Charlie All Night (17 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Cruise

BOOK: Charlie All Night
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*  *  *
Harry came out of the booth, and Allie looked at him with suspicion.
"What are you up to?"
"Me? Nothing." Harry grinned at her. "Have a good time tomorrow night."
"Did you put him up to that?"
"Nope. Thought of it on his own. 'Bout time, too, don't you think?"
Allie narrowed her eyes at him. "Harry, you wouldn't lie to me, would
you?"
"Nope." Harry went off down the hall whistling.
Well, he was up to something. But she was going to see Charlie, outside
the radio station, for an
entire evening, so it really didn't matter.
For the first time in a long while, she began to look forward to the
next day.
*  *  *
"You know, Mark's up to something," Allie told Charlie during the news
break.
"Oh, there's a surprise," Charlie said. "Of course he's up to
something. He wants you back."
Allie blinked. "I don't think so. But I do think he's trying to ruin
your show. I think he's the one—"
"Our show," Charlie corrected her. "It's our show. I know he's trying
to ruin it. I found our missing promo tapes in his office. But he's
also trying to get you back. I may have to hit him, after all."
"Why?" Allie looked at him in exasperation. "You're leaving next week.
Why should you care?"
"Because I'd hate to think any woman could go from me to Mark," he said.
"Well, since you won't be here to watch, I don't see what difference it
makes." Allie turned away
from him in disgust. "You think I'm going to
give up men just because you're leaving?"
Charlie watched through the booth windows as she stomped away.
Yeah,
he
thought.
That's exactly
what I want.
Then he picked
up the headset and
waited for the news to end while he mentally kicked himself for ever
coming to Tuttle in the first place.
Saturday night, Charlie brought her
American
Dreamer
because she'd said
that was her favorite movie, and sat with her on the couch and laughed
and felt better than he had since he'd moved out.
"I miss this," Charlie took her hand when the movie was over. "I miss
watching videos and arguing
with you over the Chinese food and waking
up with you. I miss the physical stuff, too, but I miss
this the most."
"I know." Allie tightened her hand on his, and he paid attention to the
warmth of her grip and the
softness of her skin pressed against his.  "I
want you here so I can tell you things, and so you can
listen to Joe's
jokes."
"Joe's jokes are the worst." Charlie grinned at her and watched her
smile in response, watched the
light in her eyes, and the way her
cheeks bloomed with the smile, and die way her head tilted, just
a
little, toward him. "I miss Joe's jokes a lot."
"Mostly, I just miss having you here." She brushed her cheek against
his shoulder, and he closed his
eyes with pleasure. "You don't even
have to watch the movie or listen to Joe's jokes. Just be here."
He opened his eyes then, and she was so right, so everything he wanted
forever, and he wanted to say,
"I love you, Allie," but it wasn't fair.
He was leaving in a week. It wasn't fair.
It was true, but it wasn't fair.
Maybe Allie would like traveling. Maybe Allie would love him enough to
leave with him in November.
"What's wrong?" she asked softly and he bent to hear her, and that
brought him to her mouth and he kissed her, moving his lips gently
against hers, feeling the surge in his throat and chest and groin, but
feeling the swell in his heart more. Her hand came up to his cheek, and
when the kiss was done she
let her lips travel there and then kissed
his eyelids and then his lips again, and he ached with love for
her. "Why is it," he
whispered against her cheek, "that we didn't start making love until we
stopped sleeping together?"
She shook her head wordlessly and settled into his arms, and he held
her and memorized the weight
and the feel of her, and the scent of her
hair, and soft rhythm of her heart against his, and he felt something
break away inside him, the tension and the guardedness and everything
that had kept him
away from her.
A few minutes later, for the first time in almost three weeks, he fell
dreamlessly asleep.
*  *  *
On Monday, the
Tuttle Tribune
began a series on the history of the city
building, killing forever any
hopes the mayor might have had of
building a new one, and making Charlie a household word once
again.
"That's our boy," Joe said when he saw the first article, and Allie,
remembering a warm, if platonic, weekend, said, "We can only hope."
Later that afternoon, Lisa came to see her. "It's awful, Allie," Lisa
moaned to her in her office.
"I can't do anything right. I hate it. No
matter what I do, Mark thinks it isn't enough or it isn't done
right or
something
."
