Rock Radio - By Lisa Wainland Page 0,2
he’d be fine. If they were looking for him, his time away might pose a bigger problem with questions he didn’t want to answer.
He showed his badge to his favorite security guard, Joel, winking at him to ensure his accomplice status. Joel gave Jonny his familiar nod, “How are you today, Mr. Rock?”
“Just fine, Joel,” Jonny said, words trailing as his body kept moving forward toward the staircase that led to the studio.
He swiftly maneuvered through the endless rows of sales cubicles, zig zagging with great skill, hoping to avoid eye contact.
It was not to be.
“Jonny boy.”
Jonny turned to see Nick Coleman approaching him. Nick was one of the sleazier sales people. Short with a big Napoleon complex, Nick was your buddy...if you could do something for him. Nick loved the idea that he was friends with the big personalities at the station. Friendships he created himself.
“Hey, Nick.” Jonny waved quickly and kept moving. He wanted to make a fast exit.
“Jonny, I got a great proposition for you.” Nick fell in step with Jonny. “I have this client who’s opening a surf shop in Fort Lauderdale right on A1A with a perfect view of the beach. You’d love it.”
Jonny stopped and looked Nick square in the eyes. At the age of thirty-nine, Nick still fancied himself twenty-two. He wore his hair a bit too long and had a small gold hoop earring in one ear. He looked ridiculous to everyone but himself. “Dude, I’m on the air now, I gotta go.”
Nick shrugged his shoulders. “Then what are you doing down here?”
Jonny thought fast. “I came down to get a soda.”
Nick looked at Jonny’s empty hands. “I don’t see a soda.”
“They didn’t have what I wanted. Nick, I’m leaving.”
“Right. I’ll walk with you.”
Jonny started walking. Salespeople were not allowed in the studios. If he could get there fast enough, he could get rid of Nick.
“Anyway, Jonny, this guy’s gonna have this huge beach bash...free beer, Playhouse girls in bikinis,” he nudged Jonny, “a real big kick-off party and he wants you there for the festivities. Are you in?”
Jonny didn’t really have much choice. If a client specifically asked for him, he pretty much had to say yes. That rule came from upper management. But he liked pretending that he did have a choice, that he did have some control.
“I’ll think about it Nick.”
“You do that. They’ll pay you, plus I’m sure I can get them to give you some gift certificates for the store as a little bonus. And, hey,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “what could be better than a couple hours with some Playhouse girls?”
“Right.” He gritted his teeth.
“Maybe we’ll get that midday jock Dana Drew to put on one of those little string bikinis...now that would draw a crowd. You know if she wasn’t such a stuck up bitch I’d go after her myself.”
“Nick, you’re married,” Jonny said cringing at the thought. Dana was his friend and besides, Nick had kids, an affair for him was different.
“Yeah...and?” For Nick, every conquest made him an inch taller. When he looked in the mirror, he was seven feet tall.
They reached the studio door.
“Nick, I gotta go...”
“Alright buddy, think about it and let me know. I’ll confirm with this surf shop guy that you’re gonna be there so he’ll sign the contract. Big bucks for me, man. Can you say ca-ching?”
Yeah, Jonny thought, and I’ll see how much of that? My pittance fixed per hour rate. Big motivation, Nick, big motivation.
Jonny pushed through the studio door ending the conversation. The heavy, soundproof door shut, cutting Nick off mid-sentence. At last, he was safe.
Jonny looked around the room. Everything was as he had left it: the music log resting so officially above the console on a clear Plexiglas stand, his fighter pilot style sunglasses strewn on the counter and a set of keys perched around the microphone, keys from Jonny’s old Nissan that he drove in high school oh so many years ago. It was Jonny’s clever set up, if anyone came in, they’d assume he was in the building. After all, no one would leave all his stuff out like that. Especially not his keys.
Jonny didn’t feel guilty. Technology made it so radio no longer needed people. Of course radio still needed great personalities like him, he reassured himself, but that was really all they need from him. A new computer system housed an enormous music library and all of the commercials. The computer ran the whole show, playing song after song,