Billy All Night
Jun. 22nd, 2010 06:00 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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monaboyd_monthTitle: Billy All Night - Chapter 4
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dylan_dufresne
Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: Adult
Summary: AU. Dom's a career-obsessed producer at a local radio station. Billy's in town to do a favor for a family friend.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated as it’s my drug of choice. Thanks tonot_a_lamb for the beta.
Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. This is my imagination at work.
A/N: Based on a book I read years ago. To cover myself, I’m going to call this an adaptation.
Previous: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Billy is still scowling when he gets back to Dom’s office. Pushing Michael’s buttons was a stupid move, and he hates being stupid, although he really should be used to it by now.
“What’s wrong?” Dom asks looking up from the blanket-covered basket on his desk. “You look upset.”
“Not me.”
“Are you sure?” Dom looks dubious.
Billy tosses the handbook onto Dom’s desk next to the wicker basket, feeling like an utter and complete fuckwit. “Michael fell down, sort of.”
Dom freezes. “Fell down?”
Sitting down, Billy leans back and sips his coffee. “He’s not hurt. It wasn’t that far to the floor.
“And I suppose you had a reason?”
He insulted you, and for some reason I lose my mind every time I think of you. Billy shrugs. “I didn’t like his looks.”
“Right.” Dom rolls his eyes and leans against the edge of the desk. “What did he say about me?”
That’s another problem with Dom. He’s too damn sharp. “Don’t be so conceited.”
“Michael doesn’t know you well enough to insult you,” Dom points out. “What did he say about me?”
“His very existence insults me. Can we get back to business?”
“I’ll find out anyway.” After waiting for a long moment, Dom gives up and picks up a folder from the desk. “Okay. Fine. We’ll do business. Any questions so far?”
There’s one question that’s been bugging Billy since yesterday. “Aye. How did an idiot like Michael get to be a star around here?”
Dom blinks at him. “He’s not an idiot. He’s a good broadcaster. His voice is clear and it makes people feel good. Plus, he’s great at PR. He’s good looking, and his picture’s been plastered all over the city on billboards. He pulls a pretty good female audience.”
Not quite sure why he cares, Billy scowls harder. “So why isn’t he on tv?”
“He’s really shy.” Dom’s face softens, which only serves to annoy Billy. “I know he comes across as a conceited jerk, but he’s really unsure of himself. He’s never even thought about tv. All those cameras? He’d have a nervous breakdown.”
“Shy.” Billy snorts in derision.
“Hey, not everybody is as comfortable with himself as you are,” Dom fires back, holding Billy’s gaze. “You’re exactly who you want to be, doing exactly what you want to do. That’s pretty rare. Michael doesn’t have your confidence, so he relies on his good looks to get him through, but he’s still anxious. All the time.”
Billy focuses on the part of the argument he likes the least. “He’s not good looking.”
“Yes, he is. Some have said that he looks a bit like Richard Gere before he went grey.”
“Michael’s going grey?” Billy can’t quite hide a smirk.
“Richard’s grey,” Dom retorts. “Michael’s still tall, dark and handsome. That makes women swoon.”
Billy slumps lower in his chair. “He’s medium, dark and-”
“What?”
“A first class arse.” Suddenly, Billy looks up at Dom suspiciously. “Are you still swooning?”
Lowering his eyes, a blush spreads across Dom’s cheeks. “No. I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been cured. Thanks to you.”
Billy’s spirits rise dramatically. “My pleasure, believe me.”
When Dom smiles at him, Billy feels himself falling back into lust. Oh no. A firm mental tug pulls him back to the present.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Billy says, shaking his head. No more Dom. They’ll work together at the station where it’s nearly impossible to shag - especially not on Dom’s desk - and he definitely needs to find a new place to live. He’ll take Dom to dinner tonight, let him down easy and then move to a motel. Good plan. He suppresses a sigh of relief at being back in control and returns to the problem of the station. “Remind me. Who’s on before me?”
“David, the Australian you met in the lobby.”
Michael’s companion in the break room. “I think I just met him again. Calm sort of a bloke.”
Dom nods. “Exactly. That’s what I keep telling him, but he insists on the ‘big and loud’ persona when he's on the air. Which is not your problem. In fact, I don’t see that you’ve got any problems.” He beams to Billy with the Positive Career Talk smile.
“I’m taking over for a paranoid gun-nut, and you think I have no problems?”
“Of course not. After Karl, anybody is a step up. And we’ve been at the bottom of the ratings for so long, all you can do is go up. Just remember, we’re a light rock and easy-listening station, and you can’t go wrong.”
“Well, that’s our first problem. I’m not an easy-listening kind of bloke.”
The exasperation in Dom’s expression is clear. “You must’ve known we weren’t hard rock or heavy metal when you signed on.”
Billy shakes his head. “Ian told me me I could play what ever I wanted.”
”Which is?”
“Everything.” Billy leans back and tries to sound as if he knows what he’s doing. “I like it all. The way I figure it, I’ll talk to people and they can call in and talk back and in between I play music I like.”
Dom shrugs. “Well, Ian is a lot of things, but a liar he isn’t. If he said you could do that here, you can do that here. You better go look at our library. I don’t know how much of a variety we have or what you’d be looking for.”
“Well, I’ll just have to give Ian a shopping list.” Sneering at the handbook on Dom’s desk, Billy shoves it further away. “I don’t need this. As long as I don’t do anything to give the FCC a heart attack, I’ll be okay.”
“All right. Now, what do you need to get your show started?” Dom asks.
“Nothing.” Billy leans back and opens his hands in a gesture of embracing the world, back in control again. “I can do it all.”
“Great.” Rising from the desk, Dom turns and pulls the wicker basket on his desk closer to him. “There’s just one other little thing we have to do tonight.” Reaching under the blanket, he pulls out a doll-sized baby bottle. “Samson needs to be fed every hour. We’re going to cover this until two o’clock. Sean will do the rest. I’ve already called him and he’s fine with it.”
“Samson?” Billy repeats, totally confused.
“The station puppy.” Dom pulls back the blanket and Billy rises to his feet to look over the edge.
The tiny dark shape inside looks like an undersize chocolate Twinkie. “That’s a puppy?”
“Well, he’s small right now, but he’s going to get a lot bigger.” Dom attempts to nudge the bottle into the puppy’s mouth, but he makes no movement to take it.
Another one of Dom’s lost causes. First Michael, then Billy’s show, and now this puppy. Billy squints at the tiny scrap of protoplasm Dom insists is a dog. “Are you sure it’s not dead?”
He takes a step back when Dom’s blazing eyes meet his. “This puppy is not going to die.”
“All right,” Billy replies. He’s not going to mention the experience he’s had with animals while helping out on his uncle’s farm during summer vacations, and how all of it tells him that Samson is doomed. He’s not going to fight Dom on this. “Where’s his mother?”
“He’s the runt. Things didn’t work out between them,” Dom explains while tipping the bottle so the formula runs into the puppy’s mouth without his suckling. “See?” he says triumphantly. “He’s going to be just fine.”
Sitting back down, Billy watches Dom work over the puppy, tickling his tiny throat to get him to swallow. Well, if anyone can save an embryo dog, Dom can. He’s only known Dom twenty-four hours, but he already has a healthy respect for the Englishman’s determination.
“We may have to do this every half hour,” Dom tells him. “He’s not getting enough this way. He’s got to learn to suck.”
So now he’s a dog nurse, too. Well, he likes dogs. And if this is what Dom wants... “All right.”
Dom covers the basket again. “He’s going to make it. I know he is.”
At least when the dog dies, Billy will be there to comfort Dom.
Platonically.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Billy spends the next two hours checking out the tape library and meeting with Andy, the night engineer. Andy is an odd bloke, and is not a ball of fire when it comes to engineering, but he’s something that Billy finds far more useful: a talker. After thirty minutes with Andy, Billy knows more about the station than Ian probably does. And the one indisputable fact he gleans, is that Dom is universally admired at the station. Michael, on the other hand, is not.
“Dom is good people,” Andy tells him. “He gets things done without making a big deal of it. Michael is just a . . .”
“Egotistical fuckwit?”
“That would cover it,” Andy agrees with a chuckle.
Cheered by the knowledge that not everyone at WCRB is certifiable, Billy goes back out into the city to find something to talk about for his first night on the air. Nothing too controversial, he vows. No waves.
No problem.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Dom is standing in the lobby with his hands on his hips when Billy walks in an hour before his show.
