The Ex Talk

“Live in ten,” Jason says before I can answer Dominic, and I push away my jealousy so I can focus on what’s always been the best part of my job.

I slide off my stool and make eye contact with Paloma, holding my arm straight up at an imaginary twelve o’clock. “Five, four, three, two—” Then I lower my arm, aiming a finger at her, and she’s on.

“I’m Paloma Powers, and you’re listening to Puget Sounds,” she says in her practiced way. Her voice is dark chocolate, low and mature with a hint of femininity. There’s so much power in a voice like that, in the ability to make people not just listen but care.

A music bed plays underneath her, a bright piano melody that Jason will fade out as soon as she finishes her intro.

“Today we have renowned animal behavior expert Mary Beth Barkley in the studio for all your pet-related questions. Maybe you’re wondering how to introduce a new kitten to your home, or whether you really can teach an old dog new tricks. We want to hear from you, so call 206-555-8803, and we’ll try to get that question answered. But first, some breaking news from reporter Dominic Yun, who joins us live in-studio. Dominic, welcome to Puget Sounds.”

Dominic says nothing. He’s not even looking at her, just staring down at his notes as though still waiting for a cue.

Dead air is not good. We can usually survive a few seconds of it without listener complaint, but any more than that, and we have a serious problem.

“Fuck,” Ruthie says.

“Say something,” I mutter into his ear. I wave my arms, but he’s completely frozen.

Well, if he destroys my show, at least he’ll go down with it.

“Dominic,” Paloma prompts, still perfectly cheery. “We’re so happy to have you with us!”

Then something kicks in, as though the adrenaline has finally reached his bloodstream. Dominic blinks to life and leans into the mic.

“Thank you, Paloma,” he says, rocky at first, but then evening out. “I’m thrilled to be here. Yours was actually the first show I listened to before I moved to Seattle for this job.”

“Wonderful,” Paloma says. “What do you have for us?”

He straightens. “It started with an anonymous tip. And I know what you’re thinking. Sometimes an anonymous tip can be complete hearsay, but if you ask the right questions, you can find the real story. This one, I had a feeling—call it a reporter’s intuition—that it was right on. I investigated something similar about a faculty member when I was at Northwestern.” A dramatic pause, and then: “What I found out is that Mayor Scott Healey has a second family. And while his private life is his business, he used campaign funds to keep it quiet.”

“Shiiiiiit,” Jason says, spinning in his chair to face Ruthie and me. Behind the scenes, we’re not exactly FCC compliant.

“I knew there was a reason I didn’t vote for him,” Ruthie says. “I didn’t like his face.”

“That—that is a big one, Dominic,” Paloma says, clearly shocked, but recovering quickly. “We’ve had Mayor Healey on the show several times. Can you tell us how you figured this out?”

“It started at a council meeting last month . . .” He launches into the story—how he found the financial records and tracked where the money was going, how he eventually convinced the mayor’s secret daughter to talk to him.

Two minutes go by. Three. As we approach five minutes, I try to signal Paloma to switch segments, but she’s too focused on Dominic. I start to wonder if it’s possible to sever a mic cord with my fingernails.

“I can’t keep up with the phone lines,” Griffin’s voice says in my ear.

I press the button to talk directly to him. “Take down their questions and tell them Mary Beth will get to the ones she can.”

“No—they’re about the mayor. They want to talk to Dominic.”

Oh. Okay. Gritting my teeth, I hop on our show chat.

Calls coming in, is D open to ?’s?

“It looks like we’re getting a lot of questions,” Paloma says after peeking at the screen. “Would you be open to taking some calls from listeners?”

“Sure, Paloma,” Dominic says, with the ease of a seasoned reporter and not someone who played with a digital recorder a few times in college and decided why not go into radio.

When his eyes lock with mine through the glass barrier, all my loathing for him burns hot in my chest, turning my heart wild. The cut of his jaw makes him look more resolute than I’ve ever seen him, like he knows how badly I used to want this. His mouth tilts upward in a triumphant half smile. Delivering live commentary: another thing Dominic Yun is instantly perfect at.

Kent bursts through the door. “Shay, we’re gonna have to reschedule Mary Beth. This is good motherfucking radio.”

“Ruthie,” I say, but she’s already halfway out the door.