Tony Partly Cloudy (23 page)

Finally, dressed in his best suit, and with every hair on his head frozen in place by an invisible helmet of hairspray, Tony left Wardrobe on a frantic search for Chip. He found him hanging out with some cameramen on the news set.

“Chip – thank God I found you,” Tony said. “I gotta talk to you.”

Chip broke away from his conversation with the crew, and approached Tony, looking him up and down. He smiled and said, “Looking good, Tony. You clean up pretty nice – who’d have thunk it?”

“Thanks, I guess,” Tony said. “That Maggie is a real artist with that stuff, I gotta say. But listen – we need to talk.”

Tony’s serious tone got Chip’s attention. “Sure,” he said, “what’s up?”

“It’s about the forecast. You know, the one you gave me?”

“What about it?” Chip asked. “Is my handwriting that bad?”

“No, no – that’s not it. It’s fine. It’s just that... well, it’s just that I see things a little, uh, differently.”

Chip frowned. “Differently how? I mean, it’s all on the charts. Nothing much there, just some more cold weather, with some wind and a few clouds. Typical stuff for the region. So what’s the problem? What do you, as you put it,
see differently
?”

Tony mumbled something, looking away.

“What was that?” Chip asked. “I didn’t catch what you just said.”

Tony spoke only slightly louder. “Lake effect snow.”

Chip said, “Did you just say
lake effect snow
? You think it’s going to
snow
? Have you ever even
seen
lake effect snow?”

Tony’s eyes remained downcast. “Well, not in person, no. But I studied it in school, and I read up on it some more at the NWS.”

Chip smirked. “Get a lot of snow in Key West, did you?”

“Listen, Chip, I—”

“Tony, I’ve been doing the weather here for almost ten years, right next to one of the biggest lakes in the world. I’ve seen my share of lake effect snow. I know what the signs are, and we ain’t got ‘em – not in any of the current readings.” Chip reached out, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“You’re trying too hard. You want this forecast to be something dramatic, something memorable. But you’re reaching with this one. For a lake effect snow event, we’d need a low pressure center passing to our southeast, along with – well hell, you know what’s required. Do you see it in the charts? Or on any of the instruments?”

Tony looked sheepish. “No,” he said, “not yet.”

“Not
yet
?”

“That’s right, not yet. But I think that will change. That’s what I’m getting at. I know conditions right now don’t indicate it, but I got a feeling that’s about to change.”

Chip reared back, hands on hips. “A
feeling
? You want to tell our audience it’s going to snow, because you have a
feeling
?” Contempt was sneaking into Chip’s voice, mixed with disbelief.

Tony picked up on it. “Come on, Chip,” he said, “give me some credit. Yeah, it’s partly a feeling, but it’s also a matter of interpretation. You look at the maps and the readings, and you draw one conclusion. I look at them, and I see it shaping up a different way. But you’ve worked with me long enough to know I’m not half bad at this stuff.”

Chip’s expression softened. “No, you’re not half bad,” he said. “You’re a damn fine meteorologist. I take your input seriously, and I think you know that. But in this instance, I just don’t think you’re in a very strong position, and for a couple of reasons. For one thing, the snowfall you’re predicting will only happen if several things change in the current atmospheric conditions. And all those changes would have to happen in just a certain way, at just a certain time. Then maybe – just maybe – you’d get your lake effect snow. But it’s a long shot.”

“Go on,” Tony said sullenly.

“What do you mean, go on?”

Tony said, “You said there were a couple reasons my position wasn’t strong. What’s the second reason?”

Chip sighed. “The second reason is that you’ve been told to deliver
my
forecast, not yours. And I stand by my forecast.”

Tony shook his head. Concentrating on speaking calmly and deliberately, he said, “Okay, Chip. You win. But I’ll tell you this. If by some strange chance I actually get this freakin’ job, this is the last time I will ever read somebody else’s forecast. Ever.”

Chip held his hands out. “Hey, we’ve been over this. You know this wasn’t my call. If it were up to me, I’d let you go out there and step all over your dick by predicting snow. Because although I disagree with your forecast, I agree with you in principle.” Chip stopped, checking his watch. “Christ, Tony, you’re up.” He held his wrist up for Tony to see.

