Imagine that.”
“Bedroom?” Astrid raised her eyebrows. “Nothing subtle about that, is there?”
“Mind if I interrupt you two with some work matters and do sound levels now?” Doyle asked, still chewing his last bite.
“Check away,” Roxy answered, then laughed. “Which is what I’ll be saying to Mr. Pipe Wrench in a few hours, I hope.”
“In the middle of the night again?” Astrid asked.
“Best time. Just ask Doctor Val. I think for once the two of us would agree on something.” Roxy folded her latest house plans and crammed them in her canvas briefcase. “I think I may have to go buy another home design program. This one seems to have some kinks in it.”
“Could you squeeze in a couple of promos before we go on?” Astrid asked. Then turning to the engineering booth window, she asked Doyle, “Think we could get them in? I know I shouldn’t be springing this on you at the last minute, but management wants a couple of spots to stick on in evening drive-time. They think it’ll tap a new audience.”
“Always drive-time,” Roxy sighed. “But if it brings ’em in, what the heck.”
“Just give me five, and I’ll be good to go,” Doyle called back.
One pizza slice left, he was obviously debating whether to cram it down or leave it for later. Knowing Doyle, he’d go for the cram and order a whole ‘nother pizza for later. “Extra cheese,” Roxy said. “Thin crust. I’ll buy.”
He winked at her before he bit into the last slice. “You bet you will, sugar.”
“Here’s the copy. Go over it a couple of times before you do it.” Astrid plunked some papers down in front of Roxy.
“I prefer to do it spontaneously,” Roxy called after her.
“Just as long as you get the name in…”
“I know. Five times.”
“Seven, if you can. Plus the time it comes on.”
“Like anybody listening in drive-time will still be up to hear me.” These were the people who did Monday through Friday, nine to five. According to market research they were heading to bed after the eleven o’clock news, so there was no chance she was reaching the right audience with drive-time promos. But free advertising was free advertising. “So Doyle, are you ready?”
“For you, babe, I’m always ready. Let me cue up then I’ll give you the count.”
He was on the five count when Roxy picked up her copy and looked at it for the first time.
“One,” from Doyle.
“Good evening, sugars. This is Doctor Val reminding you to tune in tonight as we talk about love, sex, and all the other little things that rock your world…and mine.” Including a building maintenance man who was a solid ten on the rock scale. “I promise to have an extra-specially good show for you tonight, but you won’t know how good until you turn me on.” Ad-lib time because the rest of it was drivel. “And I do so want you to turn me on.” Much better. Much more Val. “So stop by and check me out on Midnight Special at…well, midnight. The best hour of every night for everything. I’ll be waiting for you, sugars.”
Doyle gave her the cut sign, and Roxy wadded the copy and lobbed it into the trash. “I know, I only got the name in once, but they’ll get the drift.”
“And I do so want you to turn me on,” Doyle mimicked. “Doctor Val, raising erections all over the interstate. I can just see all the accident reports. So is the next promo better than this one?”
“Aren’t you the critic?” Astrid snapped at Doyle.
“Hey, I call ’em as I hear ’em.” Doyle gave the cue sign for the next promo just as Roxy slid the copy sideways until it flittered down into the trash can. One more ad-lib coming up, but this one all the way.
“Hello out there in rush-hour traffic. This is Doctor Val with two pieces of advice for you. One is listen to my program, Midnight Special. You’ll be amazed what you’ll hear in grown-up time when we can talk about the good things, the sexy things you’ll never hear on your way home from work. And the other piece of advice is drive naked, sugars. Makes the whole experience much more fun, especially if everybody else commuting right along with you is driving naked, too. So try it, then call me tonight at midnight and let me know if it was good for you, ‘cause, if I’m the one commuting next to you, I’ll be watching, and it’ll sure be good for me. Midnight Special every night at…midnight.”
Roxy turned to Astrid. “Got the name in more.”
“And you’ve got two minutes to do the right one,” Astrid yelled from her glass booth. “Doyle, erase that last mess and get ready for the correct promo.”
“Yeah, Doyle,” Roxy said, grudgingly grabbing the copy from the trash. “Cue me up to do the really good one. The one that will put everybody to sleep.”
Smiling, he gave her the sign, and Roxy read, “This is Doctor Val reminding you to listen to Midnight Special every weeknight at midnight. On Midnight Special we’re full of all kinds of surprises…” She couldn’t help herself. “And on Midnight Special we like to talk real dirty. Lots of sex on Midnight Special. So if you like sex, if that’s what makes you hot at midnight, you’d better tune in and listen to just how hot it can get on Midnight Special. ‘Cause sugars, Valentine gets hot every night on Midnight Special. That’s Midnight Special every weeknight at midnight.” She made a slashing gesture at Doyle and grinned at Astrid. “Seven times, count them. So is that better?”
“After work, the real thing. And Doyle’s locking the doors so you can’t get away,” Astrid grumbled, sitting down in her chair.
“You didn’t really expect me to stick to plain old boring, did you?” Roxy countered.
“Boring pays the—”
“I know,” Roxy said. “It pays the bills, but it doesn’t attract the listeners. And without listeners, there’s no program, and without a program we’re all slapping burgers on a grill somewhere down on the waterfront.” Astrid with her business degree, Doyle with one in engineering and Roxy’s in psychology—the trio couldn’t flip a burger together. But the burger-flipping imagery was good, she thought. “So I do what I have to do to keep us in this job.” She laughed. “And deep down you know I’m right, even though you won’t admit it. So just edit it, okay? Whatever you thinks works.”
“Five minutes,” Doyle said.
Roxy glanced up at the clock, wondering momentarily if Doctor Craig would be calling tonight. For sure he would if her ad-libbed, driving naked promo made it out on the air. Too bad Doyle had erased it.
Then briefly, Roxy imagined Ned Proctor driving naked.
ALMOST MIDNIGHT. He was tempted to turn on the radio and listen to the reigning queen of babble, since his plan to wander across the hall and ask Roxy Rose how her plumbing was doing went down the dumper when she went out a couple of hours ago. Going back across the hall…He’d been wanting to do that for several days now, but he needed some distance between himself and that whole humiliating faucet incident. What
