"Snowfall in Seattle" – Chapter One

by Lucia Logan

Christopher Booth arched his back with a soft groan.  Not as young as I used to be, he thought wryly, can't go all night the way I used to without feeling it.  But the glow of accomplishment felt good – he'd gotten the outline for the next month of programming finished, and drafted half of the weekly 'Single in Seattle' features.  A glance out the window of his small office revealed only a swirling haze of white.  The ubiquitous radio feed in the background had provided a steady update on the rare January snowstorm for hours, and it showed no signs of letting up any time soon.  Most of the non-air staff had left early to try and avoid the worst of the inevitable traffic gridlock, but the loft apartment Chris had leased since moving to Seattle was within walking distance of the station, and Shiloh never cared how late he got home.

Rolling his shoulders, Chris blinked until he could focus on the digital clock across the room, wondering if he was going to need reading glasses soon.  He was surprised to discover it was nearly nine o'clock.  He’d known he'd be able to get a lot of work done without the frequent interruptions from co-workers who wanted to ask his advice or needed help with research or just wanted to shoot the breeze for a while.  Not that he minded helping, or chatting for that matter, but sometimes he felt he was doing more socializing than working.

His computer shut down and his coat over his arm, Chris clicked off the office lights and closed the door behind him, nearly walking into Zak Cowan, the overnight producer, who was barreling down the hallway with even more energy than usual.  "Chris!" the younger man shouted, grabbing the editor by the shoulder.  "Thank God you haven't left yet!  You've got to help me out – we go live in ten minutes and She just called to say she can't make it in!"

Zak didn't have to explain who "She" was – Estrela Lopez, the temperamental host of KLTR's most popular feature, 'Making Love,' was known around the station as "She Who Must Be Obeyed".  It wasn't a term of affection.  The fiery Latina was demanding, inconsiderate, and sometimes outright rude, but she drew the highest ratings of any program on the schedule with her nightly call-in show of sexual advice.

Chris shook his head in commiseration.  "You need me to find a tape of one of her older shows?" he asked, tossing his coat back over a chair. 

"There's no time," Zak wailed.  "I've already got a dozen callers queued up on hold.  You've gotta cover for her."

"Me?" Chris laughed, sure Zak was having a joke at his expense.  He was well acquainted with the producer's quirky sense of humor – Zak was one of the regular foursome, along with Chris, Dave from accounting and Neal from sales, who got together for a weekly poker game every Sunday afternoon, as well as the occasional Mariners or Sonics game after work.  "Very funny, Zak."

"I'm serious, Chris," Zak pleaded.  "There’s no one else I can ask.  It's just for one night – you've got to help me out here."

"Are you crazy?  I'm a features editor, not an on-air personality.  I can't answer questions about sex for three hours," Chris protested.  "I don't – I haven't got any qualifications."

"You write 'Single in Seattle'," Zak argued.

"That's about where to go on a date, not 'making it sweet between the sheets'," Chris objected, quoting the show's tag line.  "Just put on a tape."

"A tape isn't going to move us to first in the ratings," Zak countered.  It was a low blow.  KLTR promoted itself as "the leader in talk radio," but it had lagged in second place in the crucial drive-time and late-night time slots for years, and Zak knew how dedicated Chris was to changing that.  "It's a sweeps week, and lots of listeners are going to be stuck at home because of the weather.  If they turn us off because we're playing a rerun, we may never win them back."

"But what if someone asks something I can't answer?" Chris floundered, weakening.  Zak knew he had him.

"Leave that to me and Google," the producer grinned.  "You don't think She comes up with all her answers herself, do you?"

Ten minutes later, Chris was wired into a studio cubicle, a bottle of water and a bank of computer monitors in front of him.  Zak gave him a thumbs-up from behind his console and began the show's intro.

"It's nine o'clock in Seattle, and that means it's time for the number one show in adult talk radio, the show where anything goes and nothing is too intimate, the show dedicated to ‘making it sweet between the sheets’.  Tonight we have a very special guest host, so ladies and gentlemen, enjoy 'Making Love' ... with Christopher Booth!"