“Ian was looking for you earlier. You were supposed to meet him a five o’clock. Michael apologizes for whatever he said. Ian says you are never to strike another employee here again. And don’t play liberal garbage on the air. Where have you been?”
Billy grins as he takes in Dom’s rumpled appearance, hair mussed and long-sleeved shirt discarded leaving the t-shirt beneath. Dom’s eyes are full of fire and challenge, and his glasses have slipped down the bridge of his nose, as usual. The urge to push them up is strong, but Billy manages to resist. They’re not that close. They’re not going to be that close.
“I missed you, too,” Billy replies. “And I didn’t hit Michael. He fell over all by himself. What do you know about the city building on main street?”
Turning on his heel, Dom strides down the hall to his office, Billy trailing behind, taking the opportunity to admire the swing of Dom’s hips in his trousers.
“It’s one of the oldest buildings in the city,” Dom replies over his shoulder. “The marble is Italian. It’s a popular place for intimate weddings. The mayor wants to build a new one. That’s about it. What do you want me to find out about it?”
“Nothing.” Rubbing a hand over the back of his head and mussing up his hair, Billy follows Dom into his office. “The tape library isn’t too bad. I can fake it for a while.”
“Good.” Shifting from one foot to the other, Dom exhales gustily. “Shut the door and sit down.”
“Why?” The wariness in Billy’s tone is clear as he closes the door.
“I just need to talk to you for a minute,” Dom replies and then swallows nervously. “This is about us. I’ve been thinking all afternoon...”
Billy flinches internally as he sinks down and leans back in the chair. Bugger. He should’ve said something earlier, before Dom started making plans for their future. “Listen, before you say anything, I think you’re a terrific bloke, but I’m not ready for a-”
“Great,” Dom interrupts, sitting down across from Billy. “Don’t think for a minute that I didn’t enjoy last night. I did. A lot. I just don’t think it should happen again.” Beaming, Dom looks up at Billy. “I’m glad you feel the same way.”
“Well...” Billy stops, not knowing what to say.
“Not that we can’t still be friends,” Dom continues. “And even roommates. I talked to Orli while you in the shower this morning, and if you’d like to stay with us on the couch for the time you’ll be here, it’s all right.”
“Oh, well...” Billy nods slowly, his head wobbling slightly as tries to gather his thoughts. “Uh, sure. Good.”
“Great.” Rising to his feet, Dom scoops up some papers from his desk, clearly eager to get back to work. “I’ll ring Orli and tell him before the show starts.”
“Good.” Billy stands up. “Well, I’m glad that’s settled. I, uh, I think I’ll go watch David for a while.”
Dom waves at Billy as he leaves, then turns his attention the pile of papers in his other hand and the filing cabinet. Efficient at all times, that’s Dom.
It’s very irritating.
Why don’t you feel better about this? Billy wonders as he heads for the broadcast booth. This is what he wants. Dom has even taken care of it for him. Just the way he’s taken care of almost everything since the moment they met. Billy shakes his head, realizing that he’d wanted to be the one to break things off. Oh, well. Dom’s loss.
Billy walks off down the hall, wondering why he feels so empty if it’s Dom’s loss.
Inside the office, behind the safety of a closed door, Dom tosses the papers down on the desk beside Samson’s basket, and sits back. He’s glad. Pleased. Relieved. Something like that. At last, he’s made a mature, adult decision about a relationship, and now he can concentrate on the important stuff, like making Billy’s show a hit.
Oh, is he glad.
Really.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Looking through the window into the broadcast booth, Billy watches David speak animatedly into the microphone, hands moving up and down the console almost frantically. Loud and proud David.
Great. First he gets kicked out of Dom’s bed and now he’s following a bloke who thinks the louder the better.
When David stops talking and leans back in his chair, Billy taps lightly on the glass, and David motions him in with a smile.
"Nice job on Michael in the break room," David says with a grin as Billy enters the booth. "Look Ma, no hands."
It's impossible not to grin back, Billy discovers, as David simply radiates goodwill. "Thanks, but I should've known better."
"Why? Michael didn't." Turning his attention to the console in front of him, David gestures at the brand new piece of equipment. "Anything you need to know about here?"
"Why don't you give me a fast refresher," Billy suggests lightly, pretending he doesn't notice the strange look David gives him at his response.
Choosing not to ask any questions, David explains the how the noise level on the CD players are controlled by the red plastic sliding tabs on the console. Billy does just fine until David tells him that if more than one slide is up at the same time, then they'll all be heard, and then he begins to discuss the three thousand different ways the slides can be combined for effect.
"Great," Billy says when David is finished and he's completely lost. "I think I'll just stick with one at a time."
David shrugs. "Whatever."
"Do you mind if I sit in here and watch the rest of your show?" Billy asks, hoping that he'll learn by watching whatever he hasn't by listening.
"Sure. Anytime," David replies before returning to the microphone to announce that his listeners have just heard a 'Loud n' Proud' triple play.
That's when Billy discovers that the volume is actually worse inside the booth than it is on air.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
At nine fifty-eight, Dom takes his seat at the production console and watches through the window as Billy leans against the wall and David hunches over the microphone. Billy looks relaxed against the white acoustic tile, and Dom follows the lines of Billy's arms with his eyes, his gaze coming to rest on Billy's hands. Smaller hands than he's used to, but agile and magical, especially Billy's fingers. Lovely hands, indeed.
Giving his head a shake, Dom wrenches his thoughts back to the show that's about to begin. Fingers don't count in radio. Just in bed. And from now on, they're just in radio, not in bed. Tonight is the first night in Dom's new career. If he's going to make Billy a star - and he is - tonight is the night to study Billy, to see how he works. Then Dom'll know how to shape the show, how to publicize it, how to make Billy the flavor of the month. Dom feels his heart beat faster and he grins at himself. I'll be back on top in no time. Turning his attention back to the booth, Dom keeps his mind firmly off Billy's body and strictly on his potential. For radio.
David is just wrapping thing up for his show. "And that's it for tonight for you wild and crazy fans out there. Next up is the new bloke on the block, Wild Bill Boyd!"
When David lowers the microphone slide down and the music slide up, Dom hears the 'Monster Mash' come up on the speakers.
Wild Bill? Poor Billy. Well, I can fix that. I can fix everything as long as I keep my concentration. Dom's going to make Billy a star if it kills them both.
Billy and David talk for a few minutes while the song plays out, and then the Australian comes out to join Dom. "The news is punched up and ready," David says, then frowns slightly. "I thought Ian said Billy had a lot of experience."
"That's what Ian told me," Dom replies, keeping an eye on the phone lines in front of him while he talks. The chances of anyone calling in are slim, but he's prepared to nurture anyone who does, even on the first night. "He spent a couple of years at a station north of here, about five hours drive."
"He sure doesn't act like it," David comments, then shrugs. "Oh well. It's not like it's brain surgery. If I can do it, anyone can."
"Stop that," Dom fires back as he looks up at David, his exasperation clear. "You're very good. You'd be even better if you turned the volume down a little, but you're still good. And no more Wild Bill."
"How does he want to be intro-ed?"
"Well, he doesn't want to be called William or Will, so anything along those lines are out." Dom sits back, brow furrowing in thought. They need a good title. A catch phrase. "Just Billy is too bland. Billy Late Night?"
David shakes his head. "Sounds like Letterman."
"Okay, uh, Billy At Night?"
David shakes his head again. "Boring."
"Billy Overnight? Billy Midnight? Billy All Night?"
"That last one is good," David says. "Kind of sexy. He's got the voice for it."
Dom tries not to look too hopeful. "You think he's going to be good?"
"Hard to tell." Shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, David clears his throat. "Listen Dom, I, uh, I was wondering if..."
When he trails off, Dom is left with the nearly unheard-of occurrence of a speechless David.
"Yes?" Dom prompts gently with a nod, trying to be encouraging without being blatantly obvious.
David swallows. "I know you don't have time to work on my show, but if you could give me a few tips, well, I'd really-"
"Turn down the volume," Dom says firmly. "You're an intelligent, funny bloke who has lots of knowledge to share. So do it."
"I've always been loud. I don't know anything else."
When Dom realizes that David is completely serious, he sighs. "Let me think about it, and I'll get back to you tomorrow. Okay?"
David grins, his whole face lighting up. "Thanks, Dom. That's great." Looking over his shoulder at Billy, who is surveying his new domain with what looks like equal parts apprehension and terror, David adds, "I'd stay on top of him tonight, if I were you. He looks like he's going to blow."
"Not Billy," Dom says loyally, but he's not reassured by Billy's expression. "He'll be okay once he starts talking."
