“That’s it?” Susannah shoots back. “That’s it, like all we’ve done is do shows about gardening or some lame ass Top 40 countdown. In case you haven’t noticed, I know more about your sex life than even your avid listeners do. Hell, I’ve been able to see when you’re talking book talk, and when you’re talking fantasies, and when you’re talking real life experiences. You’ve seen the same from me.”
“We work together, that’s the nature of the show, of course you know a lot about me. I don’t get what your point is. ”
“I’m just fucking pissed, Derrick. I’ve poured my guts into this show and I thought you were too. It works because we bounce off each other and balance each other’s styles. Now you’re just phoning it in? That’s bullshit and it’s only a matter of time before it costs us.”
Her little speech puts me on my heels, and I look down, wondering if she’s right. I’ve checked our ratings, they’re still holding strong, even if Susannah is freaking out. “Suz, I’ve never been a prepper. The show’s doing okay, and we’re fine on-air. I’m sorry if you feel like I’m not giving you as much focus, but I’m as committed as I’ve always been. You need to chill out.”
Susannah sighs. “I wasn’t going to say anything until we got something harder on the plate, but there’s been a few feelers by a production company. They’re talking national syndication plus maybe TV or Internet video broadcasting our shows too.”
“What?” I ask, shocked. I’ve heard nothing about this. “Why?”
“Well, you would have, but you haven’t stuck around. It’d be a lot like how Stern and some of the other talk radio people have their shows broadcast. They’ll set up a couple of hard cameras in a new studio that they’ll pay for, and then we do our show like normal. But none of that can happen unless these guys see you at the top of your game. I’m doing everything I can to hold this shit together and grow the show, but I can’t do it by myself.”
I blink, stunned. “Okay . . . okay, you’ve got a point. But Suz, and this is serious, if you’re mad at me, leave it work related. It’s not Kat’s fault, so leave her out of it. I think I may have found the one and I’m not going to listen to that.”
I see something glimmer in Susannah’s eyes, but she nods. “Okay then, agreed. Now, about tonight’s show.”
“Yeah,” I say, putting aside the bad feelings. We aired them out, it’s over. Kinda like when I was in football and two guys on the team had beef. We’d hash it out, sometimes a punch or two was thrown, but after that, it was time to play the game and turn that anger against our opponents. “I get the feeling there’s something unique about her. You said videos, what’s the deal?”
Before Susannah can speak, my phone rings again. “For fuck’s sake!”
“Sorry,” I reply, looking down.
She’s right back pissed again, muttering under her breath. “Of course you’re going to answer it, regardless of what you just said. Her little lap dog, running whenever she calls or texts a damn thing.” She stomps out of the room, venomous contempt dripping from every word.
Knowing we’ll definitely have to revisit that since apparently our truce from mere moments ago didn’t last, I growl and answer the call. “Dad?”
Dad’s breathing is heavy and labored, and inside I immediately start to worry. “Derrick, I’m so sorry.”
“Dad, what’s wrong?” I ask, standing up. “What’s happening?”
“I was outside, moving stuff around in the shed, and . . .” he says, gasping for air and groaning. “My heart. I think I’m having a heart attack.”
“Dad, I’m calling 9-1-1.” I go to grab a desk phone, but he stops me.
“Already called. They’re on their way. Derrick, I love you, son. I’m damn proud of you.” There’s a tone to his voice, it sounds like he’s trying to say goodbye.
Choking back a sob, I growl at the phone, “I know, Dad. I love you too, but don’t do that. You’re gonna be ok, I’m gonna meet you at the hospital.”
I keep talking, but I’m running out of the office to my car. The show never even crosses my mind as I peel out of the lot and head toward the hospital.
“Dad, I met someone. She’s the one and I’m going to marry her. I want you to meet her, so you gotta fight. Just like you always taught me when football got tough. You gotta keep fighting, okay?”
“Ok, son . . . they’re here.” There’s a jostling sound on the phone and a woman’s voice comes on the line.
“Hello? We’re taking him to City Center Hospital. You can meet us there.”
I think I say okay, but then it’s just dead air. There’s not much traffic, and I’m admittedly driving way too fast, but it still feels like forever and a day to get there.