"So quit." Allie stacked the notes she'd gathered for the drug
legalization show and put them in a folder for Charlie who would
actually read them on his own instead of insisting she explain them to
him the
way Mark had. Thank God, she wasn't stuck with Mark anymore.
She felt positively sympathetic
toward Lisa. "Leave him. You don't have
to take that."
"But it's the
prime-time show
,"
Lisa wailed, and Allie was about to
say, "So what?" when she remembered why that was important. At least,
it had been important to her a month before. And if
Lisa quit, Mark
would offer her the producing spot again. He'd made that very dear. In
fact, knowing Mark as she did,
AUie had a sneaking suspicion he might be forcing Lisa to quit. Then
Bill would ask
her to step in to save the prime-time show.
She shook her head at the thought. Not in a million years. The hell
with prime time. She was doing
better in the middle of the night with
the weirdos and Charlie, a redundant thought if there ever was
one.
"The prime-time show isn't everything," she said to Lisa. "If you're
this unhappy, leave. Ask Marcia
to take you. She's not happy with her
producer."
"And lose the prime-time show?" Lisa stood up. "Oh, no. I'm sticking it
out." Lisa stomped out of
the office, and Allie let her go. She had
enough problems without counseling career-obsessed radio producers.
She had Charlie.
*  *  *
"You know, I've been thinking," Harry said Tuesday afternoon in front
of the TV. "You're still
leaving in November, right?"
"Right," Charlie said with a lot more conviction than he felt.
"Well, then, I'm gonna make my move on Allie."
Charlie spilled his beer. "What?"
Harry held up his hand. "Not until you're gone, of course. Wouldn't
dream of it. But once you're
out of the picture ...well, wouldn't you
rather she was with me than with Mark?"
Charlie scowled at him. "That's Allie's business."
Harry nodded. "Exactly. So I thought I'd ask her to produce my show and
then just see what
developed. It's time I started thinking about
getting married again. I've been thinking about it and
you're right. I
don't think Sheila's coming back.
Charlie took a deep breath. "Well, you never know—"
"Nope." Harry shook his head. "You were right. It's time I moved on
with my life, got a contingency plan. I'd have never thought of it if
it wasn't for you." He gave Charlie a serious nod. "Thanks, buddy."
"No problem," Charlie snarled and got up to get another beer, wondering
why the hell he hadn't
kept his mouth shut.
Back in the living room, Harry grinned and finished his beer.
*  *  *
Wednesday morning, Allie met Joe in the kitchen for breakfast, stopping
in her tracks when she
saw the look on his face.
"This is bad," he said, and handed her the paper.
"Local DJ Former Drug Dealer," the headline flared ather. "Charlie
'Ten'
Tenniel arrested for drug trafficking in Lawreneeville, disappears for
months before arriving in Tuttle as the WBBB wonder
boy. Do we want
this element in our town?"
Allie looked up at Joe and shook her head. "No. Charlie did not deal
drugs. He lived with us. He
doesn't even smoke. His limit is two beers.
He's not a druggie."
Joe sat down. "Look, they've screwed up before, but this time they have
what looks like evidence.
It was in the Lawrenceville paper. They have
quotes from Lawrenceville reporters. There's some
truth somewhere."
"Charlie doesn't do drugs," Allie said firmly. "I don't care what the
paper says."
"All right." Joe sat back. "I've got to admit, that's my gut reaction,
too. But..."
Allie met his eyes. "But nothing. He's innocent."
"But I wish you weren't so involved with him," Joe finished. "I don't
want you hurt. You're
unhappy enough because he's leaving. I don't want
you to feel cheated, too."
"He's innocent." Allie frowned. "I know he's innocent."
*  *  *
Charlie met her in her office that afternoon. "I suppose you've seen
the paper," he said,
and she knew he was watching for her reaction.
"It's not you." She lifted her chin. "I don't know what's going on, but
it's not you."
He leaned in the doorway. "There's a lot of evidence in that article,
Allie. How can you be sure?"
"I know you." She snapped it out with more force than she'd meant to.
"You're not that way.
You wouldn't do that."
Charlie closed his eyes. "I do not deserve you, but I'm damn grateful
just the same."
"Sure you deserve me," Allie said. "Anything you want to tell me before
I start calling everybody
I know in journalism to track this down?"