"That's usually when I screw up," David adds.
When the news is over, they both watch as Billy leans over the console, pushing the microphone slide up and the CD slide down. He then speaks into the microphone, his Scottish lilt filling the production booth for the first time.
"This is Billy Boyd on WCRB, and I'm not very wild. I just play good music and talk to people. I arrived yesterday, and I have to say it's beautiful place you've got here, but I've got a few questions about your new city building."
Dom looks at David, hoping for some additional information, but instead sees confusion reflected in the Australian's eyes.
"But mostly I just like it here," Billy continues. "This is a great place to do a wee bit of late-night talking and and play some late-night rock and roll. This one is for my new hometown."
A moment later, Letters to Cleo comes on with 'I Want You to Want Me,' and Dom grins.
Now if Billy gives Dom some scope, he can move him from fun to fantastic. Billy has a great voice and a terrific personality, and wonderful hands-
Scratch that last part.
Determined, Dom pulls his attention back to the show. Billy's really good. For some moral support, David listens for a while and then says good night, giving Billy a thumbs-up sign through the booth window as he leaves. Billy nods in response and shifts his gaze to Dom.
"You're doing great," Dom tells him, doing his best cheerleader imitation through the production microphone. It's like being back with Michael, except this time Dom's telling the truth. "Your voice is terrific. No wonder you were a hit at your last station."
Saying nothing, Billy shrugs his shoulders. The song comes to an end, and he works the slides again, leaning in closer to the microphone. "Like I said before, I'm not that wild, but I don't mind having a few laughs now and then, for all the right reasons. One of those reasons seems to me to be this new city building His Honor the Mayor wants built."
Dom freezes at the console. No. Not the mayor. Ian plays poker with him every Thursday. This is not the way to build an audience, this is the way to build an enemy. An enemy they don't need, especially if it's the boss. Dom attempts to shake his head at Billy through the window, but Billy is oblivious, concentrating on the microphone.
"Now, I'm new in town," Billy continues, "so maybe you can call in and tell me why I'm wrong, but I was in your old city building today, and it's a beautiful place. Marble floors, frosted glass, lots of wood paneling, and it's the real wood paneling, not that splintery stuff you can buy cheap at the lumberyard. This is a building that was made with good materials, fine workmanship, and above all, pride. It's the kind of building that might inspire a politician who works there to take the service part of being a public servant seriously. Now, if you laughed at that, my friend, you're a cynic. Shame on you."
Clasping his hands in front of him, Dom sends up a fervent prayer. Don't say anything dumb, Billy. Please.
"So where's the joke? Well, have you seen the model for the new city building? If not, I recommend that you make a trip to the planning office in the old building downtown, and have yourself a laugh. It looks like a parking garage with windows, which might be pretty appropriate for the politicians around here - a place to park and watch the world go by. Of course, like I said, I'm new in town, so I don't really know much about your politicians. Except that if they prefer this new concrete bunker to their old marble palace, they have lousy taste in architecture.
"If you think the old city building deserves another hundred years, call in and let the city know why. And if you think the new plan is better, well, call in and tell me I'm wrong. In the meantime, this one's for the city building. Hang in there, old lady."
When Aretha Franklin's 'Rescue Me' begins playing, Dom puts his head in his hands and allows himself a moment of panic. Then reality sets in. Ian never listens to the show, and Dom's pretty sure the mayor doesn't, either. The station played opera for the past week to fill the airtime, and before that was Karl and the aliens. Billy probably didn't have more than four people listening to him tonight, and they're going to be angry that he's not discussing the Martian question. There's nothing to worry about.
Dom's almost convinced himself that things are fine, and then the phone rings.
"WCRB, this is the Billy Boyd show," Dom says, bracing himself for the worst.
The voice on the other end of the line is that of an older man, raspy and loud. "Yeah, let me talk to that disc jockey fellow."
"Certainly, sir. Can I tell him what you'd like to say?"
"No, damn it, I'm going to do that."
"Uh, right. Sure." Dom hesitates, knowing he really should find out what the caller wants before turning him over to Billy. On the other hand, the man obviously isn't going to tell Dom anything, and it's a bad idea to alienate any callers. After all, this might be the only one Billy gets. It's a chance for Dom to see how Billy handles himself with callers. "Could I have your name, please?"
"Bernard Hill."
"You've got a caller," Dom tells Billy over the production microphone. "A Mr. Bernard Hill."
When Billy nods, Dom transfers the call to the booth. A moment later, Samson whimpers at Dom's feet, and he ducks under the desk to see what's wrong. The puppy actually seems hungry, so Dom hurries to drip more formula into his tiny mouth, giving all his attention to the animal until Billy comes back on the air after the song finishes.
"I've been talking to Bernard from up north of the city limits. He tells me he was around when part of the building was constructed. Right, Bernard?"
"Like I was telling you, we put that back wing up on my first construction job. I wasn't more than seventeen."
"Well, Bernard, you did a great job."
"Hell, yes."
"Don't say hell, Bernard. The FCC doesn't like it."
"My wife doesn't either. The hell with her."
"But about the city building, Bernard," Billy says, steering the conversation back to the topic of discussion.
"Well, you're right about one thing. That building was built to last. Any dang fool can see that."
"Even me," Billy interjects.
"Even you. Even that other dang fool Brad Dourif."
"Mayor Dourif seems pretty sold on the new building."
"Of course he does," Bernard retorts. "His son is going to get the contract."
Billy says "What?" and Dom raises his head so fast he smacks it on the underside of the producer's desk.
"Check into it, boy. The contract will say Somebody or Other Construction, but you follow the trail back and you'll find Jonathan Dourif's name on it."
Oh, no. Not this. Dom rubs the back of his head and tries to think fast.
"I think that's slander, Bernard."
"Not if it's true," Bernard retorts. "I may be getting older, but I'm not stupid."
"That's for sure," Billy agrees. "Well Bernard, you've certainly made my first night on the job one to remember. And possibly my last night on the job, too. Thanks for calling, and ring me up to tell me I'm a fool again sometime. You remind me a bit of my Da. I'm glad you were listening in."
"I wasn't," Bernard admits. "My teen-aged grandson listens to that Loud and Proud fellow and we kinda fell into your show."
“Well, drop in anytime."
"Will do, son. Good luck on saving that building."
"Thanks. I'm going to need all the help I can get." There's a click on the line, and Bernard is gone. "Of course, I've already had more luck than any new bloke in town deserves. My first caller is quite a character, and the first bloke I met in town yesterday is the type who leaves an impression, even when he says goodbye, which he did just this afternoon. Fortunately, I've had a fair bit of experience with rejection. Anyway, this is for that bloke who said I insulted him at the bar yesterday. Trust me, I meant it in the nicest possible way."
Dom shakes his head when he hears Fine Young Cannibals slide into 'She’s Drives Me Crazy.'
"Very funny, Billy," Dom says into the production microphone. "About the city building-"
"I didn't mean to, believe me," Billy interjects. "I thought it would be a nice, friendly kind of topic."
"Ian's a backer of Brad Dourif."
Billy snorts in derision. "He would be. He's just like my uncle."
"Your uncle back mayors?"
"My uncle buys mayors." Billy turns away from the window on his swivel chair and begins reloading the CD stack for the next round of music. "Oh well. At least nobody's listening."
Just me. Dom watches Billy push the slides for the next thirty minutes, playing music and talking to three callers who want to put in their two cents about the city building. Things are going well. In fact, four callers in the first forty-five minutes of a new show is phenomenal.
They're safe.
But safe makes for lousy radio.
Dom can fix that.
Of course, they don't want to make enemies, but since nobody seems too upset about the mayor's son, that isn't a problem. And Billy's great with callers, absolutely brilliant, actually. More people should know that. Of course, Billy doesn't want to be famous, but this is a civic issue, and Dom has a civic duty.
And he wants the show to be a hit.
"I'm scum," Dom tells Samson, who is fast asleep in his basket. "Career-obsessed, pathetic scum." Then he picks up the phone, gets an outside line, and dials the mayor's phone number.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Billy's feeling pretty good at the moment. He liked Bernard and the three people who called in after him, the console is brand new and a piece of cake to run, and it doesn't really matter if he's a success or not at this hour of the night. Then there’s the fact that it’s actually fun. Once again, his life is under control. He’ll have all his days to track down that damn letter, figure out who wrote it, and then he can play radio at night until he finishes the job and leaves in November.
Life doesn’t get much better.
Then Dom’s voice comes through his headphones. “Caller on line two.”