Tony stared at Chip’s watch, shocked to find it was almost time for the broadcast to begin.

“Holy shit, you’re right. Okay, Chip – thanks for listening to me. I really appreciate it. I know what I gotta do, and it’s not a problem, honest. But I appreciate that I can be frank with you. And more than that, I appreciate that you’re frank with me, even when you’re not telling me what I want to hear.”

“I call ‘em like I see ‘em,” Chip said.

The two men shook hands, and Tony hurried over to the weather portion of the news set, where Maggie blotted at his face with one of her little powder sponges.

♠ ♥ ♣ ♦

“...
and tonight, filling in for Chief Meteorologist Chip Randall, our very own behind-the-scenes weather producer, Tony Bartolicotti
.”

With that, the red light on top of Camera 3 began to glow. Then it swung around until it was pointed directly at Tony. Here goes nothing, he thought.

Looking at Camera 3, he said, “Good evening. This is the WEFQ Weather Watch, and I’m Tony Bartolicotti.” From habit, Tony shrugged and said, “I know, it’s a mouthful. My friends, they call me Tony Partly Cloudy. You know, on account of me being a weatherman and all.”

Tony became aware of shadowy figures behind Camera 3 waving frantically, gesturing for him to get on with the forecast.

“Anyways,” Tony said, adjusting his necktie, “Whaddaya say we take a look at the weather situation?” At this point, Tony had been coached to turn to face Camera 2. He did so, and was thrilled to see the red light go on above the camera just as he began to speak.

“First, let’s take a look at what’s going on around the country, starting with some temperatures. The highs today were down in Florida. Miami had temperatures in the low eighties – sounds like another rough day in paradise, know what I mean? Now on the other end of things, we got Fargo, North Dakota, where it was – are you ready for this? – twelve below zero.” Tony crossed his arms and clutched himself in a mock shiver, blowing out air through his mouth like a horse. “Now that is pretty freakin’ cold, you ask me.”

Tony thought he heard one of the cameramen clear his throat, but he was gaining momentum, and getting caught up in his work. If there was one thing he liked to do, it was talk about the weather.

And talk he did.

He pointed out thunderstorms in Texas. “You see these little squiggly things here? They’re supposed to be lightning bolts – you know, to represent thunderstorms. But to me they always look like Z’s, you know, like the ones they show over people’s heads in cartoons when they’re snoring...”

He called the audience’s attention to some snowfall in Colorado. “These little snowflake symbols remind me of the paper snowflakes I made when I was a kid, back in Brooklyn. You know, where you fold up the paper a bunch of times, and then cut these little nicks and notches in it with scissors, and then when you unfold it, bada bing, it looks like some humongous snowflake? Man, I loved making those!”

And so it went, with Tony gathering momentum as he spoke. Finally it was time to give the local forecast. Tony launched into it, pointing at the computer-generated diagrams and reciting the expected temperatures and Chip’s snow-free predictions.

Then he stopped.

Tony tugged at his collar, and stretched his sizable chin first to the left, then to the right. Staring into the lens below the glowing red light on Camera 1, Tony leaned forward, addressing his audience in a confidential tone.

“Listen. I gotta tell you. This forecast here – that’s not what I think is gonna happen...”

“Son of a bitch!” Chip yelled, slamming his hand on one of the editing consoles in the control room. Startled crewmembers looked up at him, then looked back at their monitors, watching in disbelief as Tony gave his version of the forecast.

“The way I see it,” Tony said, “we got a good chance of seeing a phenomenon called
lake effect snow
. It’s kinda complicated, but what happens is that if there’s a low pressure center down about here...” Tony pointed at the onscreen map, “we could get a northeast wind flow, and then that wind flow would pick up moisture off of our pal Lake Michigan here...” Tony continued to point at the map as he spoke. “And then, bada bing, bada boom – you got snow. Lots of freakin’ snow.”

Tony held up his hand as if to silence any argument. “Now, it’s been pointed out to me that we don’t have a low pressure center that would trigger all this. And that’s true – we don’t have it –
yet
. But if you look here...” Tony suddenly shifted to the US map, causing a brief scramble in the editing room until Camera 2 picked him up. “This is all kinda complicated,” Tony continued, “but we got conditions over here...” another gesture, “that would actually cause the very low pressure center I’m talking about.”