"No," Charlie said. "Don't call anyone. Just let this be."
Allie gawked at him. "Are you nuts? We have to stop this. We have to—"
"No," Charlie said. "I don't want it stopped."
Allie swallowed and tried again. "Charlie, this will be murder on the
show. Drugs are not classy in
Tuttle. This will kill us."
He winced. "I hadn't thought of that. I'm sorry, Al, I really am, but
don't stop the story. Don't track
it down. Let it play. It's important
to me."
"Why?" The flatness of the question broke the mood they'd shared.
"You'll have to trust me on this," he told her, and her temper broke.
"I have to trust you that you're not a dealer, and I do," she said to
him. "But you can't trust me with
the truth."
"It's not my secret," Charlie said, and the only thing that kept her
from screaming at him was howmiserable he looked. "I'll tell you as
soon
as it's over, but it's not my secret."
"So I'm supposed to just sit here and let that damn article ruin us
both while you keep somebody
else's secret." Allie started to shake
with rage and frustration. "What the hell is going on here?"
Charlie rubbed his hand over the back of his head. "Don't worry about
it. This will be over soon.
"You'll be fine, I swear."
"Right," she snapped. "I'll be fine because I'll be breaking in a new
guy
in a week, and you'll be
fine because you're leaving this mess behind
you, right? We'll all be fine. Great."
"Allie," Charlie began, and she cut him off.
"Go away. Just go away. I don't want to talk about this anymore. Just
leave."
"Allie, this is important." She ignored him, but he went on, anyway. "I
want us to do the show
about legalizing drugs tonight. I want you to be
against it so I can argue for it."
She gaped at him. "Have you lost your mind? After this article..." Her
voice trailed off. "You want
people to think this is true." She sat back
in her chair. "Why?"
"Just for a little while," he told her. "I'm almost there. This article
could do it for me."
"Almost
where?
" Allie's
annoyance blanked everything out. "You can't
possibly think I'm going to
help you ruin this show and my own
reputation without some explanation here. Either tell me what's
going
on, or you're on your own tonight."
Charlie started to say something, and then he sighed, and said, "All
right, that's fair, I'll do it myself,"
and left the office.
Allie put her head down on the desk. The show was ruined, Charlie
didn't trust her, and he was still leaving in November.
And she couldn't think of a damn thing to do about any of it except go
home and cry in Joe's arms.
*  *  *
THE NEXT MONDAY—after three polite work nights and one miserably lonely
weekend, after the
calls to the show had dropped off to hecklers who
wanted to score off Charlie's arrest record and outraged citizens who
wanted him off the air; after Charlie had disappeared for long
stretches of time
and the police had dropped by to see him—things hit
bottom.
Charlie's wife showed up.
She was a little thing, dark and sort of wet with tears, and she was
about seven or eight months'
pregnant. Karen called Allie to the desk
and pointed to her and said, "You're not going to like this.
She's
looking for Ten Tenniel. She says she's married to him."
Not possible
, Allie told
herself, but the list of possibilities for
Charlie had been growing since he'd
refused to defend himself on the
drug charge. She still believed in him, but it was harder.
She went toward the girl. "Hello, I'm Alice McGuffey, Mr. Tenniel's
producer and—"
"Where is he? The girl stood up and looked at her defiantly. "He's my
husband, and I want to see him."
"He's not here right now, but he should be in any time," Allie said.
"Would you like to wait in my office?" She looked around to see Stewart
and Lisa listening in from the hallway. "It's more private there?"
"Where is he?" the girl demanded again, and then with his usual
impeccable timing, Charlie came
through the doors and stopped when he
saw her. "Miranda?"
"Charlie?" She seemed as amazed as he was.
"Don't say anything," Charlie told her, taking her arm. "We can talk
out here."
"Charlie?" Allie said, outraged.
Charlie shoved Miranda out into the hall and pointed at Allie. "You
stay here and stop thinking dumb thoughts. You know me better than
this. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Wait a minute!"
Allie said,
incensed, but he was shoving Miranda into
an elevator by then and she
was left with her own murderous thoughts
and Karen and Stewart and Lisa staring at her with
sympathy and avid
curiosity.
This time she was going to kill him.
But first she was going to find out what the hell was going on.

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