“Who’s this one?”
“The mayor.”
Billy swings around to stare at Dom through the window, but he just shrugs, smiles and pushes the button to transfer the call to Billy.
“Who the hell is this?”
“Uh, Billy Boyd,” he answers, shooting an agonizing glance at the digital readout on the console. Fifteen seconds until the last song is over.
“Well, what the hell is going on down there? Where’s Ian? What is this garbage?”
He sounds like an overbearing, handshaking politician. Billy has met a lot of them growing up and didn’t like them. Still, it’s not his job to make waves. “We’ve been talking about the city building, sir.”
“Well, stop it. It’s none of your damn business.”
Billy takes a deep breath. “Well, it’s the taxpayers business, since they’re going to be paying for it.”
“Screw the taxpayers. You shut up about that building or I’ll have your job. I can do it, too, don’t think I can’t. Ian’s a good friend of mine. You just shut up, boy.”
Five seconds. Billy has no doubt that he’s going to regret this, but laying low has been a lost cause as soon as the mayor started yelling. “We’re going to be on the air now, mayor, so whatever you say is broadcast. You might want to ease up on the ‘screw the taxpayers’ bit since most of them are voters, too.”
“I don’t want-”
“And welcome back,” Billy says into the microphone. “We’ve got a real treat tonight. Mayor Brad Dourif has called in to talk about the city building. You’re on, Mayor.”
“I’m what?”
“You’re on the air.”
“Oh. Well-”
"Now, do you want to explain again how you feel about the taxpayers and the city building?"
Through the window, Billy watches Dom put his head down on the producer's console. Brad must have been right about Ian. Oh well. Win some, lose some. Shrugging, Billy goes back to listening to the mayor tie himself into knots. Public speaking is evidently not what had gotten him elected into office. His sentences seem to lack verbs, which is par for any politician. All nouns, no action.
When the mayor winds down, buried under his compound subjects, Billy steps in. "So what exactly is the rationale behind the new city building, Mayor? I understand the new building has less space than the old one."
That statement sets Brad off again, babbling about heating bills, big windows, all that marble, and the stairs. Brad doesn't seen seem to have a grasp as to why the last three things are a problem, he just knows that they are factors.
"Anything you want to say about your son, the contractor?" Billy asks when the mayor sputters to a close.
"Fine businessman. Pillar of the community. I'm proud to call him family."
Brad meanders on, yet again, while Billy waits for a verb. "Does he have the contract for the city building?"
"Of course not. I don't know. I don't award contracts. The stalwart citizens on the building committee do that. Pillars of the community.”
Shaking his head, Billy gives up. "Well, thanks for calling, Mayor. I'm sure the town is reassured now."
"Proud to do my duty."
Billy pushes the button to start the CD player and shoves the slide up until music fills his headphones. Unfortunately, or perhaps poetically, the song is Paul Simon's 'Still Crazy After All These Years.'
He's screwed, as usual. Billy thinks about it for a moment, and then starts to laugh.
Stunned, Dom leans back in the producer's chair, not sure who he is in the most trouble with - the mayor, Ian or Billy. He thought maybe talking to the mayor would boost Billy's credentials. The mayor could give his side of the situation, and Billy could discuss it with him. Serious talk radio. Maybe a nice mention of it in The Tribune tomorrow since the mayor pretty much owns the paper.
Dom didn't count on Billy being a hell-raiser. Asking about the mayor's son. Pissing off the mayor. Bloody hell.
"You still there, Boyd?"
Startled at the sound, Dom leans forward and adjusts his headphones. "Uh, no he's not Mayor Dourif. This is Dominic Monaghan, the prod-"
"Well, you're fired. And so is he."
Then all Dom hears is dial tone.
Slumping in his chair, Dom attempts to figure out the probable outcome of the mess he's created. Ian won't fire him, Dom's pretty sure. Ian's not dumb, and if he is, Patty certainly isn't.
Billy could be vulnerable, though. And it's Dom's fault.
All right, he’ll just go in first thing in the morning and tell Ian he called the mayor. It’s not Billy’s fault.
Then the phone rings, and Dom gets back to work.
By one o’clock in the morning, Billy has talked to eleven callers about the city building, all of them telling Billy that he’s right and one asking if the mayor was drunk.
“No, I think he always talks like that,” was Billy’s response, and the caller could only wonder why anyone would vote for Mayor Dourif. There were a few nonpolitical calls: one male caller wanted to know what Billy said to the bloke in the bar, and three female callers offered to show Billy the city and insult them all he wants.
“Get me out of this,” Billy requests from the booth, just shy of begging, and Dom shuts down the lines for the night.
“Go home,” Billy tells Dom through the microphone. “Andy’s here if I need anything technical. I’m just going to play music from now on. I don’t ever want to hear about the city building again.”
Dom has been working since four o’clock in the afternoon, Billy’s show is off to a better than great start, and guilt is making him groggy. He’s done his job and then some. “Thanks,” Dom replies. “I’m going to take you up on that.”
Handing Samson over to Billy, Dom tells him how to feed the puppy and then watches while the Scotsman administers the bottle to the rhythm of Eric Clapton. Even in Billy’s smaller than average hand, Samson looks tiny, and Dom forgets his career entirely as he watches Billy try to drip formula into the puppy’s mouth. Sam tries to drink a little and then gives up, but Billy keeps on coaxing, ginger hair shining in the booth light as he bends over the little body, massaging Sam’s tummy with his thumb. “C’mon, Sam,” he urges softly, and Dom shuts his eyes, praying that the puppy will make it.
He really doesn’t need any more trauma. He’s due for some success here, and Sam might as well share it. “He’s going to make it.” Dom says out loud, causing Billy to look up at him.
“We’ll give it our best shot. Go on. You’re knackered.”
Dom nods, and leaves the booth.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Billy sounds even better at home when Dom’s in bed, wrapped up in his coverlet. His voice is sexy and soothing, and he plays a lot of different music, including a triple play of David Bowie, Radiohead and The Beatles, always leading smoothly from one song to the next as though the music is part of what Billy’s saying.
Dom’s almost disappointed when Billy wraps up the show at two o’clock.
“Well, that’s it for me tonight,” Billy says. “Sean Astin’s coming up next with some background on crystals and healing and your sun sign’s lucky numbers for tomorrow. He tells me that he’s going to be playing some whale songs a little later. For those of you who haven’t heard whale songs, that probably sounds like a joke, but keep an open mind and you’ll hear music that is truly unearthly. To get you over to Sean, here’s Judy Collins doing her duet with a whale in ‘Farewell to Tarwathie.’ Listen closely out there, this is the music of the deep.”
As promised, ‘Hunting the Whale’ begins, and Dom closes his eyes to listen. The song is so lovely that the last notes seem to hang in the air next to him.
The next thing he hears is Sean, saying, “This is Sean Astin taking you into the hours while the city sleeps. If you didn’t hear Billy Boyd’s show just before this, you missed what he said about our beautiful city building. There are so many old voices echoing through those halls, and tearing it down would be like ripping those voices apart. Go visit the old building tomorrow, feel the power of it, and then go to the mayor and tell him that tearing down that structure is destroying the spirit of public service in our fair city. And now, before I begin tonight’s discussion on the healing power of the crystal, let’s listen to a recording of some North Atlantic whales. This one’s for you, Billy.”
Good for Billy, Dom thinks to himself. He’s got Sean on his side. There’s comfort in that realization, and Dom welcomes it. Sean is a little different, but his people instincts are excellent. If he likes Billy, than Billy is good people. Period.
Turning off the lamp on the night stand, Dom listens to the whale sounds in the dark, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.
Dom hasn’t been asleep more than half an hour when Billy nudges him in the back.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
To be continued . . .
Author:
dylan_dufresne Pairing: BB/DM
Rating: Adult
Summary: AU. Dom's a career-obsessed producer at a local radio station. Billy's in town to do a favor for a family friend.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated as it’s my drug of choice. Thanks to
not_a_lamb for the beta.Disclaimer: Not at all true in reality. This is my imagination at work.
A/N: Based on a book I read years ago. To cover myself, I’m going to call this an adaptation.
Previous: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Billy is still scowling when he gets back to Dom’s office. Pushing Michael’s buttons was a stupid move, and he hates being stupid, although he really should be used to it by now.
“What’s wrong?” Dom asks looking up from the blanket-covered basket on his desk. “You look upset.”
“Not me.”
“Are you sure?” Dom looks dubious.
Billy tosses the handbook onto Dom’s desk next to the wicker basket, feeling like an utter and complete fuckwit. “Michael fell down, sort of.”
