Satan's Breath Page 3

  “No! No!” she screamed, backing away from him in fright. “If you ever touch me again, I…I swear I’ll kill you so dead! But you’ll n…never get the chance, you b…bastard, because I quit! Do you hear that? I quit, so ram that up your ass and smoke it!”

  Blaze ran out, jumped into her little red MG and zoomed recklessly onto the freeway. She needed the wind in her face, so she traveled mile upon mile, weaving in and out of heavy traffic until she quit shaking. After a while, she pulled up into her own drive and went inside to call her agent.

  “Entertainment by Sanders,” the young voice said cheerfully.

  “Yeah, let me talk to Scott, Melanie. This is Blaze Alexander.” Blaze paced restlessly as she waited for Scott to answer.

  “Hello, sweetie, what’s up?”

  “Hi, Scott, I just quit my job.”

  The handsome, gray-haired man lunged forward in his chair. “What? Why?”

  “Barry Schorr, that’s why. I’ve played my last scene with him on that friggin’ couch. I walked out, and I don’t intend to go back.”

  “But, Blaze, he’s been doing that since the beginning.”

  “No, Scott, he hasn’t been doing it, he’s been trying to do it. There’s a big difference. Today, he had me pinned to the couch with his fuckin’ hand up my skirt.”

  “But you always seemed to be able to handle him before. Why now—?”

  “I’m tired of it, Scott. I don’t need this harassment. For two cents, I’d sue the whole damned station.”

  “Well, get that idea out of your head. You know what they’d tell you.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She ruefully pulled a cigarette out of a pack and lit it with a trembling hand. “With the kind of show I do, it’s the price I pay, I guess.” Blowing smoke, she put her hand up to her head, feeling a headache coming on. “Get me something, Scott. Something far away from here. Anything.”

  “Well, you can write your own ticket, babe, where do you want to go? New Orleans? Philadelphia? Personally, I think you should give Vegas a chance. Bright lights, all that money. They’re your kind of people, Blaze. How about it? Should I call them?”

  “Vegas is out. How about Savannah?” Blaze dropped down on the couch.

  Scott almost strangled on his coffee. “Savannah? Why in God’s name would you want to go to Savannah?”

  “For one thing, it’s clear across the country and light years away from this jerk. God, I’m so tired of big city egos. Besides,” she began, still rubbing her temples, “in all my years in Georgia, I’ve never been to Savannah.”

  “So what? That’s no reason to go back.”

  “I read somewhere that it’s the most beautiful city in America.” After taking a deep draw on her cigarette, she blew the smoke out noisily and frowned curiously. “Did you know that?”

  “No, and I don’t care how beautiful it is, Blaze. It’s not for you.”

  “Well, I’ve made up my mind, Scott. Get me Savannah. I’m counting on you.”

  “It’s Georgia, Blaze. Remember? Dirt roads? Jumping jive joints? I’d advise you to think about this, like for the next fifty years. Hell, Blaze, this is the prudish South we’re talkin’ about. With the kind of show you put on, you’re liable to shock those poor people spitless.”

  Blaze smiled. “I hate to burst your bubble, Scott, but sex is everywhere, even down south. It’s taken over the world, my friend, or didn’t you know that?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Hey, how’s Louise, big guy? By the way, how many kids do you have now?”

  “She’s fine,” Scott answered, “and the last time I counted, there were three.”

  Blaze snickered. “Scott, how could you not know about sex with three kids?”

  “Oh, you’re hilarious. If you decide to give up broadcasting, maybe I can book you as a stand-up comedienne.”

  Blaze laughed. “Call me back when you find something. I’ll be packing.”

  * * * *

  Savannah

  Greg Brannigan felt sick as he sat looking at a pimply, nasal-sounding youth sitting across from his desk. He had interviewed exactly six students from the local broadcasting school, and as desperate as he was, he couldn’t use even one of them.

  “Where the hell is Donald Duck when you need him?” he mumbled to himself while giving the young man a stressed-out smile.