Chris swallowed around the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him and nodded for Zak to connect the first caller.   "Hi, you're on the air.  What's your question?"   Brilliant opening, he cringed.

"Er ... hi," a woman's voice spoke haltingly into his headphones.  She's as nervous as you are, Chris realized, taking a calming breath.  "I wanted to ask ... I mean, I was wondering ..." she faltered.

"What's you name, ma'am?" Chris asked gently.

"Terry," she answered.

"How can I help you, Terry?"

Zak grinned as he listened to Chris putting the caller at ease.  The guy was a natural!

"Well, my husband ... he hasn't been very interested in sex lately ... and I was hoping ... that is ... maybe you could tell me what I could do to make him want me again?"  Chris winced at the insecurity in the woman's voice.  Glancing at the website Zak had pulled up on one of the monitors, he asked, "Does your husband have any medical problems – high blood pressure, diabetes, depression?  Some medications can cause a reduction in sexual drive that your doctor might be able to address..."  Sure, the magic little blue pill, he frowned with distaste.

"No, nothing like that," the caller answered.  "He just sits in front of the TV all night, watching ESPN, and I usually fall asleep before he even comes to bed."  She laughed sadly.  "I know I'm not as young and thin as I used to be, but neither is he.  At least I don't have to worry that he's found someone else, since he never leaves that easy chair."

Chris felt the woman's pain twisting inside his own chest.  He thought of his parents, who hadn't been able to walk past each other without exchanging a loving touch, even after thirty years of marriage.   "When's the last time you and your husband held hands, Terry?" he asked impulsively.

"Held hands?" she repeated in surprise.  "I don't know – years, probably."

"It sounds like you've gotten out of the habit of intimacy," Chris mused.  "You wouldn't like it if your husband came home from work and wanted to have sex without any foreplay first.  Think about attracting your husband's interest again as a kind of extended foreplay.  You want to make him start thinking about you, seeing you, in an intimate way again.  Start with little things, that don’t have to be blatantly sexual – like touching him gently when you pass in the hallway, holding hands when you walk, dropping a little kiss on his head when he's sitting in his chair."

"I could do that," Terry said, a note of hope lightening her voice.

"Let your husband know that he's still special to you, that you still love him," Chris prompted.  "Once you remind him of that, you might be surprised at what follows."

"I do love him," the woman murmured.  "I'll give it a try."

"Call back in a week or so and let us know how you're doing, Terry," Chris added as Zak switched to the next call.

"This is Mike," a voice Chris suspected belonged to a teenager spoke next.  "My girlfriend won't let us have sex unless I wear a condom, and I was wondering which kind is the best for, you know, letting me feel the most."

Zak typed a hasty note to display on the monitor as Chris paused.  The show's sponsors included two rival condom brands, and the last thing they needed was to say anything to favor one over the other.

"Your girlfriend's right, Mike, unless you're in a committed monogamous relationship, you both need to be safe," Chris answered.  "I'm probably not the best person to answer your question, though – it isn't something I've had a lot of recent experience with.  Maybe some of our listeners can give you their opinions."  Zak grinned as the phone lines lit up in immediate response to the suggestion.  For the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to the rest of the night.

~~~~~

Neal Kenelly set his dinner plate in the dishwasher and contemplated what to do with the remainder of his evening.  Normally he'd have been heading to a club by now, if he hadn't just gone out straight from work, but the snow had convinced him to stay inside tonight.  He glanced at the clock when he heard Zak's voice issuing from his stereo speakers.  Nine o'clock.  Neal usually kept the radio on in the background when he was home, but he always switched it off when Estrela came on – the woman might sell a lot of ads, but he detested her abrasive attitude and intolerant comments.  He was reaching for the remote when Zak mentioned a special guest host.  Intrigued, he paused with his finger on the power button as the producer invited listeners to "...enjoy 'Making Love'... with Christopher Booth".  Neal stifled a bark of laughter at the thought of the quiet, reserved features editor subbing for the sensual Latina.  Stretching out on the couch, he settled in to listen, sure he'd find plenty of ammunition to tease Chris unmercifully at their next poker game.

