LITMIR.BIZ

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watched Dallas take the drink from him with a slight nod of her head. “Thanks, and make sure you stay close with that clipboard of yours. I can’t possibly write and talk at the same time.”

      “I’ll do my best,” Corey said, though his mood had clearly been taken down a notch.

      It made Cal sick to hear her unfriendly treatment of everyone. Her bossy behavior, flinging orders around as if she was throwing rice at a wedding, like this was just business as usual for her. As far as Cal knew, it was. This was the Dallas he’d always known. Cold, selfish and self-absorbed. It had been the reason why, despite how attracted he was to her, he’d never made an attempt to pursue her.

      When rehearsal was over, and he was packing up the equipment for the day, he heard Dallas backstage as she gathered her things. Corey had run up the side stairs to say good-night. He knew he should turn off the mic, that he really shouldn’t listen in, but curiosity got the better of him.

      “Okay, Ms. Dubois,” he heard Corey say. “That’s it for tonight. Need anything ’fore I leave?”

      “No, that’s fine. Can I see your notes from today?”

      “Oh, um, well...I didn’t really take notes. Nothing really changed, so I didn’t really have any...”

      “God, are you an idiot, too? Why do I always work with idiots? I asked you to take notes of everything we did today.”

      “Oh, I’m, uh...sorry, Ms. Dubois, but we didn’t really do anything but run over what we were already doing in the show. But, um...if you want, I can type up something and email it to you.”

      “Just forget it. I’ll make up the notes myself. Next time just follow my directions.”

      “Sorry, ma’am.”

      Corey was a theater student at Alabama, and his professor was the flu-ridden Ms. Fairbanks, and Cal could bet he was really going to miss her not being at the Bama Theatre every day.

      He’d heard about all he could take. He left the sound booth and headed down to the stage, running into Dallas as she headed back up the aisle to meet her ride outside.

      “You are really something else. I can’t believe you,” he said, stopping right in front of her, his hands folded in front of him.

      “Excuse me? I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I have to be back at the station for the newscast so I’m in a hurry.”

      “Oh, I’m sure you are. But you need to hear a few things before you speed off to your high falutin’ TV job.”

      At well over six feet tall, Cal towered over Dallas—despite the impossibly high heels she was wearing. He used his size to his advantage now, looking down at Dallas with disapproval.

      “You haven’t changed a bit since high school. Some of us actually grew up but not you. You’re still just as full of yourself as you always were.”

      “What the hell do you mean?” Dallas fought back. “You have no idea the stress I’m under. I don’t need this crap. You don’t know anything about me, Cal. You never did.”

      “Well, there’s certainly no excuse to talk to everybody like they need to serve you. That’s disgusting.”

      “Cal, I’m late. If you don’t like what you heard, then quit eavesdropping and turn the mics off when the conversation doesn’t concern you. Now, if you’ll kindly move out of my way, I have a newscast to get to.” Her face was red with anger and, Cal hoped, a little embarrassment at being called out.

      He stepped aside, and she walked past him, her winter-white coat brushing against his pants, her nose in the air as if to let him know she didn’t care one bit.

      Typical, Cal thought, and he stormed off in the opposite direction.

      * * *

      Dallas was fuming as she made her way up the theater aisle. She held her head up as though she didn’t care, but of course she did. She could feel her face growing hot as she made her way outside to Daniel and the van.

      How could her entire world be falling off its axis in just one day? She rode in silence back to the station with Daniel, her eyes stinging, but she wasn’t fixin’ to let even one tear fall. Not until she was in private.

      One more thing and her tough façade might become so damaged that the usual quick fix of puffing out her chest with a deep breath and lifting her nose in the air just wouldn’t work. Just one more thing and it would be too much for one day. But she had no time to think about falling apart. She had a story to introduce on set.

      Dallas arrived back in the newsroom, the Christmas decorations twinkling on the station tree that stood in the corner. A frantic chatter filled the newsroom. It was typical for the time of day, reporters running around and edit bays full as late stories were still being filed. Dallas hurried in at a clip, her heels not slowing her down one bit. Daniel had already edited her story about Miss Peaches. She ran into an empty bay to voice it before it was time to sit on set next to the soon-to-be retiring female anchor and introduce the missing Baby Jesus statue story to the viewers.

      Just as she was wrapping it up and preparing to walk into the live studio, the news assistant delivered a piece of paper with a message to her.

      Please call me. I need to see you.—Mom

      Dallas felt as if she had been pushed off a building. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in twenty years, and now, today of all days, she’d decided to call. Now. This was the “one more thing” that just might break her. How could she go on the air live in two minutes, right after unexpectedly hearing from the mother who had abandoned her so long ago? She shoved the note into her jacket pocket and marched into the studio smiling. Take control, she reminded herself. She knew how to shove down these emotions, and she’d just have to do it again.

      Her mother. Wow. All she knew was that she had no time for her mother now. The same way LouAnn hadn’t had time for Dallas for the past twenty years. LouAnn had never even attempted to make contact with her. She had purely abandoned her. Dallas had no intention of seeing her now, not ever again.

      Still, she was thrown for a loop, her stomach tightening with a painful grip, the years of hurt bubbling up. This was far worse than the confrontation with Cal back at the theater, and she couldn’t believe her bad luck.

      She barely got through the story on TV, a strained smile pulled across her pretty face. When she returned to her seat in the newsroom, her phone on her desk was ringing. She picked it up without even thinking.

      “Dallas Dubois,” she said into the receiver.

      “Dallas, it’s your mother. Please don’t hang up.” LouAnn sounded nervous.

      “Mother. Hi...” she began, then quickly decided there was no need for politeness. “What do you want? I’m really busy.”

      “I need to see you.”

      “I’m sorry. Your timing is really bad. Maybe another time.” Dallas kept her voice cold, showing no emotion.

      This conversation had been years in rehearsal. Dallas had spent a long time imagining that her mother would call her, say she was sorry, maybe cry and beg forgiveness. As she grew older, the pretend conversation took on a different tone, as Dallas grew bitter and developed the hard exterior she’d soon be known for. Now that the moment was finally happening, somehow it wasn’t playing out just as she’d practiced.

      “Please. It’s important,” LouAnn begged.

      “I’m really sorry. But I’ve got important things going on, too. So, call me another time, okay? But not anytime soon.” And with that, Dallas hung up on her.

      A lump swelled in her throat, and she made a beeline to the ladies’ room, locking herself in a stall. Finally alone for a moment, she allowed herself to cry silently into her hands, flushing the toilet over and over to cover the sounds of her anguish in case anyone walking by could hear her. All those years of not hearing her

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