Page 25 of Head Room (Caught Dead in Wyoming #15)
“Hello. I did. But I’m having a business meeting here and—”
“I just want an autograph for my nephew. He loves the Packers.”
Mike winced.
The woman should consider herself lucky. If she’d said that to a Bears fan instead of this former player, she’d get a lot more than a wince.
Needham assumed a completely blank expression that said he was trying not to laugh.
Orson turned and gave the woman a closer look.
I bit the inside of my cheeks.
“Our meeting—” Mike tried.
“It’s just an autograph.” Couldn’t say she whined. More like indignant insistence.
“Mom, c’mon.” A male voice came. “I gotta get to that interview.”
Past the woman, I saw the same guy I guessed was a job applicant at the sheriff’s office yesterday.
Mike grabbed a paper napkin from a stack Stella left for Needham, who’d ordered ribs, and wrote his name on it as he said, “Hope you’re enjoying your time here in Wyoming.”
He handed it to her.
She looked down. “A napkin? That’s not—”
“Hey. Your party’s leaving.” Stella swept in, friendly but firm. “This is a private meeting for our newspaper and TV news folks and—”
“The media?” Ignoring Stella, the woman’s gaze swept us with even more disdain than for the napkin. “Planning how to lead your local citizens around by the nose and—”
“What?” Mike interrupted.
“—spew out fake news. Everybody knows the media’s biased—”
“Ma’am—”
“No, Stella.” Mike turned fully toward the woman.
I hadn’t known him when he played for the Bears, but I suspected this was his game face. I wouldn’t have wanted to be on the opposite side of the line of scrimmage when he wore it.
The woman appeared completely unaware, caught up in her pre-packaged grievances.
Her expression shifted. Can’t say it softened. But she might have thought it produced a pleasant smile. She’d be wrong, but it surely seemed she thought so.
“Now I remember, you’re with one of those network stations somewhere. They’re all biased, too.” She smirked. “But seeing as you’re sports, I guess that’s not as bad.”
She was about to forgive him.
Not a good idea.
“And there it is,” he said. “The thud of you landing hard after jumping to a conclusion. That’s where ignorance leads you and I’m sick of it.
I don’t know which prejudice you’ve abdicated whatever brains you were born with to, but you are full of it.
These people, and the ones at those networks you disparage, work their asses off to bring you facts and you not only don’t care enough about truth and accuracy to pay attention, but then you insult them — us — because I’m a journalist, too, and proud of it.
In fact, I own the TV station in this town and its news department is what I’m most proud of in my life. ”
The woman gabbled syllables, but no words.
Mike stood. “It’s time for you to leave.”
Stella took the woman’s arm and ushered her away. Just before other people blocked my view, I saw her take the signed napkin out of the woman’s hand.
Movement at our table reclaimed my attention.
Orson Jardine stood and went to Mike, still standing, and reached up to thunk him on his upper chest. “Now, this is a man I could work for.”
* * * *
Nothing was decided before the lunch broke up. But Orson agreed to a further conversation with Mike and to see the newsroom this afternoon.
If he was interested after that — seeing the KWMT-TV newsroom could dampen a lot more enthusiasm than he’d shown — I’d join another conversation tomorrow.
My not being involved in the next steps meant I was free to see Hiram and didn’t need to call off my rendezvous with Tom at the station’s parking lot.
As I drove there, I saw that a message came in while I’d been at lunch.
“Elizabeth,” Mom’s recorded voice said. “They’ve pushed back that cold snap forecast several days. I don’t want you worrying about it—”
Not entirely true. She probably did want me to worry, at least a little, even though she had the worry duty cornered and covered, so my contribution would be negligible.
“—because it’s not yet pushed back to days that would directly affect the wedding.”
Not yet. Mom’s full of optimism.