~~~~~

“And that’s the last call we have time for tonight,” Zak announced, once Chris had reassured the young mother on the line that devoting time to herself and her husband was just as important as caring for her newborn son.  Pulling off his headset, Chris slumped into the chair, rubbing the tight knot at the back of his neck.  Thank God that’s over, he groaned to himself, straightening up when Zak bounded into the studio after signing off with the program’s credits and switching to a block of commercials.

“That was fantastic, Chris!” the producer enthused.  “You ought to be doing this every night – you had those callers eating out of your hand!”

“I don’t think I’ll quit my day job,” Chris muttered, shrugging into his coat.  “Just remember, you owe me – big time.”  Once outside, he stood for a moment with his face turned up to the sky, filling his lungs with clean, cold air until the shaking subsided.  He’d done it – he’d stumbled and bluffed his way through, at times, but he didn’t think he’d messed up too badly, and he might even have helped one or two of the callers.  The empty streets were quiet as he walked to his apartment, the falling snow muffling his footsteps, but Chris was comfortable with silence.

~~~~~

Chris slept in the next morning, arriving at the studio around mid-day.  It seemed as if everyone in the building made a point to stop by his office and comment about the previous night’s show.  Despite the constant interruptions, he managed to finish researching the rest of the ‘Single in Seattle’ segments for the month before his rumbling stomach convinced him to start thinking about dinner.  Getting ready to shut down his browser, on a whim he typed ‘sex advice’ into the open window, blinking in shock when it offered him nearly thirteen million hits in response.  He was about to open one at random when a tap on the plexiglass outside his office made him look up.  Neal Kenelly lounged against the doorframe, his handsome face sporting a knowing smirk.  Flushing guiltily, Chris clicked the browser window closed, even though he was sure it wasn’t visible from where Neal stood.

“It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for,” Neal grinned.  “I had no idea you knew that much about relationships.  Or that you wanted to be on the other side of the mike.”

“Trust me, I don’t,” Chris answered.  “I was just bailing out Zak.”  Seeing Neal’s leather jacket over his arm, he decided to walk out with his friend.  “I’m surprised you even heard me,” he added, logging off and retrieving his own coat from the back of his door.  “I thought you never listened to the show.”

“I don’t, usually,” dark-haired sales exec admitted.  “Estrela always reminds me how glad I am to be gay.  She sounds like she should be selling used cars, not sex.”  He waggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer as they headed toward the elevators.  “You, on the other hand, have the perfect voice for radio.  Husky, sensual, intimate…”

“Bite me,” Chris retorted wittily, earning another chuckle.

“You want to stop off for a beer?” Neal asked on impulse.

“Can’t,” Chris answered with regret.  Thursday nights were reserved for tutoring sessions with his Little Brother, Andre.  So he didn’t know that all hell had broken loose until he got to the station Friday morning.

The petite blonde receptionist, Trish, waylaid Chris as soon as he walked through the double glass doors engraved with the station’s call letters.  “Mr. Booth, Mr. Layton wants to see you right away.”  She smiled at him warmly, handing him a small stack of mail.  “And Zak Cowan wants you to call him as soon as you get in – well, as soon as you finish with Mr. Layton, I guess.”

“Thanks, Trish,” he answered distractedly, scanning envelopes as he shrugged out of his coat.  “Did he say what he wanted?”  He rarely had much interaction with Randall Layton, KLTR’s general manager, outside their weekly editorial staff meetings.

“Didn’t you hear?”  Trish ignored several phone lines flashing on hold as she leaned forward, her green eyes sparkling.  “Estrela quit last night!  Walked out in the middle of her show!  I thought Zak was going to have a heart attack right on the air.”  She leaned closer, obviously more than ready to dish some dirt, when the harsh buzz of an intercom claimed her attention.  “Yes, sir, he just walked in,” she spoke into her headset with a nod toward the inner offices.  “He’s on his way over right now.”  ‘Good luck,’ she mouthed as Chris turned toward the executive suite.

