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"Sure. " She crossed her arms. "What are friends for?"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Late in 1985, Tully got her big break. Assigned to do a live broadcast from Beacon Hill, she was surprised by the flurry of nerves that made her fingers tremble and her voice break, but when it was over, she felt invincible.
Shed been good. Maybe even amazing.
Now she sat upright in the passenger seat of the live truck, a van specifically designed for the technical requirements of a live broadcast, bouncing slightly with enthusiasm. When she closed her eyes, she relived every second of it: the way shed pushed into the front of the crowd and asked her questions, her flawless wrap-up at the end, shot in front of the well-lit bank, with the red and yellow police lights cutting through the darkening night. Afterward, it had taken forever to load up all the gear and get back on the road, but she didnt care. The longer this night lasted, the better. She hadnt even taken off her earpiece, battery pack, wireless microphone, or walkie-talkie. They were badges of honor.
"Pull over at that 7-Eleven," Johnny said from the back of the van. "Im thirsty. Mutt, jump out and get a few establishing shots while were here. Its your turn to make the drink dash, Tully. "
Mutt drove into the parking lot. "Cool. "
When they parked, Tully collected their money, then got out of the van and headed for the brightly lit mini-mart.
"None of that New Coke for me," Johnny said into her earpiece.
She pulled the walkie-talkie off her belt, switched it on, and said, "You say that to me every time. Im not an idiot. "
Inside the brightly lit store, she looked around for the cooler case, found it, and walked down the medicine aisle.
"Hey, look," she said, talking into the walkie-talkie, "they have Geritol. You need some, Johnny?"
"Smartass," he answered in her earpiece.
Laughing, she reached for the cooler cases handle when she noticed a shadow move across the glass. Turning, she saw a man in a gray ski mask point a gun at the cashier.
"Oh, my God. "
"Are you talking about me?" Johnny said. "Because its about time—"
She fumbled for the volume on the walkie-talkie and switched it off before the robber heard something. She clipped it to her belt and pulled her jacket over it, hiding her battery pack at the same time.
At the register, the robber swung to face her.
"You! Get on the floor. " The masked man pointed his gun at the ceiling and pulled the trigger to make his point.
"Tully? What the hell is going on?" came Johnnys voice through the earpiece.
Tully fumbled with the earpiece cord, trying to conceal it under her jacket. Then she turned up the volume on the walkie-talkies outgoing message, hoping like hell Johnny would be able to pick up some sound. "Someones robbing the store," she whispered as loudly as she dared, depressing the outgoing button.
In her earpiece, she heard Johnny say, "Holy shit. Mutt, call 911 and then start shooting. Tully, keep calm and get the hell to the floor. We can go live with this. Turn on your mic. Im getting hold of the station. Theyre on air now. Stan, can you hear me?"
A few seconds later, Johnny said, "Okay, Tully. Were putting this through to Mike. Hes on air now with the ten oclock news. Your audio is going on live. You wont be able to hear him, but hell hear you. "
Tully turned on her mic, whispered into it, "I dont know, Johnny. How do—"
"Your mic is hot, Tully," he said urgently. "Youre on live. Go. "
The masked man must have heard something; he suddenly swung toward her again, pointing his gun at her. "I told you to get down, damn it. "
She just had time to process "Ive had enough o this shit" when he pulled the trigger.
There was a loud crack of sound. Tully barely had time to scream before the bullet hit her in the shoulder and knocked her off her feet. She crashed into the shelves beside her, was vaguely aware of colored boxes crumbling and falling around her. Her head hit the linoleum floor hard.
For a moment, she lay there, gasping, staring up at a wiggling snake of fluorescent lighting.
"Tully?"
