SCOOPED

A short story by

K. Sue Collins, author of Literary Promiscuity

We’ll Wake You, Channel Six’s local morning program, was in the final stages to air an interview with hometown boy makes good in NFL with area’s football team. His name was Commie Reed. He played Defensive Tackle and was just selected for the Pro Bowl. This was his sophomore year on the team and he had already had achieved a team record 37 sacks in a single season. He was all over local advertisements touting new automobiles at used car prices for Matt’s Imports. All of this information made for good copy on the feature side of the news. Alison Banks, the interviewer, wanted more, specifically the details of the other night’s run in with the law.

Commie’s manager had ordered the news reporter not mention last week’s indiscretion. Alison, being ever so loyal, agreed, fingers crossed. No way was she going to let this opportunity slip past her fingers. The past couple years of her career have been touch and go. She had had many chances to improve, but crummy luck had intervened. Luck was not going to dictate this time. The news was too juicy to pass up. Commie was married to his high school sweetheart. That didn’t stop him from approaching an undercover police officer posing as a prostitute. He was taken into custody with four ounces of marijuana in his shirt pocket. His lawyer made a big stink about the whole incident, threatening to sue the police department. The P.D. had just experienced a shake up. Internal Affairs had arrested a number of police officers due to a lengthy undercover operation. Rumor had it that the "prostitute" was one of the officers working with Internal Affairs. Wanting to avoid negative publicity and added embarrassment, the Police Department dropped the charges. This was stuff out of an Ellroy novel. Leave it alone and focus on the community involvement program Commie had set up, yeah, right, Alison thought. She would broadcast on live television. Commie Reed would have no idea what hit him.

Commie Reed was just shy of six feet. Short by football standards, but he made up for it by the measure of his girth. Wearing her killer heels, Alison clicked over to Commie and shook his hand which could snap her neck like a dry twig. She didn’t let that influence her decision. This interview would put her on the right track and then look out Katie Couric, I’ll be the one next to Matt Lauer on the couch. Hard core news stories at first, then you can do the fluff when you’ve made it. Her shoulder length standard issue newscaster hairdo bounced with her smile. Commie’s manager, Hartley instructed him "Be careful of that bitch, she will sink you. She’s the worst in a cutthroat industry. She comes across all Mary Pickford, but turns into Norma Desmond before your very eyes." Commie did not understand half of the analogy Hartley had drawn. He could not see how this little girl could be any trouble. He would have her eating out of the palm of his hand. She would be drooling like all the cheerleaders. Besides he had nothing to worry about, Hartley had only agreed to the interview if Commie’s last week was left out of the conversation. The focus would be on his involvement with an after school program that he helps funds for community sports. This would interview would improve Commie’s chances of getting an endorsement deal with Nike. They love that community shit. The only reason Commie donated to charity was to get something out of it.

"It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Reed." Alison gave him her best Sandra Bullock smile. Oh, no problem at all. She would succomb to Commie’s charms in a matter of seconds.

She wiggled over to the interview set up. The usual local channel’s studio set up. Two comfy chairs at forty five degree angle’s facing each other. Alison pointed to the one that Commie was to sit. The sound person miked them up three minutes earlier. Alison could see the TelePrompTer out of the corner of her eye with the committed to questions. It didn’t matter. As soon as the cameras started to roll all bets were off. Bill and Janie were finishing up commenting on the latest news story before they threw the lead over to Alison Banks.

Years of poise, Alison looked directly into camera. "Good Morning, this is Alison Banks and today we have with us number 54 Defensive Tackle Commie Reed." She turned to Commie: "Hello Commie, nice of you to join us, today."

A four point seven million dollar a year smile. "It’s my pleasure, Alison."

Alison smiled back. She was going to eat him alive. "Now, Commie, I know there are thousands of women out there that are just wondering if you are happily married."

"Sorry, Ladies, but my wife and I have been happily married for three years." He bared all of his front teeth.

Alison tore away from the TelePrompTer. "Is that so, Commie?" She didn’t give him breath to answer. He still thought he was on Good Morning, Miami. "I find it odd that ‘happily married’ husband would find it necessary to search out sex from hookers, any response to that?"

Sideswiped, Commie looked over to where his manager was stationed. Hartley was shocked that Alison would blatantly flaunt her knowledge in front of the cameras. Alison snapped her fingers in front of Commie to get his attention. "Commie, any response?"