Dom freezes. “Fell down?”
Sitting down, Billy leans back and sips his coffee. “He’s not hurt. It wasn’t that far to the floor.
“And I suppose you had a reason?”
He insulted you, and for some reason I lose my mind every time I think of you. Billy shrugs. “I didn’t like his looks.”
“Right.” Dom rolls his eyes and leans against the edge of the desk. “What did he say about me?”
That’s another problem with Dom. He’s too damn sharp. “Don’t be so conceited.”
“Michael doesn’t know you well enough to insult you,” Dom points out. “What did he say about me?”
“His very existence insults me. Can we get back to business?”
“I’ll find out anyway.” After waiting for a long moment, Dom gives up and picks up a folder from the desk. “Okay. Fine. We’ll do business. Any questions so far?”
There’s one question that’s been bugging Billy since yesterday. “Aye. How did an idiot like Michael get to be a star around here?”
Dom blinks at him. “He’s not an idiot. He’s a good broadcaster. His voice is clear and it makes people feel good. Plus, he’s great at PR. He’s good looking, and his picture’s been plastered all over the city on billboards. He pulls a pretty good female audience.”
Not quite sure why he cares, Billy scowls harder. “So why isn’t he on tv?”
“He’s really shy.” Dom’s face softens, which only serves to annoy Billy. “I know he comes across as a conceited jerk, but he’s really unsure of himself. He’s never even thought about tv. All those cameras? He’d have a nervous breakdown.”
“Shy.” Billy snorts in derision.
“Hey, not everybody is as comfortable with himself as you are,” Dom fires back, holding Billy’s gaze. “You’re exactly who you want to be, doing exactly what you want to do. That’s pretty rare. Michael doesn’t have your confidence, so he relies on his good looks to get him through, but he’s still anxious. All the time.”
Billy focuses on the part of the argument he likes the least. “He’s not good looking.”
“Yes, he is. Some have said that he looks a bit like Richard Gere before he went grey.”
“Michael’s going grey?” Billy can’t quite hide a smirk.
“Richard’s grey,” Dom retorts. “Michael’s still tall, dark and handsome. That makes women swoon.”
Billy slumps lower in his chair. “He’s medium, dark and-”
“What?”
“A first class arse.” Suddenly, Billy looks up at Dom suspiciously. “Are you still swooning?”
Lowering his eyes, a blush spreads across Dom’s cheeks. “No. I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been cured. Thanks to you.”
Billy’s spirits rise dramatically. “My pleasure, believe me.”
When Dom smiles at him, Billy feels himself falling back into lust. Oh no. A firm mental tug pulls him back to the present.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Billy says, shaking his head. No more Dom. They’ll work together at the station where it’s nearly impossible to shag - especially not on Dom’s desk - and he definitely needs to find a new place to live. He’ll take Dom to dinner tonight, let him down easy and then move to a motel. Good plan. He suppresses a sigh of relief at being back in control and returns to the problem of the station. “Remind me. Who’s on before me?”
“David, the Australian you met in the lobby.”
Michael’s companion in the break room. “I think I just met him again. Calm sort of a bloke.”
Dom nods. “Exactly. That’s what I keep telling him, but he insists on the ‘big and loud’ persona when he's on the air. Which is not your problem. In fact, I don’t see that you’ve got any problems.” He beams to Billy with the Positive Career Talk smile.
“I’m taking over for a paranoid gun-nut, and you think I have no problems?”
“Of course not. After Karl, anybody is a step up. And we’ve been at the bottom of the ratings for so long, all you can do is go up. Just remember, we’re a light rock and easy-listening station, and you can’t go wrong.”
“Well, that’s our first problem. I’m not an easy-listening kind of bloke.”
The exasperation in Dom’s expression is clear. “You must’ve known we weren’t hard rock or heavy metal when you signed on.”
Billy shakes his head. “Ian told me me I could play what ever I wanted.”
”Which is?”
“Everything.” Billy leans back and tries to sound as if he knows what he’s doing. “I like it all. The way I figure it, I’ll talk to people and they can call in and talk back and in between I play music I like.”
Dom shrugs. “Well, Ian is a lot of things, but a liar he isn’t. If he said you could do that here, you can do that here. You better go look at our library. I don’t know how much of a variety we have or what you’d be looking for.”
“Well, I’ll just have to give Ian a shopping list.” Sneering at the handbook on Dom’s desk, Billy shoves it further away. “I don’t need this. As long as I don’t do anything to give the FCC a heart attack, I’ll be okay.”
“All right. Now, what do you need to get your show started?” Dom asks.
“Nothing.” Billy leans back and opens his hands in a gesture of embracing the world, back in control again. “I can do it all.”
“Great.” Rising from the desk, Dom turns and pulls the wicker basket on his desk closer to him. “There’s just one other little thing we have to do tonight.” Reaching under the blanket, he pulls out a doll-sized baby bottle. “Samson needs to be fed every hour. We’re going to cover this until two o’clock. Sean will do the rest. I’ve already called him and he’s fine with it.”
“Samson?” Billy repeats, totally confused.
“The station puppy.” Dom pulls back the blanket and Billy rises to his feet to look over the edge.
The tiny dark shape inside looks like an undersize chocolate Twinkie. “That’s a puppy?”
“Well, he’s small right now, but he’s going to get a lot bigger.” Dom attempts to nudge the bottle into the puppy’s mouth, but he makes no movement to take it.
Another one of Dom’s lost causes. First Michael, then Billy’s show, and now this puppy. Billy squints at the tiny scrap of protoplasm Dom insists is a dog. “Are you sure it’s not dead?”
He takes a step back when Dom’s blazing eyes meet his. “This puppy is not going to die.”
“All right,” Billy replies. He’s not going to mention the experience he’s had with animals while helping out on his uncle’s farm during summer vacations, and how all of it tells him that Samson is doomed. He’s not going to fight Dom on this. “Where’s his mother?”
“He’s the runt. Things didn’t work out between them,” Dom explains while tipping the bottle so the formula runs into the puppy’s mouth without his suckling. “See?” he says triumphantly. “He’s going to be just fine.”
Sitting back down, Billy watches Dom work over the puppy, tickling his tiny throat to get him to swallow. Well, if anyone can save an embryo dog, Dom can. He’s only known Dom twenty-four hours, but he already has a healthy respect for the Englishman’s determination.
“We may have to do this every half hour,” Dom tells him. “He’s not getting enough this way. He’s got to learn to suck.”
So now he’s a dog nurse, too. Well, he likes dogs. And if this is what Dom wants... “All right.”
Dom covers the basket again. “He’s going to make it. I know he is.”
At least when the dog dies, Billy will be there to comfort Dom.
Platonically.
Billy spends the next two hours checking out the tape library and meeting with Andy, the night engineer. Andy is an odd bloke, and is not a ball of fire when it comes to engineering, but he’s something that Billy finds far more useful: a talker. After thirty minutes with Andy, Billy knows more about the station than Ian probably does. And the one indisputable fact he gleans, is that Dom is universally admired at the station. Michael, on the other hand, is not.
“Dom is good people,” Andy tells him. “He gets things done without making a big deal of it. Michael is just a . . .”
“Egotistical fuckwit?”
“That would cover it,” Andy agrees with a chuckle.
Cheered by the knowledge that not everyone at WCRB is certifiable, Billy goes back out into the city to find something to talk about for his first night on the air. Nothing too controversial, he vows. No waves.
No problem.
Dom is standing in the lobby with his hands on his hips when Billy walks in an hour before his show.
“Ian was looking for you earlier. You were supposed to meet him a five o’clock. Michael apologizes for whatever he said. Ian says you are never to strike another employee here again. And don’t play liberal garbage on the air. Where have you been?”
Billy grins as he takes in Dom’s rumpled appearance, hair mussed and long-sleeved shirt discarded leaving the t-shirt beneath. Dom’s eyes are full of fire and challenge, and his glasses have slipped down the bridge of his nose, as usual. The urge to push them up is strong, but Billy manages to resist. They’re not that close. They’re not going to be that close.
“I missed you, too,” Billy replies. “And I didn’t hit Michael. He fell over all by himself. What do you know about the city building on main street?”
Turning on his heel, Dom strides down the hall to his office, Billy trailing behind, taking the opportunity to admire the swing of Dom’s hips in his trousers.
“It’s one of the oldest buildings in the city,” Dom replies over his shoulder. “The marble is Italian. It’s a popular place for intimate weddings. The mayor wants to build a new one. That’s about it. What do you want me to find out about it?”
