Big Cherry Holler - Adriana Trigiani [6]
A perky young redhead with a small, flat nose meets us at the studio door. “I’m Kim Stallard. Welcome to the WCYB studio.”
“We can read, lady.” Billy Skeens points to the sign.
“Aren’t you smart?” Kim says sincerely. “You must be from Big Stone Gap. Would you like to see the studio?”
“You better do something with them damn kids. They’re squirrelly as hell, cooped up in that van for pert’ near two hours,” Fleeta tells Kim, popping a mint.
“Right. Okay. Follow me.” Kim motions us into the dark studio. There is a small path to the set; on either side are painted flats, which serve as backdrops for the news shows.
“Isn’t this interesting, kids?” Jack asks.
“It’s a mess,” Etta decides.
“These are sets for the shows,” I tell her in a tone to remind her that we are guests in TV Land.
“We’re what you call an affiliate. We are a multipurpose studio. Is it smaller than you thought?” Kim asks.
“Much,” Jane Herd tells her as she cranes her neck to look up at the rafters rigged with lights.
“Well, TV isn’t all glamorous.” Kim smiles.
“Look, a bike.” Etta points to an off-camera bike.
“That’s mine,” says the familiar deep voice of Dan DeBoard, the debonair fiftyish game-show host/weatherman/anchor of the six o’clock news (he shares these responsibilities with Johnny “Snow Day” Wood). He doesn’t seem one bit nervous as he reviews his notes. He is tall and slim; his black hair is parted neatly and slicked back. The Bristol Herald Courier once proclaimed him “East Tennessee’s Burt Reynolds.” The resemblance is definitely there, and so are the Smokey and the Bandit sideburns.
“You look thinner in real life,” Fleeta says as she sizes him up.
“So do you,” Mr. DeBoard replies. (I guess he hears that plenty.)
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Iva Lou extends her hand and right hip in one smooth move.
“And you must be a former Miss Virginia?” Dan’s eyes travel over Iva Lou as though he’s starving and perusing the fresh pie rack at Stringer’s Cafeteria.
“No, just plain old Miss Iva Lou.” She tightens her grip as her eyes travel all over Dan DeBoard.
“She’s murried,” Fleeta growls.
“Aren’t we all?” Dan winks.
Our kids swarm the stage. “It’s good to let the children get comfortable on the set. It makes for a better show,” Kim tells us as she checks a list on a clipboard. They catch sight of themselves on the television monitor on the floor in front of them. “Look-ee! We’re on the TV!” Jane shrieks. Etta and Billy squeeze into the seat with Jane and wave to their images on the monitor.
Then the enemy arrives. Kingsport Elementary is represented by three stern boys with identical crew cuts and creases in their little navy slacks. Their matching green plaid jackets are so stiff, they look like they were pressed while the boys were wearing them.
“Lordy mercy,” Jack Mac whispers.
“They look like triplets,” Fleeta announces.
Mrs. White surveys the competition, then gathers our team in a huddle. The group breaks. Jane slips into her seat and folds her hands neatly on the desk. Etta smooths her hair and adjusts her nameplate so it is square on camera. Billy sits down at his desk and removes his boutonniere. The girls follow suit with their corsages. The mountain kids get it. This is for real. If they want to win, no flowers, no shenanigans.
As the theme music plays (a swing version of the alphabet song), Dan DeBoard takes a sip of coffee and spins gently on a high stool. He nibbles on the rim of the Styrofoam cup as his eyes search the bleachers for Iva Lou. When he finds her, he smiles and double-blinks (very flirty). Then he stands and casually hooks the heel of his shiny tasseled oxblood loafer on the chrome rung of the stool. He is so calm, he might as well be playing charades at home in his living room. I grip Jack’s hand so tightly, I could crush a Coke can.
“Let’s welcome