Deflected

Chapter 6: Tiffany, Part 1

The door clicks when it closes behind me as I walk into the newsroom. I'm immediately greeted by the sounds of the police scanners at the assignments desk, quietly squawking with whatever chatter emergency crews are talking about today.

Rowen and I took a few extra days off work when we got back from Fiji so we could settle into our new routine as husband and wife. And settle we did. After a lot of consideration, Rowen ended up moving into my apartment with me.

Although we liked the idea of living in the more secluded area of Rowen's garage apartment, moving to mine won out. Not because it's bigger and newer, but because it's closer to my job, which means it's less of a drive when I get off work in the middle of the night. Rowen also likes that since it's a big complex, there are more people around at all hours. He said he'll feel more comfortable about leaving me at home when he goes on the road.

Not that I haven't lived on my own for years, but he was raised to be chivalrous and protective. And boy does he take the idea of "protecting" me very, very seriously. I'm sure that would irritate a lot of women, but I find it to be amazing. He's always talking about how we're a team and we protect each other, so I have no complaints.

Now that we've been back into our daily routine for a couple of weeks, you'd think I wouldn't be excited about going into work again. Not today. I've been waiting for this particular day for weeks.

"What's up, Caleb?"

He barely looks at me when I drop my bags and grab the papers out of my mailbox. "If one more person calls out today, I'm going to lose my shit."

Sorting through my mail, I find mostly trash. What I need are story ideas for the rest of the week. With a sigh, I toss the trash in the recycle bin. "How many are out today?"

"Three photogs, two reporters, and one anchor. And I haven't even called production yet. I have no idea if they're missing people."

"Yikes." I lean against the desk. "That stomach bug again?"

"It's never ending. Just keeps making the rounds."

"I'm sorry. That sucks."

"Not just for me. Um… I have bad news."

My eyes widen. "No. Please don't say it."

"I'm sorry Tiffany. I don't have enough photogs to get the news covered."

"So you have to pull mine? From the one game we've been looking forward to all year?"

Realistically, this happens all the time. If we're short-staffed or there is an overwhelming amount of local news, the sports photographer can be shifted over to the news department for the night. Normally, I don't complain. It's just part of the territory. It also goes both ways. When the Super Bowl was in Houston, news photographers worked in our department for a couple of days. Today though, this is the worst possible timing.

"I just don't know how else to make it work." He has the nerve to look sheepish, knowing he's just broken my sports-loving heart.

"But it's the Cowboys, Caleb," I plead. "The Cowboys never come to Houston."

"I know, and if there was any other way to make this work, I would do it."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I think of a plan. There's got to be a way to shuffle things around so everyone can get what they need.

I clear my throat. "Really, I don't need video of the entire game. We can get that from the feeds anyway."

"Tiff…" Caleb knows I'm not going to let this go without a fight.

"What I want is the last quarter and post-game interviews."

"Tiffany, what are you doing?"

I quirk an eyebrow at him. If I can just get him engaged, I might get what I want. "I think I know how this can work for both of us."

"All right, let's hear it." He's still looking at his monitors. That means he already doesn't think my idea will work. I'm going to have to work hard for this one.

"Let me put in a call to Jason Hart's manager. Tell him we want a post-game interview with him. It can be done in the locker room, or whatever. Doesn't have to be a sit-down type thing. We tell them we want to ask a few questions about his foundation, Hart to Heart."

"Uh huh."

He's not biting yet. Time to make it worth his while. "In the meantime, whichever anchor you have can start calling MD Anderson and see if they have the numbers of bone marrow matches from before Jason started the foundation until now. See if the numbers have increased."

He turns to look at me, eyes narrowed. "You have my attention now."

I smile at him. "I knew I would. Anyway, maybe the PR director at the cancer center knows a story or two about someone who waited for years to get a match but was unsuccessful until after all those bone marrow drives at the stadiums. Maybe the match was found because of that drive."

"I wonder if they could set it up where we could interview one of the survivors and their donor," Caleb offers, and I know I've got him.

"You read my mind. We could also share those stories with Jason and get his reaction to his foundation's hard work. In the meantime, I get my fourth quarter footage…"

"And I get an anchor package since I'm short on reporters…"

"Win-win."

"I'm going to need footage of the bone marrow drive when it was here. You think you can go through the archives and pull the b-roll for me?"

I hate going through the archives. But in this case, I'll do what it takes as long as I get the footage I want. "Absolutely. I'll do it right now."

Caleb turns back to his computer screen. "Nice working with you, as always, Tiffany."

"Glad to be of service."