
Linda's jaw dropped.
"Anything you want to tell me? Like where to park or who to avoid because he's your contact? I'd hate to embarrass you, and I'd really hate to win by taking unfair advantage with my expensive haircut and capped teeth." Kate smiled, showing the sharp points of the teeth that had seen years of braces but no caps.
Linda's mouth snapped shut. "By the way, if you like, I'll give you the name of my personal shopper." With another brilliant smile, Kate headed for her car, a sporty BMW coupe. As she sank into the leather seat and shut the door, she could imagine what Linda was thinking.
Rich, spoiled, untalented.
In the protected confines, Kate drew a long breath and pressed her cold hands to her hot cheeks. Damn! She'd pinned so many hopes on this job, worried about why she'd got it and what could go wrong, but this . . . this bitter personal resentment had never occurred to her. Sure, she'd come from a wealthy family and that had given her an advantage in being able to afford the tuition at any university she chose. But she'd worked hard to get into Vanderbilt, and studied hard to graduate at the top of her class. Sure, she knew people, but she hadn't tapped anyone to get a job, quite the opposite. And as for Brad creating a position for her—she didn't believe it. Why would he do that?
Set in the heart of Austin, the red granite of the capitol rose four stories and faced south at the end of Congress Avenue. The basement was connected to an underground mall to the north, which housed the Senate and legislative offices, and underground passages veered off to the state Supreme Court building and the buildings that housed various state agencies. The area was green with well-tended lawns and late-blooming flowers. Everything about the area was lovely and well planned—except the parking, which was a joke. The scramble for parking involved permits and assigned spaces and lots of asphalt striped with white lines. The few garages were reserved for visitors and legislators--even when the legislature wasn't in session. Kate followed Linda into a parking lot.
As Linda led Kate through the humid September heat toward the entrance to the underground mall, she said, "Usually, this time of year, there's not much going on, but the governor called a special session for school funding. Luckily for us the debates are heated and partisan." They headed down the stairway toward the Senate Finance Chamber. "The clerks and interns give us some of our best information. Don't step into an empty room with any of the senators unless you're prepared to fight for your virtue. Don't screw up." Linda's smile at the gentleman opening the door for them was at complete odds with her sharp tone. "Brad'll blame me."
"Remember, Miss Nguyen, after today we hardly have to see each other." The blast of air-conditioning took Kate's breath away. She walked quickly down the corridor, her long strides leaving Linda eating her dust.
Linda caught up with her in a hurry and steered her into the path of a short gray-haired man clad in a tan suit. "Representative Rimmer, this is our new reporter . . ." She pretended to forget Kate's name.
Kate stepped forward and shook his hand. "Representative Rimmer, I'm Kate Montgomery."
He heartily proclaimed, "How good to meet Miss Nguyen's replacement."
That did it. "I'm not her replacement." Kate could feel waves of heat coming off the fuming Linda. "She's showing me around."
"That's right, but Kate has a political science degree." Linda injected just enough scorn into her praise to turn it sour.
Pride whipped along Kate's nerves. And a degree in broadcasting. Again, a waste of time to defend herself. She would stand or fall according to her performance, not her qualifications. As a small crowd gathered, she widened her eyes in false innocence. "That's how I know the difference between the House and the Senate."
Representative Rimmer bellowed with laughter, a big laugh for such a short man.
"Very good." A gray-haired Hispanic woman listened to the exchange, then extended her hand to Kate. "We find education improves the coverage."
Kate recognized her at once. "Senator Martinez, I'm privileged to make your acquaintance." Kate meant it. The one female senator in the Texas capitol, Senator Martinez was a woman who had taken the seat on her husband's death and never relinquished it through twenty years of redistricting and partisan mayhem.
Senator Martinez took the time to chat with Kate. So did Senator Rimmer and two legislators who stopped by. It seemed reporters were important cogs in the wheels of government, especially young, single female reporters, and Kate worked hard to make a good first impression.
She glanced up once to see Linda standing on the periphery, smiling tightly, and when she did, another man caught her eye.
He was a good-looking man of fifty-something, his thick blond hair swept into a stiff Bill Clinton—style cut.
His charismatic smile flashed, and for the briefest of moments, his blue eyes burned as he watched Kate.
She took a breath, startled by the heat of his gaze.
Then he smiled genially, and the impression of fire dissipated. He stepped forward, and the crowd parted to let him through.
Linda's voice contained a tone of respect when she said, "Senator Oberlin, this is the new reporter for KTTV, Kate Montgomery."
"Kate." His voice was deep, pleasant, without a trace of a Texas accent, and Kate guessed he'd taken the same kind of voice training reporters used. "How good to meet you." He shook her hand, and his touch lingered a second too long.
Oh. He was one of those. One of the guys who imagined his position made him attractive to women. Carefully she removed her fingers from his, and concentrated on the cool intellect he so skillfully displayed and the deference with which he was treated.
"I want you to have the chance to meet one of the most impor
tant people at the capitol." He extended his hand outside of the circle. "Mr. Duarte, come and meet our newest reporter."
Mr. Duarte hobbled forward. A name badge on his uniform identified him as JANITOR. He looked frail, but he wasn't nearly as old as she first thought; pain, she suspected, caused the aging. He offered a warped, arthritic hand.
She took it carefully.
"Mr. Duarte is from Louisiana," Senator Oberlin said.
"I'm a Cajun," Mr. Duarte added proudly, his thick accent verifying his claim.
"And a Korean War veteran," Senator Oberlin continued. "Anything you want to know about the capitol and the politics, he can tell you."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Duarte. My dad was a Vietnam War vet."
His shrewd, blue eyes surveyed her. "You've lost him?"
"Five years ago, he died overseas." Her smile twisted. "He was an oilman." She heard a few people take a breath. They remembered, and she was sorry she'd let her empathy with Mr. Duarte lead to her confession.
"Your dad was the Stephen Montgomery who was captured and killed by terrorists?" Linda looked stunned—and dismayed.
"Yeah." Kate kept her gaze on Mr. Duarte. "But my mom lives here in Austin."
"That's good." Mr. Duarte's eyes warmed. "You stay close to your mama." He glanced around. "Guess I'd better get back to work. How about the rest of you all?"
A round of laughter followed his pointed comment, and the crowd drifted away.
Kate watched Mr. Duarte hobble off, then turned to Senator Oberlin. "Thank you for introducing me to him."
"He'll help you find your way around." Carefully, Senator Oberlin said, "I'm open to having you do a piece on me, too. Of course, any politician here would like to have a piece done on him or her. We're all publicity hounds."
"I'll remember that." He really was very handsome, very smooth. He might be interested in her, or he might just be the kind of man who easily created intimacy with people without seeking anything other than a vote.
"The committee meeting is starting on the hour." He glanced at his watch, then at Linda. "I'd love to see you in there. I'd really like public support for this measure."
CLOSE TO YOU: Enhanced (Lost Hearts) Page 2