  None of them has had any experience outside the classroom, he thought as he stared down at the application in front of him. And not one seems to be able to carry on a normal conversation. The plain truth was, they were stupid.

  He recalled the first of these juvenile broadcasters that came parading through his office. He was a kinky-headed youth that grabbed Greg’s hand and tried to pump it off while boldly selling himself as a new wave in broadcasting. The next was a laughing freak. He sat there hugging his knees while rocking back and forth, laughing at everything Greg said. And some, like the one he was looking at now, were too timid. If they couldn’t talk to him, they sure as hell couldn’t talk to a city full of people.

  “What in hell is happening to the future of broadcasting?” he muttered, just before the phone rang. He looked up at the young hopeful and smiled thinly, excusing himself. Picking up the phone, he breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t care who it was. He was just thankful for the interruption. “Greg Brannigan speaking.”

  “Yes, Mr. Brannigan. This is Scott Sanders in Los Angeles. You called a couple of days ago inquiring about Blaze Alexander.”

  Greg perked up suddenly, turned from the pimpled face that was making him sick, and hovered over the phone while speaking softly. “Yes, Mr. Sanders, I remember.”

  “I just called to find out if your offer still stands.”

  Greg slid his gaze over at the face full of red, blossoming zits and saw the boy biting his nails and scanning the decor of his office with interest. “Yes, yes, it does, Mr. Sanders. Most definitely.”

  “Well, then, I’ve got good news for you. It seems since I talked to you last a few changes have taken place. Ms. Alexander says she would be happy to accept your offer. When do you need her to start?”

  “On the tenth,” he said, his voice full of dread. “I know it’s asking a lot, but my deejay didn’t give me much notice, and I’m hard-pressed to fill the spot. Do you think she would object to such an early starting date?”

  “Well, I don’t know, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  Greg squirmed in his seat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sanders, but I need to know something now. I wouldn’t press you, but if she can’t be here, then I have to get someone to fill the spot until she arrives.”

  “I see. Well, I’m putting my head in the noose here, Mr. Brannigan, but I’ll make sure she’s there on the tenth. Is that satisfactory?”

  “Yes, sir! By the way, are the terms we discussed all right? She didn’t add anything, did she?”

  “Only a new car, a new apartment, and a live-in lover.”

  “What?”

  Scott chuckled. “I’m just kidding. No, everything meets with her approval as it stands. Be sure and have the contracts drawn up and ready for her signature.”

  “You can count on it,” Greg said gratefully. Just as he was about to hang up, he noticed Scott’s hesitation to end the call.

  “Mr. Sanders,” Greg said curiously. “What’s wrong?”

  “Actually Mr. Brannigan, I feel I should warn you about something.”

  “Oh, God, this sounds like bad news.”

  “No, not really, but since Blaze is going to be working for you, it’s only fair that I tell you a few things about her so you can be prepared.”

  “Yeah?” he said, his skeptical tone of voice apparent. “Like what?”

  “You’ll remember that I mentioned bad memories?”

  “Yes,” Greg said, “but that doesn’t matter now does it?”

  “The truth is, I’m not sure. You see, Blaze had a terrible childhood, Mr. Brannigan, and I’m afraid it’s left her badly scarred.”

 
“Oh, my God, I haven’t hired Norman Bates’ sister, have I?”

  Scott chuckled. “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that she’s rebellious, headstrong, and reckless. She’s got a mouth on her that would make a sailor blush. Because of what she went through with her uncle, she’s anti-men.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “She was raped repeatedly by her uncle.”

  Greg was stunned. “My God!”

  “It began when she was twelve—”

  “Please,” Greg said, interrupting quickly. “Please, spare me the details.”

  “I understand. But as I said, it’s left her very bitter. You just look at her wrong and she’s liable to yank your balls off. Don’t touch her, don’t give her any hint that you even think of her as a woman. I know that sounds strange, but my advice is to give her plenty of space. Under normal conditions, she’s great, but believe me, when she needs to be, she can be as hard as nails.

