NIP 5

“Oh god, how awful. Are you feeling better now? Drink some water. Maybe you should call Dr. Stewart and schedule a check up. It could be your blood pressure…”

“No, no, it’s not anything like that my crazy hypochondriac sista. And stop talking so fast. You’ve had coffee. The Sari coffee curse has already kicked in and I am the maddened recipient. Oh joy.” Lizi must be feeling better if she is picking on me. “Anyway, this is not physical. It felt almost emotional. It’s strange. It’s nothing. I just needed to hear a friendly voice. So sweetie pie…I am going to phone Ainslie. She’ll nurse my psychosis.”

“Hey!” I feign annoyance. “Go for it. Call Ainslie. BUT you better have freshly made blueberry pancakes served on Leonardo Dicarpio naked ass at her door once she picks up that phone!” As I start chuckling I realize I have only amused myself. Typical.

"I’m closing you down caffeine junkie.” Lizi is mildly amused by my wit, I can tell. “So I’ll see you tomorrow night. I am picking the spot this week. No suggestions please. My pick! Expect my text message. Later sis.”

Ah yes, our weekly sister dinner. This dinner is only to be missed for three reasons. One, hot date but must call with details as soon as hot date is over. Two, hospitalization and then dinner will be brought bedside. Three, walking down the street you haphazardly run into Vince Vaughn and end up in his bed, in which case we have sworn to wait for as long as it takes at the restaurant for the lucky glowing sister to show up and divulge all details. This is serious…we have had dinner together once a week for 7 years.

“Feel better Lizi. I love you. Say hi to Ainslie for me. Can’t wait to hear how that call plays out!” I hang up with a smirk.

Calling Ainslie this early is sheer lunacy. Lizi is not awake in the mornings whereas Ainslie is awake and absolutely furious about it. If you cross her path too soon you are a goner. She’ll attack you with big words and complete sentences!

Ainslie is the brainiac of the family. She has the innate ability to retain information. Useful information, unlike me, I retain everything celebrity. A natural born scholar, Ainslie has as appetite for all subjects of real world importance. Which explains why at 27 years old she is an award winning health care lobbyist in Illinois. Ainslie confidently grabs the attention of and ruthlessly battles elite politicians until they agree (often times reluctantly) to sign the bill offering free health care to all children provided by the state. This aggressive lashing is what one will receive if Ainslie is bothered before her morning primping is complete. I laugh out loud thinking about Lizi calling Ainslie this minute.

The cabbie knocking on the partition summons me back to reality. I pay him his fare, collect all of my bags and head into the ABC building. I love trotting into this building. I feel so inspired, so successful, so full of energy and charisma.

“Top of the morning to ya Miss Clarke.” Frank, the ABC doorman, greets as I walk through the lobby.

“Good morning to you Frank.” I adore him. Frank has been the doorman here for 42 years. He is the eyes and ears of everything ABC in Chicago. Frank tells captivating stories from the past and the present, only if you are one of his favorites. I am. I am drawn to gossip…it is my downfall.

“Miss Clarke if I didn’t know you as well as I do I would think you were off to the airport with all of those bags.” Frank reaches out to help me with my bags.

“I know! A girl has to be prepared.” I smile. “I do look a little silly, huh?”

“Not even a little Miss Clarke.” Frank winks.

“So tell me…anyone or anything cool running here on the morning news?” I brace myself for his response. I have bumped into Cirque du Soleil performers, celebrities, musicians, prodigies and even animals - domestic and wild.

“I regret to inform you not this morning Miss Clarke. However, there is a playground colon being built behind the studio.”

“Oh really…okay.” We exchange the ‘ick’ look. What a strange way to entice people to get a colonscopy…having kids slide through plastic intestines of a giant colon.

“Have a nice day Miss Clarke.” Frank waves as I step into the elevator.

