Rock Radio - By Lisa Wainland Page 0,12

is yours.”

Dana took the headphones from Jonny. “Thanks.” The song was coming to an end. Dana sat down behind the console and potted up the microphone.

“Hey it’s Dana Drew. Are you ready for a night of chills, spills and unexpected thrills? I hope so…‘cause I got it all right here. It kicks off with thirty minutes of non-stop rock and somewhere tonight I’ll be talking to the guys of 99 Thieves. Stay tuned.” She fired the next song.

“Dana, I gotta hand it to you. You still got it.”

“Thanks,” she said. Damn, she was a good actress.

He gathered up his things. “See ya later.”

“Bye Jonny.”

“Peace out.”

Jonny left the studio and headed to his office. At thirty-one, Jonny really felt he had made it. He strutted through the station as if he owned it, which he did.

“Hi Jonny.”

“Hey, man.”

Everyone said something as they passed him. They wanted Jonny Rock to acknowledge them. He loved their need for his acknowledgement almost as much as he loved his power of dismissal.

“Hey,” he’d reply and keep walking. Very rarely did he stop to talk to anyone, and when he did, the conversation ended on his timetable. When he was done talking, he’d say “gotta go,” and walk away. No one completed a conversation with him because they wanted to.

Jonny entered his office. It was small, messy and windowless. Everyone called it the black hole. Stuff went in, but never came out. Jonny unlocked his desk and pulled a small travel bag from his bottom drawer and took it to the restroom. Fortunately for him, the station had a private bathroom.

He went in and locked the door, put the bag on the sink and began running the water. He removed his shirt, pants and boxer shorts and hung them on the doorknob. He then took a bar of soap out of his bag and placed it inside a washcloth. He ran it under the water, working a thick lather up on the terry cloth. When he was satisfied with its soapiness, he began scrubbing his body, cleaning behind his neck, under his arms and around his manhood, removing any scent of Heather and their afternoon rendezvous. He didn’t want his wife Jill to know of his indiscretion. He rinsed his body down and dried himself with another small towel he kept in his travel bag. Jonny put on a clean pair of boxers, got dressed and brushed his hair.

The happy husband was ready to go home.

Jonny went back to his office and placed the bag back in his desk and locked the drawer. Clean and fresh, he thought, she’ll never know.

Five minutes later Jonny was in his car and stuck in traffic. He turned up the radio. Dana was on the air interviewing 99 Thieves.

“So fellas,” she said huskily, “what’s the deal with your song Stolen? Am I sensing a theme here?”

“No,” Shawn, the lead singer replied, “we’re good boys.”

“Good kleptos maybe?” Dana joked.

Shawn laughed, “You might say.”

“Some might say you have a desire to get caught,” she teased. “Let’s see, you call yourselves 99 Thieves and have a hit single called Stolen...what’s the follow-up? Fifteen to Twenty?”

They all laughed.

“Dana, I think our goal was to steal your heart.”

“Ooo,” she purred, “Now I’m blushing.”

“This I’d like to see.”

Jonny smiled. Dana sounded so natural. She always had an instant rapport with the bands she interviewed. They loved her because she made them sound good, she made them sound cool. Bands were great at making music, not at sounding interesting. To them, a great interviewer was a gift from God. The bands needed her to make them sound like rock stars and Dana Drew always delivered.

Jonny turned into his complex and dragged himself up to his third floor apartment, noting Jill’s car in their assigned spot. She was home. He popped a breath mint and went inside.

“I’m home.”

“Hey, Jonny,” Jill said emerging from the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she wiped her hands on a dishtowel and leaned in for a kiss. Jonny brushed her lips briefly.

“So how was your day?” he said sinking onto the couch.

“Tiring,” Jill replied walking back into the kitchen. Jill worked as an ad designer for a local advertising firm. She was petite and blonde, still pretty, Jonny thought. But Jill was older, as old as he was. They’d been together since college. She was comfortable, like an old shoe. He had to give her credit though, Jill stuck with him through it all. Through his days in Macon, Georgia as an overnight jock