my head, faded out the song, and tapped the microphone button. “You’re listening to Love Songs and Dedications with Lori, and well, isn’t it funny how your life can change in the blink of an eye? Well, maybe not funny, but you know what I mean.” I pressed line one on the phone, even though Tessa hadn’t screened the caller. “You’re on the air with Lori, who’s this?”
“Hi, Lori. This is Frida. Your boyfriend is a total jerk!”
“You got that right.”
“The same thing happened to me. My boyfriend was supposed to be splitting the rent with me every month, but I had been paying the whole thing for over a year. When I had finally had enough and brought it up, he said that I should be more supportive and understanding since he was trying to get out of debt. I told him to get out of my house instead.”
“Good riddance! Who needs a deadbeat man? Not me, I’ll tell you that much.”
Tessa shook her head and walked out of the studio.
“And you know what, Lori? I was fine before I met him and I’ll survive without him.”
“Yes, Frida! That’s a great attitude to have, and I have the perfect song for you. Thanks for calling.”
I played “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor and cranked the music up again.
The calls kept coming in, one after another, more calls than I had ever had in the past. It was like I had hit the energize button on the female population and motivated them even more to call in. Who would have thought my on-air break-up would have resulted in my busiest night?
The calls were different, though. Instead of looking for support and encouragement, these women were looking to vent. The songs I dedicated to them had changed as well:
“50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” by Paul Simon
“All By Myself” by Eric Carmen
“Alone Again (Naturally)” by Gilbert O’Sullivan
“Since U Been Gone” by Kelly Clarkson
“Ain’t No Sunshine” by Bill Withers
“It’s the End of the World as We Know It” by R.E.M.
“Total Eclipse of the Heart” by Bonnie Tyler
I sat back, thinking maybe I had invented a new radio format without even knowing it. Forget about Adult Contemporary or Country or Classic Rock.
Welcome to Breakup Radio!
I shook my head and laughed. “Right . . .”
Who was I kidding?
I knew it would never happen.
I also knew I would get a slap on the wrist for playing these songs if the program director ever found out. He rarely listened to my show. Unless he got a complaint or someone told him, he would probably never find out. The radio station did have what was called an aircheck system, a computer program that recorded everything that was said when the microphone was turned on, but he rarely listened to that either.
I would be fine.
The door swung open and banged against the wall.
Okay, maybe I won’t be so fine.
It was Doug, the program director.
His hair was sticking up in a hundred directions like he had been sleeping.
He crossed his arms and tapped his foot on the floor, looking like he was about to blow a gasket.
I turned down the music in the studio, hoping he didn’t hear “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell. Not that it mattered because the radio station was being played throughout the hallways of the building, so he knew I had been playing the song.
“Hey, Doug.” I swiveled around in my chair to face him, trying to sound casual, like it was business as usual. “How are things?”
He let out a breath and shook his head. “Not so good. What were you thinking?”
I forced a smile. “I played a few songs that weren’t part of the format. How bad could it be? They were very popular songs and did actually relate to each and every listener who had called in.”
“Lori—”
“Look, I know what I did was probably not the best idea, but I doubt listeners have been turning off the radio or changing the station to listen to something different. They’ve been engaged and the phones have been crazy! Look for yourself!” I pointed to the phone system.
All seven lines were flashing.
Doug didn’t even glance in that direction. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Sure, it does! As much as it was different from my normal show, and as much as it was not what I was contracted to do, everything will be back to normal tomorrow. The ratings won’t suffer and the listeners won’t care.” I slapped myself on the top of my hand. “There. I’m a bad