Falling Star Read Online Free PDF

point 3? She became aware of the
sudden puzzled stillness of the stage manager, of the hot glare of
the klieg lights, of the oversize red numbers relentlessly reading
out the time on the digital clock below Camera One. Desperately,
she looked back down at the wire. Was that number an 8 or a 3?
    "I'm sorry," she said, thinking fast, and
managed a weak smile. "That was a 3 point 3. The aftershock that
struck only minutes ago was a 3 point 3 on the Richter scale."
    "Natalie." The director's urgent voice filled
her ear. "It was a 4 point 3! 4 point 3!"
    "I'm sorry," she repeated. She could feel her
cheeks begin to burn. "That was a 4 point 3 on the Richter scale. I
apologize for the confusion."
    "Toss to break!" the director yelled in her
ear.
    She managed a smile. "We'll be back in just a
moment." She forced herself to stare at the lens until she saw an
SUV commercial roll. Never in her entire career had she been forced
to toss to commercial to save her ass. It was something other
anchors did. Never her.
    It hit her full force, like a bomb detonating
mere feet away.
    That was the worst on-air mistake she'd ever
made. In eighteen years. This throbbing humiliation racking her
body was the aftershock of screwing up, badly, on air.
    She looked at the stage manager, but he was
fiddling with the bill of his Dodgers cap and didn't meet her eyes.
No one did. No one spoke. In the silent studio, a cocky male voice
pounded in her ears.
    Maybe you've been at this too
long .
    *
    Three hours later, Harry stood outside the
ENG truck's open sliding door, hands on denimed hips, staring
inside at Kelly. "You gonna call the hospital again?"
    Kelly threw down her compact and swiveled on
the rotating chair to glare at her cameraman. "I already
called."
    "That was a while ago. And the guy's in
critical condition, right?" Harry jutted out his chin. "Don't you
think you should—"
    "Lay off!" Kelly launched out of the truck,
landing on Harry's cowboy boot. He winced. "What do you know about
anything editorial? Don't bug me! You're ruining my concentration
before I have to go live again." She grabbed her compact, earpiece,
and script and headed back across Pico Boulevard, kicking at a
squished beer can. Forget the hospital! Who had time for that? She
should probably be nicer to her cameraman, if only for PR reasons,
but Harry was an idiot if he thought TV news was about checking
every last detail. She knew it was about looks and sass and
determination.
    Kelly arranged herself in front of the camera
and pulled out her script, scrawled in her reporter's notebook in a
large girlish hand. She'd written a live toss and tag and about a
minute ten of pure drama in between. It might be for local news but
it was good enough for a national tabloid like Hard
Line .
     
    DARRYL MANN WAS ALMOST HOME FROM A LONG
WEEKEND PLAYING THE CRAP TABLES IN VEGAS, BUT HE SURE DIDN'T BET ON
THIS! POLICE SAY MANN WAS DRIVING THESE RESIDENTIAL STREETS AT
FIFTY LIGHTNING MILES AN HOUR WHEN THE QUAKE STRUCK. HE LOST
CONTROL OF HIS HONDA CIVIC AND SLAMMED INTO THIS LIGHT POLE AT
FOURTH AND PICO, NEARLY GOING THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD. YOU CAN BE
SURE NO VEGAS GAMBLER WOULD LAY ODDS ON HIS CHANCES OF
RECOVERY!
     
    Kelly giggled. She loved that line! She
hadn't sent in her script for approval, which she was supposed to
do, because no way would stick-up-her-butt Ruth let her get away
with saying what she wanted. Not to mention airing the video of the
victim she'd made Harry shoot.
    Kelly plumped her hair, grinning to herself.
Getting those shots before the ambulance came had been a
brainstorm. Ruth would freak but so what? Tony was the real boss
and Kelly bet he'd like it. Realistic video was hot these days.
Tony liked hot. And she liked giving the news director what he
wanted.
    Kelly ran her eyes down her live tag.
     
    AS DARRYL MANN LIES IN A SANTA MONICA
HOSPITAL FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE, HE MUST BE WONDERING WHY A FREAK
ACCIDENT WOULD DEAL HIM SUCH A CRUEL HAND. WE CAN ONLY HOPE HE