Chip watched in silence from the editing room as Tony explained his logic. It was a long shot, but what Tony said
was
true, in theory. And Chip hadn’t seen it when preparing the forecast.

“Anyways,” Tony said, clapping his hands together as if dusting them off. “What I’m telling you is only the way
I
see it. My boss thinks we’re all clear, and he’s a great meteorologist. So I may be wrong. And I probably just totally ruined my shot at this job. But I gotta tell you what
I
think is going to happen, and the bottom line is, I think we’re looking at some pretty serious snow in the next twenty-four hours, and I wanted you folks to know about it.”

Tony spread his hands in a
what can I do
gesture. “I’m Tony Partly Cloudy, and like a good friend of mine says: I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

Tony pointed an imaginary gun at the pretty co-anchor across the soundstage from him, firing it with his thumb as he said, “Back to you, Amber.” After an open-jawed moment, Amber regained her composure and launched into her wrap-up segment.

Watching from his Rockford home, Dale Fletcher howled with manic laughter. Then he got up to refill his bourbon glass.

Miles away in a Chicago penthouse, Jimmy Carbone turned off the television with a click of his remote, sadly shaking his head.

PAUSING ONLY LONG ENOUGH TO UNCLIP HIS MICROPHONE, Tony stormed out of the studio, got in his car, and drove away, tires squealing.

The message light was blinking on his answering machine when he got home. He turned the volume down on the machine, and reached for the phone to turn off its ringer, but the phone rang as he did so. The caller ID panel showed the caller to be Sarah. He picked up the cordless phone from its cradle.

“Hello?”

“Tony, it’s Sarah. Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m great. Absolutely freakin’ great.”

After a pause, Sarah said, “You left so fast, nobody got a chance to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t really deal with anybody right then. I figure I’ll come in tomorrow, you know, to get my things.”

“You think Fletcher will fire you?”

“That’s how I figure. I disobeyed a direct order.”

“Tony, this isn’t the military...”

“No, but they made it real clear to me what they wanted me to do, and I didn’t do it.” Tony carried the phone with him as he crossed the apartment and flopped down on the couch. “But you wanna know something funny?”

“What’s that?” Sarah asked.

“I was going to do what they told me. Honest – I really was. I had thought it over, and had decided to just shut up and give Chip’s forecast. When my slot started, I was totally planning to just toe the line and do what I’d been told.”

“So what made you change your mind?”

Tony sighed. “It was weird, you know? I started talking, and I was looking at the camera and all, and it felt kinda...
good
. I wasn’t even nervous or nothing. I mean, the audience is just people, am I right? And I’m pretty good with people, at least that’s what people tell me.”

“You are,” Sarah said. “You’ve got a great personality. Everybody at the station loves you.”

Tony laughed. “Well, I don’t know about Fletcher. Or Chip, for that matter. Although he did tell me beforehand he agreed with me,
in principle
. Still, I doubt he was very happy with what I did. Anyways, let me get back to what I was saying. So I’m on camera, and I’m talking, and I’m feeling pretty good. And not only that, I’m talking about my absolute favorite subject – the weather. I mean, you know me – I really love this stuff.”

“I know.”

“So there I am, talking about this thing that I love so much, that I care so much about. And suddenly I just couldn’t see having to
think
so freakin’ hard about every little thing I say, or worry about what my voice sounds like, or any of that. I mean, if people are gonna like me, they’re gonna have to like me the way I am. ‘Cause I don’t think I’m a good enough actor to make them think I’m much different, you know what I’m saying?”

“I think so,” Sarah said.

“So anyways, this all sounds like a load of crap when I try to describe it, but what I’m trying to say is... well, I guess I basically just said
fuck it
.”

Sarah couldn’t help but laugh at this. “Sorry, Tony, it’s not that this is funny, but—”

“No, don’t worry about it. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s not that I didn’t care – it was that I cared so much. I really care about the weather. So for me to get up there and say stuff I don’t believe, about something I care so much about – it seemed like, I don’t know... kind of
sacrilegious
, almost. Does that make any sense?”

“Actually,” Sarah said, “from what I’m learning about you, it does make sense. A lot of sense.”