  “She’s leaving the L.A. station because she claims the station manager put his hand up her skirt. She’s a real beauty, and you’ll be tempted, but just keep your distance. She’s on the petite side. You know, kind of cuddly looking, but don’t let that fool you. She’s got red hair with a temper to match. She’s hot stuff, Mr. Brannigan, but just keep in mind if you get too close to this flame, you’re going to get burned.”

  Greg was silent.

  “Have you changed your mind?”

  “No. No way. I’m just a bit overwhelmed, I guess.”

  “Well, good luck.”

  Greg replaced the receiver, and was silent for a moment when he thought about what Scott had told him. Then remembering that he had Blaze Alexander, he jumped up, and let out a hoot and a holler that sounded all through the small station. The broadcast student looked at him with wide, frightened eyes, then cringed a little as Greg rushed up to him and explained that the job had been filled.

  When Wade heard the sound, he walked over to Greg’s office and peered in. “What in hell are you yelling about? Don’t tell me that one of these geeks actually measures up.”

  “You’re so cold, you’re spittin’ icicles, my friend. I just got off the phone with Scott Sanders in L.A., and guess what? Blaze Alexander accepted our offer!”

  Wade’s mouth fell open. “Get outta town!”

  “It’s true, and I owe it all to you, good buddy.”

  Wade’s eyes lit up. “Is now a good time to ask for a raise?”

  “A raise? What the hell is that? I’m surprised I don’t have to give her part of my salary.”

  “Will she be here by the tenth?”

  “According to her agent, she will.”

  “Man alive, are you in for a big one.”

  Greg’s smile fell, and he looked at Wade with a frown. “A big what?”

  “Surprise. A really big surprise.”

  Greg’s face suddenly became dark. “I don’t like surprises, Wade. Surprises are for birthdays. Birthdays where someone jumps out and says boo! You’re not going to jump out and say boo, are you? Or oops? Because if you are, I might just say something silly like, ‘You’re friggin’ fired!’”

  “What the hell are you yelling at me for? You were willing to take a stranger off the street.”

  Greg came out from behind his desk with murder in his eyes. “You told me she was good, Wade,” he said as he advanced on the sound engineer.

  “She is.” Wade tried to hide a snicker while backing up.

  “In fact, you said incredible!” Greg kept advancing.

  “And I didn’t lie.” Wade suddenly thudded into the wall behind him.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Did I say there was a problem?” Wade folded his arms over his chest while working hard to adapt a sublime, innocent look. It wasn’t working too well.

  “Wade!”

  “How are ratings?” he asked a little too quickly.

  “Holding steady. Not bad, but could be better.”

  “Well, let’s just say you’re gonna get a reaction out of the good people of Savannah the minute Blaze Alexander’s deep, sexy voice goes out over those airwaves.”

  Greg’s eyes narrowed on him, and his voice became breathy while fantasizing murder. “Oh? What kind of reaction?”

  “It’ll be in waves, man. Shock waves. You know, up and down, up and down.”

  “What the hell are you saying, Wade? Did you hook me up with a bum steer?”

  “Not at all. All I’m saying is, look for a baby boom in about nine months.”

  He managed to hold onto his composure while sliding along the wall to the door, but the moment he rounded the threshold, he let go and burst out with laughter.

  * * * *

  Los Angeles

  Blaze sat on her couch watching TV and doing her nails. When the phone rang, she carefully punched the speaker button and continued, trying to keep the tiny brush within the lines. “Yeah, Blaze Alexander here.”

  “Do you get a friggin’ charge out of hearing your own name? Why the hell don’t you just say hello like the rest of the world? And you’ve got me in a well again.”

  “Sorry, but I’m doing my nails.” Blaze lifted her red-tipped hand and blew. “Well, what about it? Did you get me Savannah?”

  “Yes. Against my better judgment, I might add. They say they need you there by the tenth though, and I promised them you’d make it. You’re not going to make me out a liar, are you?”

  “Are you kidding? The sooner I get out of this town, the better I’ll like it.”

  “So your love affair with L.A. is really over, huh? How the hell can you make this move by the tenth? What are you doing with all your junk?”