“Chris!  Good to see you, how are you doing this morning?”  The GM was a portly man in his late fifties who always reminded Chris of a department store Santa Claus, but he was a shrewd programmer and businessman.  “Great job on the show the other night – I really appreciate your stepping in at the last minute like that.”

“It’s lucky I was still here,” Chris answered, already searching his memory for a syndicated show they could slide into Estrela’s spot until they could find a new host.

“You drew a very positive response… very positive,” the manager repeated when Chris showed no sign of having heard him.  “That’s why I’m so happy to give you this opportunity now.”

“Opportunity?”  Chris was fully capable of adding two and two together, and he didn’t like the answer he came up with.  “Oh, no, I – ”

“Before you say anything, Chris, we received more calls after your show than anything we’ve aired since I came to this station.  Even if Estrela hadn’t offered her resignation, I would have approached you about taking over.  You’ve touched a chord in our listeners, Chris, one we’d be foolish to ignore.”

“Mr. Layton – Randall – I can’t – ”

“No one has worked harder than you to make this station number one in the rankings, Chris.  If we can attract more listeners to our highest-rated show… well, that could be just what it takes to put us over the top.”  He clapped the stunned editor on the shoulder.  “Of course it would mean a big boost in your salary too, but I know that isn’t what will change your mind.  At least promise me you’ll think about it.”

“Of course, Mr. Layton, but I really think – ”

“Good, good, that’s all I ask.  Oh, and Chris?  Can you let me know by three o’clock?  I’d like to start the new promos by drive-time for tonight’s show.”

His head reeling, Chris had barely gotten out of Layton’s office when his cell phone started to vibrate.  He knew without looking at the display that it had to be Zak.

“Did he ask you?  You’re going to do it, right?  You have to do it!”

“Zak, this is crazy!  I managed to fumble my way through one show, but there’s no way I can fake it five nights a week!”

“But don’t you see, that’s the beauty of it – you’re not faking it!  I mean it, Chris, you should have heard the callers when Estela came on instead of you last night.  After the third person in a row asked to speak with you rather than her, she totally lost it – started ranting about how she was sick of wasting her time with a bunch of losers who were too stupid to take her advice anyway.”

“She didn’t really say that?”

“Swear to God – said the fact they were sitting home listening to her instead of out getting laid proved they were beyond being helped.  At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what she said – just about every other word was in Spanish by that point, and a good thing too, because some of it was pretty raw, even for her.”

The fantasy of begging Estrela to come back vanished.  “That still doesn’t mean I can take over for her, Zak!  For all her faults, Estrela is at least a doctor!  How in the hell can I come off giving sexual advice?”

“If all people wanted were facts, they could look them up themselves on Google,” Zak insisted.  “These listeners are looking for a human touch to make them feel good about themselves, and that’s what you gave them.  Estrela could give them answers, but she made them feel belittled when she did it.  Do you know she’d never refer them as anything but “caller”?  I don’t know if she was just too lazy to remember their names, or if she thought it took the focus away from her.  But the first thing you did with every caller was ask their name, and you used it when you talked with them.  You made them feel like they were important and that you cared about them.”

“Well, they are important, they’re the reason we’re on the air in the first place!”

“See, you really believe that!  And people respond to it.  You won’t be faking anything, Chris.  Just think of it like another research project – I can help show you where to go for the information, and the rest is just being yourself.”

Chris felt the sickening pressure of a migraine building behind his eyes.  “I have to sit down,” he muttered, heading for his office.

“I’ll be there by two so we can start planning for tonight,” Zak promised.  Chris sank into his chair and buried his head in his hands, wishing he had a door that locked.

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