“So anyways, I just decided to talk the way I talk, and to give the forecast the way I see it. I mean, this is probably the only shot a guy like me is going to get. So I decided to just be myself. I realize that probably isn’t what they’re looking for, but hey – at least I was being honest. I’m not ashamed of what I did.”

“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Tony. I’m proud of what you did.”

“Honest?”

“Yeah, honest.”

“Well, the funny thing that I was trying to convey, was that all that stuff I just talked about happened in just one split second. As soon as I started the forecast, I just had this – what do you call it – that thing where all of a sudden you understand something? It’s like
epilepsy
, only it’s not a disease or nothing.”

“I think you mean
epiphany
,” Sarah said, restraining a giggle.

“Yeah, that’s it. An epiphany. All at once I just
got
it, you know? It actually felt kind of good. I mean, I actually had
fun
giving that forecast, even if I did just commit career suicide.”

“It seemed like you were having fun,” Sarah said. “I watched you, and couldn’t help notice the way you kept smiling. And it wasn’t one of those phony anchorman smiles. You looked genuinely happy.”

“You know what? I was.”

“I’m glad.”

“Well, I don’t know how glad you’ll be to be dating an unemployed meteorologist.”

“Tony, if that happens, it happens. I’m proud of what you did. I’m behind you on this – you know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I do. That means a lot to me, Sarah.”

The two remained contentedly silent for a long moment. Then Tony said, “I just hope Chip doesn’t feel like I disrespected him.”

“Well, you said he agreed with you in principle, right?”

“That’s what he
said
. But that was before I went up there and told everybody it was going to snow.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll see what kind of man he is, based on how he reacts.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Tony said.

“So,” Sarah said, “would you like some company?”

“Actually, I think I’m better off just being alone for a while, if that’s okay with you. I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to see you. It’s just I got a lot on my mind right now, and I’m in kind of a funny mood. So I don’t know how much fun I’d be.”

“You don’t have to worry about being
fun
around me. Just be yourself. You go ahead and relax. If you want me to come over, just call me, okay?”

“Okay, it’s a deal. And Sarah?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks. For everything. I’m not used to being around somebody who supports me like you do.”

“You like it?”

“I like it a lot. I like
you
a lot.”

Sarah said, “Then my fiendish plan is working. Good night, Tony Partly Cloudy.”

“Good night.”

Tony switched off the phone’s ringer, and laid it down in its cradle on the answering machine, double-checking that the volume was turned all the way down. He really didn’t want to hear anybody else’s reaction to his audition at the moment. Maybe tomorrow.

♠ ♥ ♣ ♦

When Fletcher arrived the next day, Claudette looked even more dour than usual.

“Good morning, Claudette,” he said. “Is anything wrong?”

“Good morning, Mr. Fletcher. Let’s just say you have a
lot
of messages.”

Fletcher smiled wryly. “I’m not surprised.”

“And Chip Randall and Nancy Roland both have expressed an interest in meeting with you as soon as possible.”

“Chip is here already?” This was unusual. With both his broadcasts being evening slots, Chip was rarely at the studio before noon. But Fletcher had been expecting to hear from Nancy Roland – she was in charge of public relations for the studio.

“Okay,” Fletcher said. “Plug Nancy into the first hole in my schedule this morning, and then fit Chip in afterwards.”

Claudette hesitated. “Well, actually, they’ve asked to see you together, not separately.”

“Whatever,” Fletcher said. “Might as well get this over with. I knew there’d be fallout from last night. Let me know what time to expect them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Fletcher walked past Claudette, entering his office and closing the door behind himself. This was not going to be fun, he knew.

At ten-thirty, Claudette ushered Chip and Nancy into Fletcher’s office. As they were seated, Fletcher noted that Chip looked exhausted, and Nancy, a cheerful woman in her forties, was unusually reserved. She held a thick stack of paper in one hand, nervously ruffling the edges with her other hand.

Fletcher decided to lead off without small talk. “I assume this is about last night.” Both Chip and Nancy nodded their assent.

Fletcher gestured toward the stack of paper Nancy held. “And I take it we got a few phone calls?”

Nancy looked at the bundle of papers she had been fidgeting with. “More than a few,” she said. Chip seemed to smile at this comment, which struck Fletcher as odd.

