Nic Tatano - It Girl

"Hi, Scott," I said, as he gave me a strong hug and almost lifted my hundred and thirty-five pounds off the floor.

"There's something I haven't seen between our co-anchors in awhile," said Gavin Karlson.

"Do we have to do a tryout?" asked Scott, as he wrapped one arm around my shoulders. "Can't we just hire her right now?"

"Sorry," said the producer. "This one's not my call. But you've got as much input as I do."

"Yeah, I know," said Scott.

Gavin looked at me. "So, you go by Spitfire ?"

"My dad gave me that nickname when I was a little girl since he said I was an out of control ball of fire."

"Nothing's changed," said Scott. I playfully slapped his shoulder. "So, you ready to become the next morning show It Girl?"

"I don't know if I'd get that title, but I'd love to work with you."

"It would be nice to see you more. And my wife would be thrilled if you were my partner. She got a little tired of my bitching about Katrina."

"Well, thank goodness for the NYPD Vice Squad."

Gavin interrupted our little reunion. "You guys ready?"

Scott nodded, then took me by the hand and led me up the riser to the set, a grouping featuring a red leather couch and matching chair, a mahogany coffee table and a couple of giant flat screens hanging off the back wall which was painted royal blue. "We haven't anchored together since college. Remember how we always planned to work together?"

I nodded as we both sat down in the anchor chairs. "I'd forgotten about that, but maybe this is it. Just took ten years to get there."

"Why don't you read through the script a few times before we roll tape," said Gavin, who headed out of the studio. "I'll get someone to run the prompter and leave you two to practice."

"Sure," said Scott, who turned to me. "When was the last time you anchored?"

"I filled in a few times this year, but never more than two days in a row."

"Well, just think back to our college days. Like riding a bike. And remember, this is different than a regular newscast. It's more about personality than anything else."

I couldn't help but smile as the memory of our college newscast flashed through my mind. We had incredible chemistry that only works in television if the anchors like each other. I wondered if it would still show up after a decade apart.

A young brunette entered the studio and sat down at the teleprompter control station.

"That's Mandy," said Scott. "Mandy, this is Veronica."

She waved and gave me a cheerful smile. "Hi!"

"Hi, Mandy," I said, smiling back.

"Her pace is probably a little faster than Katrina's," said Scott.

Mandy nodded.

"Okay, you ready to do this?" he asked.

"Let's rock," I said.

I faced the camera and the words filled the prompter.

"Welcome to the Morning Show, America. I'm Scott Winter … "

"And I'm Veronica Summer. Thank you so much for joining us this Friday morning."

And just like that, I was twenty-two again, anchoring next to my closest friend in the business, looking at a future that was suddenly very bright.

Until I began to stumble through the script like I was twenty-two.

***

The job I didn't want that became the job I had to have had quickly become the "what if" moment I'd look back on for the rest of my life.

Remember my original plan to tank the tryout? This was worse.

The prompter may as well have been filled with Chinese. Even after three practice runs, I had become the victim of the classic rookie anchor mistake: stumbling out of the gate and becoming a snowball rolling downhill as I focused so much on the first screw-up I continued to make more.

Thankfully the mock interview segments we taped didn't require me to actually read, or it would have been even worse.

I knew it was gone. The Chair , the presidential campaign, rides on Air Force One, all history.

I shook my head as I looked at Scott. "I sure screwed the pooch on this opportunity."

"Pffft. Don't worry about it. They know you're not used to anchoring."

"Yeah, but they could find a small market anchor who could read the prompter better than I did."

He shrugged. "Not the biggest factor on this show."

Mandy the prompter girl walked toward the set and extended her hand. "It was nice meeting you," she said, her sad look telling me she knew she'd never see me again.

"You too," I said.

The door to the studio opened. Gavin Karlson walked through it and headed toward the set. For some odd reason he was smiling.

I dipped my head and looked up at him through sad eyes, like I'd been a bad student caught by the teacher. "I promise to buy Hooked on Phonics this afternoon."

He chuckled a bit. "Don't beat yourself up. You were fine."

"Amazing. You're channeling my mother."

He turned to Scott. "She obviously doesn't understand what we're looking for."

"Nope. Sure doesn't," he said.

"Let me guess," I said. "You're looking for an actress to play the before role in a stuttering commercial."

Gavin laughed as he sat down on the couch in the seat previously occupied by our mock interview subject. "Veronica, morning shows are all about personality. I could put any number of people in the chair to read a prompter flawlessly, but I need someone who has both incredible chemistry with Scott and who can connect with the viewers. Especially the female ones."

I cocked my head toward Scott. "I think every woman's dream over here has that covered." Scott tried to hold back a smile and blushed a bit.

"You still don't understand," said Gavin. "We need a woman that every man wants and who every woman wants to be. Someone who's going to attract men but not turn off the women. Someone who's approachable in the eyes of both sexes. If we paired some ice queen with him we'd lose the women even though they love Scott."

"But you said you wanted a harder edge to the show," I said.

"I do," said Gavin, "but it's still crucial that the new co-anchor bring great chemistry to the equation. The fact that you two have been friends for years really came through the screen. It's obvious you like each other. When we brought Scott on two years ago the women responded, but Katrina had no chemistry with him. She started resenting all the attention he got and it showed. She came off like a bitch with some of her snide comments and that turned off a lot of women. I've got a few thousand emails if you wanna read 'em."

"So, I'm still in the running?"

"Very much so."

My spirits lifted a bit and I actually smiled.

Until I saw the competition strut into the studio.

***

Every Sunday for the past five years I've had a standing appointment with my two closest friends. We meet at the same restaurant for brunch at eleven.

And even though I'm about twenty minutes late, I already know the topic of conversation.

Me.

Thankfully, they'll be supportive, which is what I need right now. I guess I should tell you about them.

Layla Starr has been my best friend since high school. The first time I saw her and heard her name, I did the judge-a-book-by-its-cover thing. At fourteen she had reached her current height, five-ten, and current figure, classic supermodel. With huge ice blue eyes that are a striking contrast to her black shoulder length hair, she could have been a model right then. With a name like Layla she was an obvious target for off-color comments from the boys at school.

When she was assigned to be my chemistry lab partner and I caught a glimpse of her killer body and perfect cheekbones, I rolled my eyes knowing I'd be wearing invisibility spray as the males in the classroom would totally ignore me. One of the boys nearly blew up the lab when she came to class one day in her cheerleader uniform that showed off legs up to her neck. Anyway, turned out she was this conservative girl from a strict family much like mine, so we became fast friends. I consider her the sister I never had.