As the Wicked Watch(10)



Damn! I wish I could’ve gotten all that on-camera. But there was no way I was getting over here with Scott in tow.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Scott. WE’VE GOT TO GET READY TO ROLL. I’d missed an earlier text from Ellen. WE’RE LEADING WITH BREAKING NEWS.

I turned to Tanya. “Thank you so much, Tanya,” I said, making certain to say her name, another valuable lesson I learned from Mom.

“When someone tells you their name for the first time, look them in the eyes and repeat it back to them. You won’t forget the name and they won’t forget you tried to make a connection. You never know who you will need.”

“We’re about to do a live broadcast,” I told Tanya. “Would you mind saying on-camera what you just told me?”

Tanya McMillan’s smile grew sheepish, and she dropped her head a little. “I don’t wanna be on TV. Look at my hair,” she said, then suddenly looked down at her outfit. “I need to change clothes first!” she exclaimed.

To me she looked great. But as a woman in television who is often criticized for what I wear, the color of my lipstick, and definitely my hair style, I get it. “Girl, I wish we had time for you to change,” I said, code-switching into the Jordan my friends knew.

I know we just met, Tanya, but I need for you to trust me.

“I’ve got to do a live segment in less than five minutes,” I continued. “You look beautiful, and the shot will only be from the chest up. I promise. You look great.”

It wasn’t a lie. She looked like someone on her way to work in a blue polo uniform shirt with a company logo and khakis. She might not look as nice as she would have liked to, but she did look put together and relatable, from my perspective, unlike the people the women at the beauty salon always complained about. “Why do news reporters go out and interview people who make you cringe or still in their hair rollers?” asked Estelle, the receptionist there.

Believe me, it’s not on purpose.

“Okay, come on, girl,” I said. “Let’s go!”

As we hurried back to Scott, a voice called out from behind, “Tanya! Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back, Mama!” she screamed. “I’m about to do an interview on TV!”

The commotion drew attention from the officers at the scene. As we passed the baby-faced cop, he gave me the side-eye. I responded, mouthing the words thank you with an apologetic smile.

By the time we reached Scott, I had less than three minutes to script the segment. I brought him and the field producer, who’d arrived as I went fishing for information, up to speed.

“I’ve got a resident interview. This is Tanya McMillan,” I said.

“Hi, Tanya, how are you?” Scott asked.

“Good,” she responded.

My heart pounded, not only because I was on deadline but because the plot was thickening. A prison crew had discovered a body. Not the surge of cops Fawcett had described earlier out looking for Masey.

Diana Sorano: “We begin today’s broadcast with breaking news on the South Side of Chicago. Channel 8’s Jordan Manning is in Bronzeville, where we are told there has been a gruesome discovery. We go to Jordan live now to tell us more.”

“Good morning, Diana. I don’t know if you can see it from here, but in the distance behind me is an overgrown playground at 45th Street and Calumet Avenue that police are calling a crime scene. Sources inside the department have confirmed that human remains were found here this morning below the ‘L’ tracks.”

I turned to Tanya, who had a horrified look on her face. Shit! In my haste, I’d forgotten to confirm the rumor she heard well before I got there.

Please, Tanya. Keep it together.

“With me is Tanya McMillan. She lives across the street from where the body was found. Earlier today, she saw a crew of prisoners from Cook County Jail in the lot. What were they doing, Tanya?”

“Um, they were cleaning up,” said Tanya, looking and sounding stunned. “Me and my mom were like, ‘Hallelujah! It’s about time,’” she said, replaying the moment as if her Oscar depended on it. “We’ve been trying to get the city to come out and clear that lot for months! They ignored us!”

Tanya’s rounded cheeks were now puffed up in anger. Her eyes sloped. It now hit her in real time what I had just revealed live. I felt horrible about my omission, but I was on live television. I had to go on.

“Oh my God, and that little girl is missing!” Tanya had officially made the unconfirmed connection and lost it. “Oh my God!”

Why? Why did she allude to Masey? Damn it!

I angled my body to the left, away from Tanya. Scott picked up on my cue and focused the shot on me.

“Diana, as you can see, this news is very upsetting to folks here. Tanya told me earlier that her mother and some of the neighbors went to City Hall only a week ago to file a complaint about the condition of the abandoned playground.”

Diana Sorano: “Jordan, what do we know about the victim?”

“Diana, nothing definitive yet. Obviously people are worried it could be connected to the Masey James case, but I stress, no one here has confirmed that. We have to keep in mind Masey’s family are likely hearing this news and fear the worst. Police have scheduled a news conference today at one-thirty here at the scene. Hopefully, they’ll be able to tell us more then. Back to you, Diana.”

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