Fletcher said, “Well, go ahead and hit me with it. How many complaints did we get?”

Nancy winced. “Well, we’re still getting calls and e-mails. Last I checked, we had nearly a hundred complaints.”

Fletcher laughed. “Well then, it’s not as bad as I thought. Frankly I was expecting even more of a reaction, given our market size. I mean, after what happened, I—”

“Er, excuse me, Mr. Fletcher,” Nancy said, interrupting. “We did get more messages than that. Some we got were from people who... who
liked
Tony’s broadcast.”

“Really?” Fletcher said, arching his eyebrows. “Well, there’s no accounting for taste, is there? So, how many of those calls did we get?” He eased back in his chair, reaching for his coffee cup.

Nancy cleared her throat. “Well, it’s hard to tell – the unexpected volume of calls caught our switchboard unprepared, so we’re still playing back the voicemails. And we’re just getting started on the e-mails. But at last count, we were up to almost three thousand.”

Fletcher choked on his coffee, sputtering and spraying his desk, narrowly missing Chip.

“What did you say?” Fletcher asked, once he regained control of his esophagus.

Nancy finally allowed herself to smile. “Nearly three thousand. People love this guy – he’s a hit!”

This was not a word used lightly in broadcast news, and Fletcher and Nancy both knew it.

“Tony Bartolicotti was a
hit
?” Fletcher said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Nancy’s smile broadened. “Don’t you mean
Tony Partly Cloudy
?”

Fletcher sat dazed behind his desk, absently wiping up spattered coffee with a tissue. Chip seized the opportunity to speak. “There’s more,” he said.

This got Fletcher’s attention. “What do you mean?”

Now Chip was smiling, too. “Have you looked outside recently?”

Fletcher spread his hands. “What are you talking about?” Despite his position at WEFQ, his second-story office had no windows, in keeping with the boxlike architecture that characterized many television studios.

Chip stood up. “You should see this. Follow me.”

Without waiting for Fletcher to respond, Chip walked out of the office, toward the closest window. Nancy trailed close behind. Rather than be left alone in his office, Fletcher got up and followed them. The three came to a stop in front of a large window that looked down on the street below. But the black asphalt of the street was disappearing from view, covered with a nearly opaque white blanket of snow. The air was thick with large, fluffy snowflakes.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Fletcher said, in a soft, almost reverent voice. “It’s... it’s actuallly snowing out there.”

“It sure as hell is,” Chip said. “Just like Tony said it would. And we’re just now getting it. You should see Chicago – they’ve already got nearly ten inches!”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Fletcher said, causing Nancy’s eyebrows to rise, and Chip’s smile to grow wider. Shaking his head, Fletcher turned and walked back to his office, closing his door behind him.

Chip turned to Nancy. “So I take it this meeting is adjourned.”

Nancy laughed. “This one is. But I suspect there will be a few more meetings before the day is over. He just needs to get over the initial shock.” Drawing closer to Chip, she lowered her voice and said, “So, has anybody seen Tony yet? I heard he bolted right after his slot last night.”

Chip shook his head. “No sign of him, and I can’t get him to answer his phone.”

“Well, if you see him or hear from him, let me know. We need to talk to him, ASAP.”

“Agreed,” Chip said. “Hey, did you see him last night?”

“No, I missed it. But I watched a tape of it this morning, when I found out what was going on.”

“So, what did you think?”

Nancy smiled. “To be honest, I thought he was adorable.” Waving the stack of paper she still clutched, she said, “And apparently I’m not alone.”

♠ ♥ ♣ ♦

Tony was running late. After taking a quick shower, he was shocked to find his face streaked with some weird tan residue. Then he realized he had gone to bed without taking off the makeup Maggie had so expertly applied. The stuff seemed impervious to soap and water, and it was another twenty minutes of scrubbing followed by a second shower before his face was back to normal.
Madonn
’, he thought, how do women deal with this day after day?

Finally ready, he locked his door behind him and raced down the stairs. Stepping through the apartment building’s entry way, he was blinded by an expanse of white.

Snow. On the ground, in the air; everywhere. Snow.

“Holy fucking shit,” said Tony, witnessing his first case of
lake effect snow
.