  “I’ll leave everything here but my clothes. I’ve arranged for the utilities to be cut off in a couple of days, I’ve notified the post office. I may take a few dishes and some knick knacks, but for the most part, I intend to travel light.”

  “Leave the house empty? Bad plan, Blaze. What about your bills? What about burglars?”

  “All my bills are paid including my mortgage, and I’m depending on you to watch my house for me.”

  “You certainly didn’t waste any time, did you?”

  Thinking of the leering face of Barry Schorr looking down at her, she rasped, “I’m choking, Scott. Time to get out.”

  Scott frowned, slight alarm coloring his voice. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.” She cleared her throat. “Frog in my throat, I guess.”

  “Blaze, I give you three months at the most. By that time, I guarantee you’ll be climbing the walls.”

  “Why in God’s name are you being so pessimistic about this move?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. It’s just a feeling, I guess. That town is known for its bluenose, goody-goody attitude. They’ll try to put a lid on you, Blaze, I just know it.”

  “You’re not going to talk me out of it, Scott. Besides, nobody puts a lid on Blaze Alexander.”

  “Well, I hope you’re right. Anyway, you know I’m here if you need me.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Blaze punched the disconnect button quickly, and then wandered out on the balcony with her hands up and fingers spread. She looked down at the twinkling city for the last time. She wasn’t fooling herself. She was running again, and she knew it. Scott thought it was her restless nature. Zip here, zip there. It seemed that all she ever did was run. Since the night she found herself on that dirt road walking away from her past, she’d hardly stopped.

  Tears filled her eyes when she reminded herself that no man had touched her since. She’d tried a few times with those she thought were different, but it was always the same. The minute he got close, she would begin to feel the heat of Satan’s Breath, hear her uncle’s raspy whisper, smell his sweat, and feel his disgusting weight. Just thinking about it brought on a choking sensation.

  While taking a deep, steadying breath, she wondered if that was all that was ahead for her. Running from one place to another. Always hidin
g. Always afraid of someone’s hands, his lips, his body. She felt like a beautiful maiden walled up in a tall castle waiting for her Prince Charming to come and slay the dragon.

  As she looked out into the late-afternoon, sun-laced ocean, she pictured a tall, muscled, handsome, blond fairy tale type dressed in armor and wielding a sword. The vision of the setting sun bouncing off his armor was so beautiful. Suddenly, a gush of tears fell down her cheeks, and she lowered her head and cried.

  I’m not asking for much, just someone stronger than the dragon in my life that constantly rears its ugly head.

  One thing she did know, there were no Prince Charmings in Savannah. Nothing but dirt roads and rednecks. If she were looking for a handsome prince, she could have accepted one of the other offers. So why didn’t she? Her chances of meeting someone would be much greater.

  Seeing Barry’s face suddenly loom up before her, she knew the ugly truth. She was afraid of meeting someone. But why go back to where it all started? Back to the haunting memories of a dirty little girl with bare feet and ragged clothes. She was proud of the way she had risen up out of her poverty and reigned as queen of the late-night airwaves. She had money, cars, furs, and they all wanted her, but she chose Savannah. Why? What could she ever find worth having way down south where Satan’s Breath still roamed?

  * * * *

  At midnight, hands of every age, color, and sex reached out for their radio dials. Mothers, relaxing in a tub after a hard day with their families, lonely men in need of a soothing voice, teenagers gathered on the beach listening for the totally sexy voice of their favorite deejay, marriages on the rocks that depended on Blaze’s spicy repertoire to bring them together again, executives, labor workers, playboys, parties, bars, and couples snuggling together, all preparing for the deep, whispery, smoky voice of L.A.’s famed Queen of Steam.

  But instead, they heard a strange voice saying words and playing music that left them cold. Suddenly, the hot, sultry blanket turned cold, and disappointment fell over the city. The night lost its magic, and fevered embraces suddenly became cold. Who would set fire to their cool desires? Who would spice up their night, and guide them into the land of enchantment with her deep, whispery voice and magic words of love? The phone lines at the station lit up like ten thousand Christmas trees.