Talking About Sex...

“Yeah, she got a kick out of your show tonight. She was still listening when I left home.”

“Tell her I appreciate the support. Every listener counts.”

“Will do.” Jared glanced up at Katie as he adjusted the headset. “Have a good weekend.”

“Thanks.” Katie gave him a wave as she slipped out the door and walked down to the hall to the station’s modest lobby.

“Great show,” said Ava Dinsmore, KRZE’s most recent intern from Pima College. Interns worked well for KRZE, which operated on a tight budget.

Ava obviously understood tight budgets. On her twenty-second birthday she’d decided to go back to school and climb out of the minimum-wage rut. She favored multiple piercings and an ever-changing rainbow of hair colors, so radio was a more logical venue for her than TV.

Besides being a general gofer, she covered the switchboard in the mornings and every evening until the station signed off. “You had lots of calls,” she said.

“I know! Wasn’t the response terrific? We even had to bleep out some language. I loved it.”

“You got a few personal calls, too.” Ava picked up several slips of paper.

Katie made no move to take the messages. Ava lived for moments of drama, which included reading messages aloud instead of handing them over. From the beginning Katie had admired Ava’s ability to talk clearly with her tongue stud.

“First priority, Edgecomb called. The owners are pissed about tonight’s show. They’re afraid the negotiations with Livingston Development will go south.”

“Good! Then Livingston can build its precious parking garage somewhere else.”

“Yeah, like on the lot on the other side of us, with the station sandwiched in between. Our signal will be ruined, regardless.”

“That’s why we have to stop all the construction! I’m not accepting defeat yet.”

“Edgecomb wants you to accept defeat. He wants you to go back to the original format—sex toys, foreplay techniques, stuff like that.”

“Last night I reviewed two adult videos and interviewed a topless dancer.”

“I know.” Ava’s spiked hair didn’t move when she nodded. “But in between you’ve been dissing the construction. And tonight the whole show was about that. Edgecomb wants you to cut it out.”

“We’ll see.” On Monday night Katie had a guest scheduled who would talk about the sexual significance of hardware items like bolts, screws and nuts, which would give her an opening for more anticonstruction comments. She really wanted to do that show.

“As Edgecomb put it, you can rag on this project all you want—on your own time.” Ava’s grin was framed by purple lip gloss. “I have to give you credit, though. I never would have dreamed you’d find a way to connect sex with construction.”

“Google is a girl’s best friend.” But the leap had been an easy one. Jess Harkins and sex were forever linked in her mind, although she’d take splinters under her fingernails before admitting to anyone at the station that she had a personal grudge against the general contractor for the project.

“I would love to be a fly on the wall when somebody tells that builder about tonight’s show. Can you imagine some manly construction dude being called a wimpy-dick on the air? Good thing your phone number’s unlisted.”

“I didn’t call him a wimpy-dick.” Katie smiled her secret smile. “That was Dr. Astorbrooke’s theory, not mine.” She hoped the word would get back to Jess, though. Served him right.

“Yeah, I noticed that you protected yourself nicely.” Ava’s dimples flashed. “So are you gonna ease up on the smear campaign?”

Not on your life. “I’ll talk to Edgecomb.” Katie checked the clock on the wall. “What were the other messages?”

“One was from Cheryl, who said—” Ava paused to read from the message “—‘Give ’em hell, Katie. Let’s go for margaritas at six tomorrow. Usual place.’” Ava looked up. “She said a bunch more stuff, but that was the gist.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“Can I come?”

“Sure, why not?” Katie suspected that Ava was outgrowing her regular crowd of slackers and wanted to find a different group to hang with. Katie and her best friend Cheryl, a trial lawyer, might look pretty good to Ava right now.

“Great! Thanks.”

“It’ll be fun. Any more messages?”

“Uh, yeah. Your mother wants to know why you’re picking on that nice Harkins boy.”

“Oh.” She heard the sound of a second shoe dropping. Obviously Ava had saved that message for last. She was like a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out juicy gossip. Doggone Mom anyway.

Cheryl knew better than to leave any incriminating messages with Ava, but Mom…well, she’d always liked having Jess around. She’d been upset when Katie had broken up with him. She might even want people at the station to know he was an ex-boyfriend.

Ava eyed Katie with interest. “I’m assuming she means the guy who runs Harkins Construction.”

“Um, yeah.”

“Your mom knows him?”

Katie thought quickly. She hadn’t wanted anybody at the station to figure out her connection with Jess, but thanks to dear old Mom, Ava already had an idea there was one. If Katie didn’t come clean, Ava might start to speculate, which could be worse.

Moving closer to Ava’s desk, Katie lowered her voice. “Listen, this can’t become common knowledge.”

“You can trust me.” Ava’s dark eyes gleamed.

“I’m serious. If this information gets out, it could be really bad for me.”

“It won’t get out.”

“Good.” She had to hope that Ava was highly motivated to continue the friendship and be invited to future happy hours with her and Cheryl. “Back in high school I dated Jess Harkins my senior year.”

Ava blinked. “No shit. Wow. I guess it didn’t work out, huh?”

“No, it didn’t.”

“Um, are you into revenge or something?”

“No.” She kept telling herself it wasn’t revenge. Justice was more like it. Protecting what was rightfully hers. “It’s one of those crazy coincidences.”

“But you said he was sexually compensating by putting up that high-rise. That sounds like you have an ax to grind.”

“Remember, I didn’t say he was. Dr. Astorbrooke—”

“I know, I know. But you’re the one who invited her to be on the show. Was he that bad in bed?”

“Ava, I’m not going to answer that.” Katie realized that in trying to prevent gossip, she might have made things worse.