“Nothing.” Rubbing a hand over the back of his head and mussing up his hair, Billy follows Dom into his office. “The tape library isn’t too bad. I can fake it for a while.”
“Good.” Shifting from one foot to the other, Dom exhales gustily. “Shut the door and sit down.”
“Why?” The wariness in Billy’s tone is clear as he closes the door.
“I just need to talk to you for a minute,” Dom replies and then swallows nervously. “This is about us. I’ve been thinking all afternoon...”
Billy flinches internally as he sinks down and leans back in the chair. Bugger. He should’ve said something earlier, before Dom started making plans for their future. “Listen, before you say anything, I think you’re a terrific bloke, but I’m not ready for a-”
“Great,” Dom interrupts, sitting down across from Billy. “Don’t think for a minute that I didn’t enjoy last night. I did. A lot. I just don’t think it should happen again.” Beaming, Dom looks up at Billy. “I’m glad you feel the same way.”
“Well...” Billy stops, not knowing what to say.
“Not that we can’t still be friends,” Dom continues. “And even roommates. I talked to Orli while you in the shower this morning, and if you’d like to stay with us on the couch for the time you’ll be here, it’s all right.”
“Oh, well...” Billy nods slowly, his head wobbling slightly as tries to gather his thoughts. “Uh, sure. Good.”
“Great.” Rising to his feet, Dom scoops up some papers from his desk, clearly eager to get back to work. “I’ll ring Orli and tell him before the show starts.”
“Good.” Billy stands up. “Well, I’m glad that’s settled. I, uh, I think I’ll go watch David for a while.”
Dom waves at Billy as he leaves, then turns his attention the pile of papers in his other hand and the filing cabinet. Efficient at all times, that’s Dom.
It’s very irritating.
Why don’t you feel better about this? Billy wonders as he heads for the broadcast booth. This is what he wants. Dom has even taken care of it for him. Just the way he’s taken care of almost everything since the moment they met. Billy shakes his head, realizing that he’d wanted to be the one to break things off. Oh, well. Dom’s loss.
Billy walks off down the hall, wondering why he feels so empty if it’s Dom’s loss.
Inside the office, behind the safety of a closed door, Dom tosses the papers down on the desk beside Samson’s basket, and sits back. He’s glad. Pleased. Relieved. Something like that. At last, he’s made a mature, adult decision about a relationship, and now he can concentrate on the important stuff, like making Billy’s show a hit.
Oh, is he glad.
Really.
Looking through the window into the broadcast booth, Billy watches David speak animatedly into the microphone, hands moving up and down the console almost frantically. Loud and proud David.
Great. First he gets kicked out of Dom’s bed and now he’s following a bloke who thinks the louder the better.
When David stops talking and leans back in his chair, Billy taps lightly on the glass, and David motions him in with a smile.
"Nice job on Michael in the break room," David says with a grin as Billy enters the booth. "Look Ma, no hands."
It's impossible not to grin back, Billy discovers, as David simply radiates goodwill. "Thanks, but I should've known better."
"Why? Michael didn't." Turning his attention to the console in front of him, David gestures at the brand new piece of equipment. "Anything you need to know about here?"
"Why don't you give me a fast refresher," Billy suggests lightly, pretending he doesn't notice the strange look David gives him at his response.
Choosing not to ask any questions, David explains the how the noise level on the CD players are controlled by the red plastic sliding tabs on the console. Billy does just fine until David tells him that if more than one slide is up at the same time, then they'll all be heard, and then he begins to discuss the three thousand different ways the slides can be combined for effect.
"Great," Billy says when David is finished and he's completely lost. "I think I'll just stick with one at a time."
David shrugs. "Whatever."
"Do you mind if I sit in here and watch the rest of your show?" Billy asks, hoping that he'll learn by watching whatever he hasn't by listening.
"Sure. Anytime," David replies before returning to the microphone to announce that his listeners have just heard a 'Loud n' Proud' triple play.
That's when Billy discovers that the volume is actually worse inside the booth than it is on air.
At nine fifty-eight, Dom takes his seat at the production console and watches through the window as Billy leans against the wall and David hunches over the microphone. Billy looks relaxed against the white acoustic tile, and Dom follows the lines of Billy's arms with his eyes, his gaze coming to rest on Billy's hands. Smaller hands than he's used to, but agile and magical, especially Billy's fingers. Lovely hands, indeed.
Giving his head a shake, Dom wrenches his thoughts back to the show that's about to begin. Fingers don't count in radio. Just in bed. And from now on, they're just in radio, not in bed. Tonight is the first night in Dom's new career. If he's going to make Billy a star - and he is - tonight is the night to study Billy, to see how he works. Then Dom'll know how to shape the show, how to publicize it, how to make Billy the flavor of the month. Dom feels his heart beat faster and he grins at himself. I'll be back on top in no time. Turning his attention back to the booth, Dom keeps his mind firmly off Billy's body and strictly on his potential. For radio.
David is just wrapping thing up for his show. "And that's it for tonight for you wild and crazy fans out there. Next up is the new bloke on the block, Wild Bill Boyd!"
When David lowers the microphone slide down and the music slide up, Dom hears the 'Monster Mash' come up on the speakers.
Wild Bill? Poor Billy. Well, I can fix that. I can fix everything as long as I keep my concentration. Dom's going to make Billy a star if it kills them both.
Billy and David talk for a few minutes while the song plays out, and then the Australian comes out to join Dom. "The news is punched up and ready," David says, then frowns slightly. "I thought Ian said Billy had a lot of experience."
"That's what Ian told me," Dom replies, keeping an eye on the phone lines in front of him while he talks. The chances of anyone calling in are slim, but he's prepared to nurture anyone who does, even on the first night. "He spent a couple of years at a station north of here, about five hours drive."
"He sure doesn't act like it," David comments, then shrugs. "Oh well. It's not like it's brain surgery. If I can do it, anyone can."
"Stop that," Dom fires back as he looks up at David, his exasperation clear. "You're very good. You'd be even better if you turned the volume down a little, but you're still good. And no more Wild Bill."
"How does he want to be intro-ed?"
"Well, he doesn't want to be called William or Will, so anything along those lines are out." Dom sits back, brow furrowing in thought. They need a good title. A catch phrase. "Just Billy is too bland. Billy Late Night?"
David shakes his head. "Sounds like Letterman."
"Okay, uh, Billy At Night?"
David shakes his head again. "Boring."
"Billy Overnight? Billy Midnight? Billy All Night?"
"That last one is good," David says. "Kind of sexy. He's got the voice for it."
Dom tries not to look too hopeful. "You think he's going to be good?"
"Hard to tell." Shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, David clears his throat. "Listen Dom, I, uh, I was wondering if..."
When he trails off, Dom is left with the nearly unheard-of occurrence of a speechless David.
"Yes?" Dom prompts gently with a nod, trying to be encouraging without being blatantly obvious.
David swallows. "I know you don't have time to work on my show, but if you could give me a few tips, well, I'd really-"
"Turn down the volume," Dom says firmly. "You're an intelligent, funny bloke who has lots of knowledge to share. So do it."
"I've always been loud. I don't know anything else."
When Dom realizes that David is completely serious, he sighs. "Let me think about it, and I'll get back to you tomorrow. Okay?"
David grins, his whole face lighting up. "Thanks, Dom. That's great." Looking over his shoulder at Billy, who is surveying his new domain with what looks like equal parts apprehension and terror, David adds, "I'd stay on top of him tonight, if I were you. He looks like he's going to blow."
"Not Billy," Dom says loyally, but he's not reassured by Billy's expression. "He'll be okay once he starts talking."
"That's usually when I screw up," David adds.
When the news is over, they both watch as Billy leans over the console, pushing the microphone slide up and the CD slide down. He then speaks into the microphone, his Scottish lilt filling the production booth for the first time.
"This is Billy Boyd on WCRB, and I'm not very wild. I just play good music and talk to people. I arrived yesterday, and I have to say it's beautiful place you've got here, but I've got a few questions about your new city building."
Dom looks at David, hoping for some additional information, but instead sees confusion reflected in the Australian's eyes.
"But mostly I just like it here," Billy continues. "This is a great place to do a wee bit of late-night talking and and play some late-night rock and roll. This one is for my new hometown."
A moment later, Letters to Cleo comes on with 'I Want You to Want Me,' and Dom grins.
Now if Billy gives Dom some scope, he can move him from fun to fantastic. Billy has a great voice and a terrific personality, and wonderful hands-
Scratch that last part.