“You too, Frank.” I press the number 57 and I am on way to the newsroom. I feel elated and alive. Each and every day I come to work I feel I am right where I am suppose to be. Finally. I have begun to achieve my goals and dreams. I am a reporter! And to think only two years ago I was the traffic girl on WBBM 780AM drive-time show, then worse, the phone girl for the ABC city news desk and now the 57th floor…here I am! Another day of surprising twists and turns to uncover the truth. I dramatically exhale as I step out of the elevator…

“SARI! Fucking it’s about time! Let’s go. Turn, turn around and get back in that elevator. Let’s go!” Orders Sam as he is shoves me not caring about the fact that all his camera equipment is beating the crap out me. I lose my balance and stumble into the elevator.

“What is going on!?!” I am dumbfounded and unsure if I feel mad at Sam, annoyed or possibly a bit entertained.

“Big story! HUGE!! This is the stuff I dream about. This scoop is going to catapult us right into news history!” The euphoria in Sam’s eyes is slightly contagious albeit it disturbing.

“Wow. So what is the story? What happened?” I feel my face turn red. I am the reporter…I should be getting scoops not taking cues from my burly cameraman. Though, this is not the first time. Sam has all the answers, he always does. A very annoying quality.

“A tip came through on your line…”

“My line? You answered my phone?” Ahhh, this is MY scoop.

“Yeah, I had a hunch. It was ringing off the hook…it got to me. I had to pick it up. Don’t look so pissed hun. I was waiting for you at your desk to go to that stupid tradeshow.” I roll my eyes and Sam shrugs. “Get this…you are not going to believe it. I still can’t believe it and it was my ears that danced with joy when I heard the news! A unanimous source called in and said a woman was brutally raped and murdered in Lincoln Park Zoo.” He stares at me waiting for my dazzled reaction. I draw in a deep breath.

“Oh my god, how awful.” I shiver. “Last night?” Inert is my mind and body as I struggle to register what I am hearing.

“Yes, but it gets better. Can you believe it gets better!?! Apparently, she is hanging on the monkey cage. Mutilated and naked. We are first to the scene!”

My stomach flips and I feel slightly light-headed. I run my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath. The monkeys are my favorite. Chills run up my spine. Dizzy. My eyes fall on Sam’s cocky smile. My skin quickly warms to a boil and my heartbeat cues rage. “SAM! Goddamn. Have some compassion. God, what is wrong with you!” I turn my head in disgust. I cannot even look at him. Poor woman. My blood is boiling. His excitement is out of line. I know this is our job but we can do it with some empathy for crying out loud!

“Oh shut up. In the van now.” Sam demands practically ripping my arm off dragging me into the van. “She is probably a prostitute….get off your fucking high horse.” He flings his equipment in the van and sprints around to the driver’s seat. I grab the straps of my bags…

“Thanks Frank.” Eyes and ears, Frank followed us out of the building to help me with my bags. Now there is a gentleman.

“Come on Sari! Get in! We gotta move. Do you not understand our goal here?” He has replaced misguided elation with mockery. Wonderful.

“Alright Sam. I am trying to get organized. You caught me off guard.” I am composed. I am a journalist, damnit.

I sit in the back of the van and take a sneak peek of myself in a mirror. I have to make sure I am camera ready…especially under these chaotic circumstances.

“Is the equipment set up for a live feed?” I figure if I talk shop I can avoid any sort of real conversation with him. I have had enough.

“Oh lady jane…never underestimate my value. And, never forget, I am the one who is looking out for you missy. I know exactly what I am doing. You just focus on your pretty little face and clever words. This is our shining moment. I know I am not going to be the one to fuck it up.” Sam is as cool as a cucumber and as cold as ice. Now I have really had enough.

“Why are you so…so…so…so hostile?!? Before this morning you were actually starting to be nice to me. Is there a bipolar switch on you or something?” I am bemused. In about one minute I am going to lose my cool and let him know he is seriously working my nerves.

“I have the fire inside. Big story Sari. You need to toughen up otherwise all the other reporters in this city and those clamoring to get to this city are going to eat you alive. You’ll be back taking calls at the desk! Or better yet…selling newspaper subscriptions over the phone!” Sam laughs hysterically at his own joke.

In the few months I have been working with Sam all I know is he’s in his mid-40s and a sour crab by nature which I usually chalk up as comical but today none of this is remotely funny.

What a jerk. I meet Sam’s gaze with a blank pout.

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