Rock Radio - By Lisa Wainland Page 0,8

condition before he took his father on. He was physically ready to do it, but when the time arose, he couldn’t. Something in him did not allow him to strike his father.

So Cody got a gun.

It was a rainy night. Kevin came home, drunk again, screaming his usual tirade at his mother who was cowering in the corner, taking punch after punch. Cody pulled the silver revolver from under his mattress. He bought it three weeks ago from his friend Roy who worked at the pawnshop in town. Roy sold it to him for fifty bucks at the back door of the store.

“Dude, don’t say where you got this, I could get in big trouble,” Roy said as he handed Cody the gun and slipped the carefully folded bills into his pocket.

“I won’t,” Cody promised and took his piece of mind back home, hiding it in his room.

All he needed to hear were the screams. He looked down at the gun in his hands. He’d never fired one before. He pointed it at the wall and took aim, placing his index finger on the trigger wondering if he had it in him.

“You whore bitch!” he heard his father yell. And then his mother was crying.

Oh, yes, he did.

Slowly, Cody walked out of his room, a sense of calm coming over him. He tiptoed into the room. His father’s back was to him. Kevin was bent over Jane, too busy screaming at his mother to hear Cody approach. He turned when he felt cold steel against his forehead.

“Get up,” Cody said evenly.

“What the...?” Kevin spun around and swatted at Cody. Cody ducked. His dad was drunk, Cody was alert and strong. He’d been preparing for this moment for years.

His dad came at him again. Cody stepped aside and turned to punch his father as he flew by. Kevin stumbled to the floor. Cody pointed the gun at his father.

“I will shoot you if you come after my mother or me again. I will call the police if you don’t leave.” His voice was strong, his hand steady, his heart terrified. “This is not a threat.”

Kevin tried to get up and lurch at Cody. Cody cocked the gun. The loud click silenced Kevin.

“Get up,” Cody said, motioning the gun at his father, “get up and don’t you ever come back.”

Kevin scrambled to his feet. “You’ll be sorry. Try livin’ on your own bright boy,” he spat and tumbled out the door. Cody immediately ran to the door, locked and chained it, then turned to his mother.

“It’s over,” he said, lowering the gun.

His mother looked at him with fear in her eyes.

“Cody Blue, what do we do now?”

Chapter 4

Dana Drew wasn’t lying about coming in early to do show prep. Not really. She did have an interview that day with the hot new rock band, 99 Thieves, but she pretty much knew all the info about them already. And she did want to read the newspaper, as usual, to find any cool stories or local tidbits that might make her show more interesting. But the show prep reason was really an excuse. Truth was, Dana’s boyfriend was moving out of their apartment today and she didn’t want to be there.

Dana thought Sam Quinn might have been the one. She met him standing in line at the post office. They had a nice conversation, a real conversation, with no talk of who did what for a living. It was a refreshing change. Being Dana Drew wasn’t supposed to be a twenty-four hour job, but it was. Inevitably, when she was out, people recognized her and expected her to be their buddy from the radio. She wasn’t sure if new friends were friends because of who she was or what she did for a living.

The same applied to men.

To some she was a conquest. They wanted to say, ‘I had Dana Drew.’ She had to be very careful who she dated and was always wary in a new relationship. She knew it made her seem distant to interested guys, but Dana had to know if they were dating Dana Hill from Orlando or Dana Drew, rock deejay.

Dana, like most disc jockeys, didn’t use her real name on the air. Most deejays portrayed a close relationship with their listeners, but the airwaves were where the “friendship” began and ended. The on-air persona was a character and when the deejay got off the air, private life began. Giving out your last name was like an invitation to