Determined, Dom pulls his attention back to the show. Billy's really good. For some moral support, David listens for a while and then says good night, giving Billy a thumbs-up sign through the booth window as he leaves. Billy nods in response and shifts his gaze to Dom.
"You're doing great," Dom tells him, doing his best cheerleader imitation through the production microphone. It's like being back with Michael, except this time Dom's telling the truth. "Your voice is terrific. No wonder you were a hit at your last station."
Saying nothing, Billy shrugs his shoulders. The song comes to an end, and he works the slides again, leaning in closer to the microphone. "Like I said before, I'm not that wild, but I don't mind having a few laughs now and then, for all the right reasons. One of those reasons seems to me to be this new city building His Honor the Mayor wants built."
Dom freezes at the console. No. Not the mayor. Ian plays poker with him every Thursday. This is not the way to build an audience, this is the way to build an enemy. An enemy they don't need, especially if it's the boss. Dom attempts to shake his head at Billy through the window, but Billy is oblivious, concentrating on the microphone.
"Now, I'm new in town," Billy continues, "so maybe you can call in and tell me why I'm wrong, but I was in your old city building today, and it's a beautiful place. Marble floors, frosted glass, lots of wood paneling, and it's the real wood paneling, not that splintery stuff you can buy cheap at the lumberyard. This is a building that was made with good materials, fine workmanship, and above all, pride. It's the kind of building that might inspire a politician who works there to take the service part of being a public servant seriously. Now, if you laughed at that, my friend, you're a cynic. Shame on you."
Clasping his hands in front of him, Dom sends up a fervent prayer. Don't say anything dumb, Billy. Please.
"So where's the joke? Well, have you seen the model for the new city building? If not, I recommend that you make a trip to the planning office in the old building downtown, and have yourself a laugh. It looks like a parking garage with windows, which might be pretty appropriate for the politicians around here - a place to park and watch the world go by. Of course, like I said, I'm new in town, so I don't really know much about your politicians. Except that if they prefer this new concrete bunker to their old marble palace, they have lousy taste in architecture.
"If you think the old city building deserves another hundred years, call in and let the city know why. And if you think the new plan is better, well, call in and tell me I'm wrong. In the meantime, this one's for the city building. Hang in there, old lady."
When Aretha Franklin's 'Rescue Me' begins playing, Dom puts his head in his hands and allows himself a moment of panic. Then reality sets in. Ian never listens to the show, and Dom's pretty sure the mayor doesn't, either. The station played opera for the past week to fill the airtime, and before that was Karl and the aliens. Billy probably didn't have more than four people listening to him tonight, and they're going to be angry that he's not discussing the Martian question. There's nothing to worry about.
Dom's almost convinced himself that things are fine, and then the phone rings.
"WCRB, this is the Billy Boyd show," Dom says, bracing himself for the worst.
The voice on the other end of the line is that of an older man, raspy and loud. "Yeah, let me talk to that disc jockey fellow."
"Certainly, sir. Can I tell him what you'd like to say?"
"No, damn it, I'm going to do that."
"Uh, right. Sure." Dom hesitates, knowing he really should find out what the caller wants before turning him over to Billy. On the other hand, the man obviously isn't going to tell Dom anything, and it's a bad idea to alienate any callers. After all, this might be the only one Billy gets. It's a chance for Dom to see how Billy handles himself with callers. "Could I have your name, please?"
"Bernard Hill."
"You've got a caller," Dom tells Billy over the production microphone. "A Mr. Bernard Hill."
When Billy nods, Dom transfers the call to the booth. A moment later, Samson whimpers at Dom's feet, and he ducks under the desk to see what's wrong. The puppy actually seems hungry, so Dom hurries to drip more formula into his tiny mouth, giving all his attention to the animal until Billy comes back on the air after the song finishes.
"I've been talking to Bernard from up north of the city limits. He tells me he was around when part of the building was constructed. Right, Bernard?"
"Like I was telling you, we put that back wing up on my first construction job. I wasn't more than seventeen."
"Well, Bernard, you did a great job."
"Hell, yes."
"Don't say hell, Bernard. The FCC doesn't like it."
"My wife doesn't either. The hell with her."
"But about the city building, Bernard," Billy says, steering the conversation back to the topic of discussion.
"Well, you're right about one thing. That building was built to last. Any dang fool can see that."
"Even me," Billy interjects.
"Even you. Even that other dang fool Brad Dourif."
"Mayor Dourif seems pretty sold on the new building."
"Of course he does," Bernard retorts. "His son is going to get the contract."
Billy says "What?" and Dom raises his head so fast he smacks it on the underside of the producer's desk.
"Check into it, boy. The contract will say Somebody or Other Construction, but you follow the trail back and you'll find Jonathan Dourif's name on it."
Oh, no. Not this. Dom rubs the back of his head and tries to think fast.
"I think that's slander, Bernard."
"Not if it's true," Bernard retorts. "I may be getting older, but I'm not stupid."
"That's for sure," Billy agrees. "Well Bernard, you've certainly made my first night on the job one to remember. And possibly my last night on the job, too. Thanks for calling, and ring me up to tell me I'm a fool again sometime. You remind me a bit of my Da. I'm glad you were listening in."
"I wasn't," Bernard admits. "My teen-aged grandson listens to that Loud and Proud fellow and we kinda fell into your show."
“Well, drop in anytime."
"Will do, son. Good luck on saving that building."
"Thanks. I'm going to need all the help I can get." There's a click on the line, and Bernard is gone. "Of course, I've already had more luck than any new bloke in town deserves. My first caller is quite a character, and the first bloke I met in town yesterday is the type who leaves an impression, even when he says goodbye, which he did just this afternoon. Fortunately, I've had a fair bit of experience with rejection. Anyway, this is for that bloke who said I insulted him at the bar yesterday. Trust me, I meant it in the nicest possible way."
Dom shakes his head when he hears Fine Young Cannibals slide into 'She’s Drives Me Crazy.'
"Very funny, Billy," Dom says into the production microphone. "About the city building-"
"I didn't mean to, believe me," Billy interjects. "I thought it would be a nice, friendly kind of topic."
"Ian's a backer of Brad Dourif."
Billy snorts in derision. "He would be. He's just like my uncle."
"Your uncle back mayors?"
"My uncle buys mayors." Billy turns away from the window on his swivel chair and begins reloading the CD stack for the next round of music. "Oh well. At least nobody's listening."
Just me. Dom watches Billy push the slides for the next thirty minutes, playing music and talking to three callers who want to put in their two cents about the city building. Things are going well. In fact, four callers in the first forty-five minutes of a new show is phenomenal.
They're safe.
But safe makes for lousy radio.
Dom can fix that.
Of course, they don't want to make enemies, but since nobody seems too upset about the mayor's son, that isn't a problem. And Billy's great with callers, absolutely brilliant, actually. More people should know that. Of course, Billy doesn't want to be famous, but this is a civic issue, and Dom has a civic duty.
And he wants the show to be a hit.
"I'm scum," Dom tells Samson, who is fast asleep in his basket. "Career-obsessed, pathetic scum." Then he picks up the phone, gets an outside line, and dials the mayor's phone number.
Billy's feeling pretty good at the moment. He liked Bernard and the three people who called in after him, the console is brand new and a piece of cake to run, and it doesn't really matter if he's a success or not at this hour of the night. Then there’s the fact that it’s actually fun. Once again, his life is under control. He’ll have all his days to track down that damn letter, figure out who wrote it, and then he can play radio at night until he finishes the job and leaves in November.
Life doesn’t get much better.
Then Dom’s voice comes through his headphones. “Caller on line two.”
“Who’s this one?”
“The mayor.”
Billy swings around to stare at Dom through the window, but he just shrugs, smiles and pushes the button to transfer the call to Billy.
“Who the hell is this?”
“Uh, Billy Boyd,” he answers, shooting an agonizing glance at the digital readout on the console. Fifteen seconds until the last song is over.
“Well, what the hell is going on down there? Where’s Ian? What is this garbage?”
He sounds like an overbearing, handshaking politician. Billy has met a lot of them growing up and didn’t like them. Still, it’s not his job to make waves. “We’ve been talking about the city building, sir.”
“Well, stop it. It’s none of your damn business.”
Billy takes a deep breath. “Well, it’s the taxpayers business, since they’re going to be paying for it.”
“Screw the taxpayers. You shut up about that building or I’ll have your job. I can do it, too, don’t think I can’t. Ian’s a good friend of mine. You just shut up, boy.”
