Lucky Caller(18)

It was quiet, just the click of the mouse as Jamie added songs. “So, uh, did you hear back from Michelle?”

I had met with the catering manager from Pipers the afternoon before. I was to be hired on a kind of second-string basis for “this stage” of the wedding season—after initial training, I would get called in when one of the normal waitstaff couldn’t make it in or when it was a particularly big wedding (according to the website, the Meridian Room could seat up to three hundred). Then when “rush season” started, I would be included more often if things were going well.

“Interviewed yesterday.”

“And?”

“I’m supposed to train this weekend.”

“Nice.” His expression was neutral, so I wasn’t sure how to interpret that “nice.” I needed more data to draw a conclusion.

“I guess we’re gonna be coworkers,” I said.

“Guess so,” he replied, with a smile that was indeed a little more conclusive—maybe he didn’t hate the idea.

The others arrived then, and Jamie moved to his usual spot on the loveseat. Joydeep flopped down into his chair and pulled out his headphones.

“How are we feeling tonight, party people?” he asked, and Sasha gave a smile that looked like it was against her better judgment.

“Fine. You?”

“Fired up. Ready to go. Let’s do this.”

The first link went as follows:

“This is 98.9 The Jam. My name is Joydeep. You’re listening to Sounds of the Nineties. Thank you for joining us. For Sounds of the Nineties. Tonight we are playing songs from the year 1992. A great year. I wasn’t there, but … I’m sure cool stuff happened. Here is a song, and that song is ‘Rhythm Is a Dancer’ by SNAP!”

He pointed to me. I switched on the music, and by all rights, the music should have started then. It was usually kept at a low volume in the studio, but we should have been able to hear it.

Instead: silence.

I fumbled with the dial, thinking the studio volume might’ve been turned down. I couldn’t remember what was playing—if anything was playing at all—when I first arrived.

Jamie peered over at me. “What’s going on?”

I twisted the studio dial up and down again. Nothing. Shifted the slider on the board that controlled the music. Still nothing.

“Check outside,” I said, and Jamie jumped up and hurried out of the sound booth. Music should have been playing out there as well, in the small hallway leading to the editing bays.

I thought back to class with Mr. Tucker:

Something we absolutely do not want is dead air. Dead air is any silence that lasts for more than a few seconds when you’re broadcasting. Got that? We’re talking seconds here. Now I’m not saying you can’t take a pause when you’re having a discussion or making a point on-air. But it’s really important that when you’re speaking or having a conversation during a broadcast, you keep the ball rolling. And it’s even more important that if there’s some kind of technical malfunction, you act quickly, and you get something on as fast as you can.

Jamie came back in. “There’s nothing.”

“Are we not broadcasting?” Sasha asked, looking concerned. I wondered if she was recalling Mr. Tucker’s words as well. Say it with me now: No dead air. It’s the cardinal rule of radio. No. Dead. Air.

“Try another break,” Jamie suggested. “We’ll go out and see if it’s playing.”

I went to pause the playlist, but Joydeep shook his head.

“Wait, what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know. Read a PSA or something.”

“Got it.”

I switched on his mic as Jamie and Sasha both stepped out.

“Hey, Joydeep back here. From before. A little … earlier than anticipated. Just wanted to read you a PSA. A very important … notice … that is right here. On my desk. Um.”

He hadn’t called up a PSA before I cued him, which, as the producer, was my fault. I mimed drinking.

Joydeep frowned. “Water?”

Shook my head, mimed more forcefully.

“Drink. Drinking!”

I did a steering wheel motion.

“Driving.”

I made a slashing motion through the air.

“Don’t,” Joydeep added.

Frantically, I pushed my hands together in an all together kind of move. “Don’t drink and drive!” Joydeep burst out, triumphant. I gestured to continue. “It will kill people. Dead. It will make them dead. If you do that. So don’t do it.”

Sasha stuck her head back in and gave us a thumbs-up.

“Here’s another song,” Joydeep said.

I switched over to the music. Sasha ducked back out.

“You need to work on your charades skills,” Joydeep said.

“I got you to say it!”

Sasha came back in shaking her head, followed by Jamie, looking perplexed.

“Nothing?”

“It works when Joydeep’s on, but something’s wrong with the music,” Sasha said. “It’s not broadcasting.”

“Try one of the PSA tracks or a station ID or something,” Jamie said. There weren’t really commercials on 98.9 The Jam, but there were a ton of prerecorded PSAs for things like cyberbullying and sexting and a whole host of other “teen-targeted” issues. (If you WOULDN’T say it to their FACE, then WHY would you SAY it ONLINE? was a particularly ominous one. “Way too much echo,” Joydeep commented the first time we played it. “Did they record it from inside a toilet?”