“You think you’re in the news business for life?” I asked Ty after a few minutes of settling in. I’d eaten way too much.
“Nah.” He took a pull from his beer bottle.
“Really?” I hadn’t expected his answer. “What will you do instead?”
“I always thought I’d set up my own production company. Nothing big.” He shrugged but had a really cool gleam in his eye. I’d just stumbled upon a dream of Ty’s, one he was very much capable of bringing to fruition. He not only knew everything there was to know about cameras, lighting, and overall production, but he was creative and had a great eye. “We’d shoot small commercials. Sell muffins. Insurance. Things like that.” He scratched the back of his head. “Maybe a few high-octane sports videos. Vrooom,” he said, impersonating a motorcycle whizzing past. “I love that kinda stuff, man. Gets my blood going.” He glanced over at me, grinning like Christmas morning. It made me want it for him all the more.
“What’s stopping you? Do it now.”
“Gotta save a little more dough. But I’m close. Maybe in a couple of years.” He ran a hand through his hair and gave it three back-and-forth rubs. “Sure is fun to think about, though.”
“Well, I believe in you and know you can do it.”
He looked over at me, beer hanging to the side of his chair. “Yeah? You mean it?” He didn’t get too sentimental on me often, so I placed a high value on the moment. He cared about my opinion. That was clear.
I smiled. “I very much do. Not that I wouldn’t miss you around the station.”
“You wouldn’t have a chance to miss me. We’d still hang like this. Eat too much food together.”
“We better.”
We clinked our bottles, sealing the pact, and stared off into the night some more. We’d come a long way, he and I. It was nice to have a friend to share silences with without the need to cover them. That’s when you knew you had a valuable bond on your hands.
“You’re a good guy, you know that?” I said.
He shrugged, his cheeks turning red. Just that kind of night. “You’re okay, too. Kinda chatty.”
My mouth fell open. “Shut up.”
“You shut up.” A long pause. “Which was my whole point.”
I laughed. Ty did, too, because he was by far the more talkative one. Yep. This was the stuff I lived for. A much-needed good night all around.
* * *
“You ready?” Ty asked later that day as we drove to the nearby elementary school that had been vandalized overnight. We had our game faces on, set for a day of rounding up the news.
“For spray paint and angry principals? Bring them on. The more fired up we get that woman, the better the bite.”
“For the big time, bonehead. I’m talking globally. Taking over the news world, one high heel at a time.”
“Don’t call me bonehead, lug nut. And I think so?” I scrunched up an eye. “I never realized how much scrutiny these anchors faced. There are people in boardrooms evaluating my style of banter and debating the direction I part my hair. Feels like a lot of pressure.”
Ty didn’t hesitate. “It is that. They will chew you up and spit you out if you let ’em.” He looked over at me, sincere. “Don’t. You hear me, numbskull?”
“I hear you, birdbrain. I appreciate your looking out for me.” I was feeling all kinds of sentimental as we got to the end of our time working side by side. How often would I get to work with a true best friend? “And don’t you go forgetting about me and our adventures.”
He lowered his sunglasses. “What’s your name again?” I slugged him as he put the car in park. He looked across his dash at the school in front of us. “This is it. Likely the last one. Better make it count.”
I grinned. “I owe you a Slurpee after to commemorate the occasion. A green one.”
“Yep. I knew it.” He slapped his steering wheel. “You’re the best damn reporter ever.”
“You know it.”
He grabbed his camera and tripod from the back, and we headed to the front of the school, off to nab another story for the people of San Diego like the newshound duo that we were.
Chapter Seventeen
The weekend always had a way of slowing the world down and reminding me of all the important things in life, especially when it came after a whirlwind few days like mine. Seeing my family exaggerated the effect and worked like the best kind of salve. Carrie and I sat around the table at Sarah and Emory’s place, stuffed from a magnificent roasted chicken dinner, and grinning from fantastic conversation. The sun was down and dessert plates sat half empty, leaving the kind of satisfaction that only came when you were fully fed, a little buzzed, and relaxing with people you loved.
“I need this mousse recipe,” Carrie called to Sarah, who headed to the kitchen with a stack of plates and silverware. “I’m going to wake up thinking about this chocolate.”
“She does that on purpose,” Emory informed her. “Makes you bring Skyler back here more often if we feed you wonderful food. All part of the master plan.”
I tossed my napkin onto the table. “You don’t have to lure me with chocolate.”
Carrie shot me an admonishing look.
“Sorry. Yes. There better be more freakin’ chocolate, or I’m never returning.” We laughed, except for Carrie, who we’d lost to a notification on her phone. “Everything okay?” I asked, touching her arm.
“I think so. Do you mind if I step out and take a call?” she asked us, holding up her cell.
“By all means,” Emory said. “You can use the deck if you want privacy.”
“Perfect. Thank you.” She moved quickly from the room and flashed us the just one minute sign.
When we were alone, I turned to Emory. “How are you feeling? I didn’t want to put you on the spot in front of the others, but you’ve been on my mind. Be honest.”
She nodded and slid a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Coming to the end of my treatment. The fatigue they promised was no joke, but my stamina should be back soon.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“Well, hopefully. We won’t know for a while if we got it all, but my doctors are optimistic.”
“The waiting,” I shook my head, imaging that kind of stress. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“No choice. That and, well, I’ve learned that I’m not superwoman, and all I can do is surrender myself. That was news that certainly hurt.” Emory smiled ruefully. “But I’ve also learned that it’s okay to let myself be vulnerable.” She stared off in the direction of the kitchen, of Sarah. “Lean on that one in there. But that lesson hasn’t come easy.”