Sunny Says Read Free

complained about
this segment, our dear auntie said that reporting sports scores condoned
competition. ‘Imagine how the poor losers feel, darling,’ were her words, as I
recall.”
    Kale groaned again.
    “Now do you understand why I
pleaded with you to come? Half of KRIP is yours, and I can’t get this mess
straightened out by myself,” Foster said.
    “The place is a zoo. The easiest
thing to do would be to fire everybody and start from scratch.”
    “Can’t. What you see is what we’ve
got to work with. Ravinia renegotiated everybody’s contract two months ago—with
raises, I might add. Except for Sunny.” Foster nodded toward the screen.
    “Ah, our daring Little Miss
Sunshine. Is she holding out for pitons and a grappling hook?”
    “Not exactly.” Foster squirmed
in his chair.
    Kale watched as Sunny recounted
the day’s weather, using the latest in colorful graphics. In her well-modulated
voice, she reported the high and low temperatures. Given her perky, cheerleader
looks, he’d been expecting a cutesy, saccharine performance, but he was
surprised. She seemed knowledgeable and professional as she described
upper-level troughs and low-pressure systems. In fact, she had a phenomenal TV
presence.
    He leaned closer, captivated.
Her big blue eyes sparkled with life, and her deep dimples flashed as she
related the water temperature off Padre
Island . Kale grew fascinated with her pale
blond hair, wondering if it felt as silky as it looked. Her blouse curved
enticingly as she pointed out a patch of thunderstorms on radar, and he
stirred, remembering how those soft curves had felt when he’d held her against
him.
    “She’s good,” Kale said. “Damned
good.”
    Foster nodded. “Would you
believe that the last five-minute segment of the show is the only thing that’s
keeping us alive? People watch news on the other channels in town, then switch
to Sunny for the weather report.”
    Puzzled, Kale said, “That’s
strange. I mean, she far outclasses the rest of the tripe on KRIP, but, hell,
one weather report is pretty much like another.”
    “Well. . . not exactly. Watch.”
    “And for tomorrow’s weather, the
National Weather Service predicts continued cloudiness with an eighty percent
chance of rain. But “—she paused to beam a golden smile that charmed the camera
and bored into Kale’s midsection—”the skies will clear before dawn, and
tomorrow is going to be a bright, sunshiny day with highs in the mid-nineties,
so don’t forget your sunscreen.”
    “Good God!” Kale exploded. “Why
did she have to blow it with that outlandish prediction? Is the woman nuts?”
    Foster punched off the program
with the remote control and stood. “Sounds crazy, but she’s always right.”
    Dumbfounded, Kale stared at his cousin.
“What the hell are you talking about? How can that slip of a girl know more
than the National Weather Service?”
    Foster shrugged. “Beats me. I
think it has something to do with her left ear itching.”
    “Her ear? Holy hell! Now I’ve
heard it all. Our crazy aunt has turned this station into a damned sideshow!”
Kale shot out of his chair and strode to the door. “I’m going to Ravinia’s
house, down a double shot of Scotch, and fall into bed. After I’ve had about
two days of sleep, maybe I can deal with this mess. But not now.”
    “Before you leave, there’s
something I should warn—”
    Kale slammed the door on his
cousin’s words and stalked out of the building, muttering curses and
deprecations that would have melted the strings of Ravinia’s harp if she’d been
listening. How in the hell, in the two weeks vacation he’d scheduled, could he
even begin to bring order to this chaos? It sickened him to think that KRIP,
once the top-rated TV news station of Corpus
Christi and the surrounding area, had
turned into a bad joke.
    *    *    *
    Kale awoke feeling muzzy-headed
and disoriented. In the dim light of the drapery-darkened room, he squinted at
the