Heart Sparks: Tiny Stories of Love | ✓

13 • Rival Anchors

"Excuse me ma'am. Ma'am, just a moment of your time!"

The lady continued avoiding eye contact and adopted a quicker pace with every step.

I let the microphone hang limp and gestured at the cameraman to cut. This was the last place on our stop to deliver this assignment and no one was willing to talk about the crimes. Or more specifically, they refused to talk to reporters from Channel 9.

The recent lawsuits had made for especially juicy material on other news channels, a growing spiral of defamation.

I had contemplated quitting but I needed the job to make my mortgage payments. I was already behind. I had only gotten this job by a stroke of luck in the first place. Or maybe they were as desperate as I was.

One of the producers had found me attractive. He had never crossed the line so I could handle the harmless flirting.

I scanned the parking lot for my next target when another news truck entered, stopping at the back.

He walked out from the back seats.

I seethed.

This wasn't their usual territory but they would do anything to get their rankings ahead now. Timing was everything. I couldn't let them sink our channel.

I asked the cameraman, Gus, to get some B-roll and approached the truck as they set up.

"Hart," he appraised me.

"Brennan," I narrowed my eyes. "You're outside of treaty lines, aren't you?"

"There won't be any lines if there's no competing news station," he responded in fact. "You're hanging on by a thread."

I crossed my arms, taking my stance.

"Until then, this area is ours." I said.

"Right," he nodded his head, then signalled the cameraman to follow him to the entrance. I blocked his path.

"Why don't you get a few shots of the place," he said to the man and he left.

"I can stand here all day," I said.

"You still wouldn't get an interview," he smirked.

"Maybe," I shrugged, "but I wouldn't let you get one either."

He took a step closer and I tilted my head up to meet his eyes.

"Get out of my way," he said nonchalant, his hands in his pockets.

"No."

"Okay," he pursed his lips and then rolled them back, nodding this head. In an instant, he broke out into a run across the parking lot. His loafers bode better than my heels.

"Brennan!" I screeched. "Get back here!"

"You're making a scene!" he yelled back.

When I got to the doors, Brennan and his cameraman were already inside. Gus stepped in my path.

"Don't," he said. "We'll figure something else out."

We waited by the curb instead, trying our hand with other locals with no more progress. An hour later, Brennan exited and told his cameraman he'd meet him at the truck. By then, we were already defeated. I sat at on the curb and Gus had gone inside the supermarket to get a snack.

I didn't look up at Brennan when he approached, or when he sat beside me in his suit.

"No luck, huh?" he asked.

"No surprise to you," I said.

I wanted to pull the threads out of his jacket until it was one heaping pile at the side of the road.

When I had first joined, I had promised myself I'd never let the jerk from Channel 12 beat us at anything. I never had until now.

"Look, I'm sorry about your station," he said.

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not," he admitted. "But we won't be feuding competitors anymore."

"I'll always be feuding with you," I threw him a look.

The corner of his mouth lifted as he stood to get back into his van.

"I hope so," he said as he got inside.