“Shall I send her cake and balloons? A singing telegram along with my reel? How does she feel about Ninja Turtles. I, for one, applaud their comeback and named my dog after one.”
Sarah grinned with a twinkle in her eye. “I have a feeling your work will speak for itself, weirdo. And your face. You’re gorgeous. You always seem to forget that part.”
I shrugged off the compliment. “Just not exactly confident.” Since when did San Diego producers care about ribbon cutting ceremonies at the newest ice cream parlor? But I was prepared to give it a shot. If I could simply land an interview, and pick up a little in-person momentum, I’d have the chance to sell myself directly. This Kristin person seemed like my first true opportunity, and I had no intention of blowing it. As my family members trickled in one at a time, the evening shifted into a festive one with lots of lively chats and our traditional soccer game in the backyard. Two goals for me and enough exercise to last all week. I had an extra spring in my step now, surrounded by the people I loved, and carrying a little bit of hope in my back pocket. This weekend had been a good choice, and I planned to keep making them.
Chapter One
The reception area at KTMW wasn’t at all glamorous. Three padded gray waiting room chairs were pushed together in a row across from a friendly receptionist wearing earbuds and drinking a large iced coffee that made her hand look minuscule each time she hefted it to her perfectly glossed lips. An audio version of the morning newscast was piped into the room for us to listen to, and the low-key aroma of lemony cleaner filled my nostrils. My left leg bounced a little in anticipation of this interview, which had been so shocking to land that I still wasn’t quite sure it was actually going to occur. I had trust issues when it came to exciting things happening to me because they rarely did. When I checked in, I was sure the receptionist was going to say that she didn’t see me on the schedule and send me on my way. When she told me to take a seat and that Kristin would be with me shortly, everything in me sang. I looked two chairs over at the guy about my age clutching a leather portfolio and wondered if he was one of my competitors for the job. He glanced back at me and offered a nod. Good-looking, coiffed hair, tailored blue suit. Highly likely. He fit the part. Suit guy licked his bottom lip, and I decided I wasn’t a fan. He was too put together. Perfect in excess. That had me nervous. My insecurities fired as I noticed a small scuff on the side of my left pump. I’d mastered the art of wearing heels over the years, tromping through tough terrain with my microphone. Anything for the right shot. If only I was as polished as Coiffed-R-Us over there—and now I had a scuff. Okay, now I was just being petty. He was likely a really nice guy, but dammit, he wasn’t going to take this job from me. Scuff be damned.
“Skyler Ruiz?”
My attention snapped to a blonde standing in the doorway with a file folder in her hands. Pretty. No scuffs on her heels. Gray dress with a black belt. Kind eyes and a luminous smile.
“Yes, hi. That’s me.” I stood, knowing suit guy was watching our interaction. Hell, maybe I made him nervous. I passed him a grin over my shoulder that was friendly, yet confident. Bam. Time to get this show on the road and find myself a foothold. My only shot.
The blonde extended her hand. “Kristin James. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot of positive things.”
“Well, it’s true. I excel at pool handstands, but I’m confident that’s not what you mean.”
Kristin laughed, and I was glad she was down for a joke. “No, no. Those come with their own merit and will be noted.” She gestured to a door to the right, flanking the open newsroom. “We’ll be joined today by our news director, Gilbert Tam. Right through here.”
“Great,” I said and followed her into the spacious, though overly cluttered, office. File folders, stacks of manuals, books piled high, and several TV monitors along an extra desk, all turned on with the sound down. The office gave off a very busy vibe, but that was the nature of news. A man with dark hair, a rumpled shirt, and a maroon tie stood as we entered. He extended one hand in my direction and in the other clutched an everything bagel with cream cheese smeared high. As he leaned, he glanced down at my résumé visible on his desk for a name prompt. “Skyler Ruiz.”
“That’s me. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tam.”
“Just Tam. We’re pretty informal around here. You’re lucky I buttoned my shirt. Kidding. Have a seat.” Except his kidding was a firm deadpan. That would take some getting used to. As I sat, Tam’s eyes drifted to a TV monitor behind me. When he saw me watching him, he grabbed the remote and had the courtesy to turn them all off, giving me his undivided attention. “Sorry about that. Never stops.” He gestured to the monitor with his pen. “There’s a robbery in progress that we’re keeping an eye on at a bank just outside of town. Could be a standoff. We have a crew on the scene now assessing the situation.”
I scooted to the edge of my seat before I realized I’d done it. Now this was the kind of news that got my blood pumping. “That’s great.”
His brows dropped.
I heard my words. “I mean, it’s not great. That there’s a bank robbery or that someone might get hurt, just that you’re on top of it.”
Kristin nodded. “No worries. I don’t think anyone cheers for a bank robbery.”
“Depends on if we’re in the middle of sweeps or not,” Tam said, blank faced. He then cracked a hint of a smile that let me know he was joking again.
Kristin took over. “Skyler, as you know, we’re hiring a reporter, mainly for our broadcasts at five and ten, but there would be some morning assignments here or there just depending on where our holes are.”
“Understood.”
“Tell us about you and your point of view. Who would we be hiring?”
I didn’t hesitate. This was my elevator speech, and I’d practiced it more times than I could say. “I’m an eager, hardworking journalist who is new enough to know that I have lots to learn, but hungry enough to waste no time learning it. On the flip side, I’ve had time at my station to truly hone my craft and know that I want to tackle hard-hitting news that informs and transforms.”
“Okay, I hear you. I like that,” Kristin said with a smile.
“But what does that mean?” Tam asked, frowning. “Cut to it.”
I met his gaze. “It means I’m good at my job but bored as hell out in the boonies. If you put me to work for you, I won’t stop until I have the story, and you can trust that it will be the right one.”
“I like that better,” Tam said. He scribbled something in his notebook. “I watched your reel. It’s not bad reporting, but it’s not exactly what we do here.”
“Which is what makes me want the job.”