"Thank you for listening to Dawn FM, dead or alive every morning at 7am."
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Set in 1987, Maggie Holmes is hired as a temp placement at Dawn FM for the summer. She gets to know the radio personalities, some more than others. One of the hosts, H...
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On Wednesday, I had been working on my newsletter for the following week. Mr. Watson had approved the one last week about Mr. Beck getting more song requests from audience listeners, and I had submitted the grant application to him as well by Friday. Now, I was rereading some of the edits he had made on the grant application, and trying to add any ideas he may have had. Around one-thirty, there was a knock on my door. I was a little confused, knowing that Harry had left a few hours ago, but I called for the person to come in anyway.
"Hey," Mr. Beck stated.
"Hi," I said back.
"I just wanted to thank you for the shoutout in the newsletter this week. It has really helped with viewers and the audience is pleased."
"That's great to hear," I nodded.
He took it upon himself to sit down in one of the chairs in my office. I was confused, especially since I didn't know him well at all. Of course, when I had first met Harry, I didn't know him well then either, but he didn't give me a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. I didn't know what it was, but there was something about Mr. Beck that just didn't sit well with me.
"So, you'll be at the party this weekend, won't you?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah," I told him. "I'm going with a friend of Harry's."
"Is that so?" Mr. Beck questioned.
"Yeah. He's super nice."
I was just going off of what Harry had told me about Zayn. I had no clue if he really was nice or not, but I was hoping that the fact I had someone going with me would be enough. It was weird that he was even asking if I was going to the party in the first place. Then again, maybe I was just taking it the wrong way. That, or maybe I wasn't reading into it after all.
"That's too bad."
"Why?"
"I was thinking I could maybe take you," he told me. "Nice little evening together at the station party wouldn't be too terrible."
I stared up at him. I wanted to understand what he was thinking. If I had just told him that I had another date, why did he think I would be interested in going with him? Plus, he had been a complete and total creep since I first met him, so sure, maybe he would have a great time but I certainly would not. Not to mention the fact that, as I had already said, I had a date so why would he proceed to make any mention of him taking me to the affair when I clearly didn't want to attend with him and had an entire date already.
"Aren't you married?" I asked. "I'm very religious, I don't do the whole other woman thing."
"I'm divorced," he shrugged. "We just finalized it a few weeks ago."
Once he said it, I recalled the words. It had come right after he mentioned that I looked like all of the victims the last time. It made me irrevocably uncomfortable to think about, but I think what was even worse was the fact that he was so adamant that he was divorced. Who cared? I certainly didn't, and just because he was divorced did not mean he was suddenly a hot commodity now. Maybe for someone, but that someone certainly was not me.