Slowly his mouth formed the words, "No comment." It was weak a sure sign of guilt. Commie looked over to his manager for help. Hartley was motioning for the interview to stop. Alison ignored and plunged ahead. "Okay, we’ll leave it alone since you have ‘no comment’ to that instance. Let’s move on to the marijuana found on you during the arrest. Care to comment?"

Hartley flew up to the director of the show and was passionately proving his point. Commie was going to handle this by himself. He could certainly handle this bitch. He was blindsided once and it wasn’t going to happen again. If this Alison Banks chick wanted to play he was bringing the ball. "Yeah, I care to comment on it."

Hartley stopped in his tracks and watched in horror as Commie went forward mano e mano against Alison Banks. "The cops didn’t have a case against me. That’s why they let me go. I wasn’t charged with anything. They had no case against me."

Alison scrunched up her face. "If that is the case why were you taking into custody?"

Commie was unresponsive. "Look Lady, you would have to ask the police as to why they didn’t put me in jail. I was set up and they knew it."

"They set you up?" He grunted in approval. "The police woman posing as a hooker forced you to let her into your car and made you say you wanted a blow job from her. According to your statement, she forced you to offer her fifty bucks for said blowjob." Her insinuation was clear. "Isn’t it true, Commie, that they only let you go after your lawyer threatened to sue the police department for false arrest?"

Commie crossed his arms across his chest. "I’m not saying anything else."

Alison continued her commentary to the camera when she saw the camera light go off. She stopped talking to the camera. "What the fuck?" She shouted to the air.

Hartley stormed over to the chair and lifted Commie up. Commie was more than amenable to leave. "Come on, Commie, we’re out of here."

Alison stood up. "Hey, you just can’t walk out of an interview!" She followed them on their exit. Her producer, Michelle, a guy with a girl’s name, blocked her way. She stomped her foot and threw her hands down in a four year old’s fit. "God damn it, Mickie, what the fuck happened to the feed?"

Michelle latched onto her arm. "You and me, we need to talk. You’re off the air."

The air left Alison’s lungs. "When will I be back on?"

Michelle didn’t want to do this in front of the others. He led her over to the side. "Shut up for a second."

Janie the newscaster spoke. "Sorry, but we’ve had some technical problems and are unable to bring you Alison Banks’ interview with Commie Banks. Let’s recap today’s top news stories…"

"Oh, come on!" Alison blurted out. Janie stopped talking long enough to lock eyes with Alison. Michelle grabbed her arm tighter and yanked her out of the studio. He shoved her out of the door.

"What the fuck was that about, Mickie?" She spat out at him.

Michelle sometimes wanted to smack the hell out of Alison. "You can’t do that on live television."

"What? Give a compelling interview?"

I need a smoke, Michelle thought. "You can’t say blowjob on morning television."

Alison gave a chort. "I did no such thing."

He shut his eyes tightly. Sometimes there was no dealing with her. "It’s on tape, Ali."

"So what? Pay the fine and let’s get on with the interview." She leaned against the railing.

"It’s not about the fine anymore, Ali. The FCC is cracking down on all sorts of obscenities. If Jackson and Stern can’t get away with it, what makes you think you can?"

She rocked back and forth on the railing. "It’s not obscene, Mickie. It’s the news."

Michelle grabbed her shoulders. He had this uncontrollable desire to shake the life out of her. "Take a break from it all, Alison. You’ve got a job, you know how many would be doing backflips to have had the opportunities you have. You’re too greedy for your own good. And you’re not talented enough to be where you think you belong. Nobody is talented enough to be where you think you belong. So deal with it."

Alison grabbed the railing with her hands and leaned forward. "Screw you, Michelle. Any producer worth his salt would have given me more opportunities. You watch I will break that story. I’m going to be Woodward and Bernstein in one and with better tits," she whispered in confidence to him.

God, she could be so crass for someone in such a neat package. "Until that time comes, you’ll be stuck covering cookie drives. There’s no way, you’ll ever interview another celebrity."

"So what, I’ve got plenty of contacts all over the place. I should be covering politics and major news stories."

Michelle had to laugh at this notion. "With the way you behaved with Commie, you honestly think that I would let you come within fifty yards of the Secret Service."

Alison let go of the railing. "I quit, let yourself deal with that." She walked down the ramp. "Remember this day, Mickie," she yelled back to Michelle.