Five seconds. Billy has no doubt that he’s going to regret this, but laying low has been a lost cause as soon as the mayor started yelling. “We’re going to be on the air now, mayor, so whatever you say is broadcast. You might want to ease up on the ‘screw the taxpayers’ bit since most of them are voters, too.”
“I don’t want-”
“And welcome back,” Billy says into the microphone. “We’ve got a real treat tonight. Mayor Brad Dourif has called in to talk about the city building. You’re on, Mayor.”
“I’m what?”
“You’re on the air.”
“Oh. Well-”
"Now, do you want to explain again how you feel about the taxpayers and the city building?"
Through the window, Billy watches Dom put his head down on the producer's console. Brad must have been right about Ian. Oh well. Win some, lose some. Shrugging, Billy goes back to listening to the mayor tie himself into knots. Public speaking is evidently not what had gotten him elected into office. His sentences seem to lack verbs, which is par for any politician. All nouns, no action.
When the mayor winds down, buried under his compound subjects, Billy steps in. "So what exactly is the rationale behind the new city building, Mayor? I understand the new building has less space than the old one."
That statement sets Brad off again, babbling about heating bills, big windows, all that marble, and the stairs. Brad doesn't seen seem to have a grasp as to why the last three things are a problem, he just knows that they are factors.
"Anything you want to say about your son, the contractor?" Billy asks when the mayor sputters to a close.
"Fine businessman. Pillar of the community. I'm proud to call him family."
Brad meanders on, yet again, while Billy waits for a verb. "Does he have the contract for the city building?"
"Of course not. I don't know. I don't award contracts. The stalwart citizens on the building committee do that. Pillars of the community.”
Shaking his head, Billy gives up. "Well, thanks for calling, Mayor. I'm sure the town is reassured now."
"Proud to do my duty."
Billy pushes the button to start the CD player and shoves the slide up until music fills his headphones. Unfortunately, or perhaps poetically, the song is Paul Simon's 'Still Crazy After All These Years.'
He's screwed, as usual. Billy thinks about it for a moment, and then starts to laugh.
Stunned, Dom leans back in the producer's chair, not sure who he is in the most trouble with - the mayor, Ian or Billy. He thought maybe talking to the mayor would boost Billy's credentials. The mayor could give his side of the situation, and Billy could discuss it with him. Serious talk radio. Maybe a nice mention of it in The Tribune tomorrow since the mayor pretty much owns the paper.
Dom didn't count on Billy being a hell-raiser. Asking about the mayor's son. Pissing off the mayor. Bloody hell.
"You still there, Boyd?"
Startled at the sound, Dom leans forward and adjusts his headphones. "Uh, no he's not Mayor Dourif. This is Dominic Monaghan, the prod-"
"Well, you're fired. And so is he."
Then all Dom hears is dial tone.
Slumping in his chair, Dom attempts to figure out the probable outcome of the mess he's created. Ian won't fire him, Dom's pretty sure. Ian's not dumb, and if he is, Patty certainly isn't.
Billy could be vulnerable, though. And it's Dom's fault.
All right, he’ll just go in first thing in the morning and tell Ian he called the mayor. It’s not Billy’s fault.
Then the phone rings, and Dom gets back to work.
By one o’clock in the morning, Billy has talked to eleven callers about the city building, all of them telling Billy that he’s right and one asking if the mayor was drunk.
“No, I think he always talks like that,” was Billy’s response, and the caller could only wonder why anyone would vote for Mayor Dourif. There were a few nonpolitical calls: one male caller wanted to know what Billy said to the bloke in the bar, and three female callers offered to show Billy the city and insult them all he wants.
“Get me out of this,” Billy requests from the booth, just shy of begging, and Dom shuts down the lines for the night.
“Go home,” Billy tells Dom through the microphone. “Andy’s here if I need anything technical. I’m just going to play music from now on. I don’t ever want to hear about the city building again.”
Dom has been working since four o’clock in the afternoon, Billy’s show is off to a better than great start, and guilt is making him groggy. He’s done his job and then some. “Thanks,” Dom replies. “I’m going to take you up on that.”
Handing Samson over to Billy, Dom tells him how to feed the puppy and then watches while the Scotsman administers the bottle to the rhythm of Eric Clapton. Even in Billy’s smaller than average hand, Samson looks tiny, and Dom forgets his career entirely as he watches Billy try to drip formula into the puppy’s mouth. Sam tries to drink a little and then gives up, but Billy keeps on coaxing, ginger hair shining in the booth light as he bends over the little body, massaging Sam’s tummy with his thumb. “C’mon, Sam,” he urges softly, and Dom shuts his eyes, praying that the puppy will make it.
He really doesn’t need any more trauma. He’s due for some success here, and Sam might as well share it. “He’s going to make it.” Dom says out loud, causing Billy to look up at him.
“We’ll give it our best shot. Go on. You’re knackered.”
Dom nods, and leaves the booth.
Billy sounds even better at home when Dom’s in bed, wrapped up in his coverlet. His voice is sexy and soothing, and he plays a lot of different music, including a triple play of David Bowie, Radiohead and The Beatles, always leading smoothly from one song to the next as though the music is part of what Billy’s saying.
Dom’s almost disappointed when Billy wraps up the show at two o’clock.
“Well, that’s it for me tonight,” Billy says. “Sean Astin’s coming up next with some background on crystals and healing and your sun sign’s lucky numbers for tomorrow. He tells me that he’s going to be playing some whale songs a little later. For those of you who haven’t heard whale songs, that probably sounds like a joke, but keep an open mind and you’ll hear music that is truly unearthly. To get you over to Sean, here’s Judy Collins doing her duet with a whale in ‘Farewell to Tarwathie.’ Listen closely out there, this is the music of the deep.”
As promised, ‘Hunting the Whale’ begins, and Dom closes his eyes to listen. The song is so lovely that the last notes seem to hang in the air next to him.
The next thing he hears is Sean, saying, “This is Sean Astin taking you into the hours while the city sleeps. If you didn’t hear Billy Boyd’s show just before this, you missed what he said about our beautiful city building. There are so many old voices echoing through those halls, and tearing it down would be like ripping those voices apart. Go visit the old building tomorrow, feel the power of it, and then go to the mayor and tell him that tearing down that structure is destroying the spirit of public service in our fair city. And now, before I begin tonight’s discussion on the healing power of the crystal, let’s listen to a recording of some North Atlantic whales. This one’s for you, Billy.”
Good for Billy, Dom thinks to himself. He’s got Sean on his side. There’s comfort in that realization, and Dom welcomes it. Sean is a little different, but his people instincts are excellent. If he likes Billy, than Billy is good people. Period.
Turning off the lamp on the night stand, Dom listens to the whale sounds in the dark, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.
Dom hasn’t been asleep more than half an hour when Billy nudges him in the back.
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Date: 2010-06-23 03:29 am (UTC)I love the image of Billy feeding the wee pup.
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Date: 2010-06-23 04:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-23 03:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-23 04:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-23 03:59 am (UTC)Part 5? :D
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Date: 2010-06-23 04:38 am (UTC)I'm working on Chapter 5, but it's a long way from completion, I'm sad to report.
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Date: 2010-06-23 02:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-24 04:03 am (UTC)BTW, I adore that icon of Billy. *sigh*
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Date: 2010-06-24 05:22 am (UTC)Why, thank you! I've never been complimented on this Billy before. :)
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Date: 2010-06-27 07:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-27 08:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-23 06:00 am (UTC)Two lines that really stuck out:
...the first bloke I met in town yesterday is the type who leaves an impression, even when he says goodbye, which he did just this afternoon.
This made my heart ache! They're both so in denial! *snogs*
His sentences seemed to lack verbs, which is par for any politician. All nouns, no action.
HA! Classic! And he's such an asswipe too. You do a great job of writing bad guys that I just loathe. Woot! I can't wait to see more.
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Date: 2010-06-23 06:45 am (UTC)Writing bad guys is fun, as long as they're not *too* evil, because then they often end up hurting the boys. That part? Not fun.
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Date: 2010-06-23 10:30 pm (UTC)Looking forward to the next chapter, when it comes along.
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Date: 2010-06-24 04:01 am (UTC)Thank you so much.
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Date: 2010-06-26 04:30 am (UTC)Though Billy's/ Ian's motives are making me feel in easy... I'm worried about what might come out... I guess I'll just have to wait. ; )
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Date: 2010-06-27 07:18 am (UTC)I know there are a lot of questions right now, but more details are coming up soon. I promise. I'm working on Chapter 5, when the Muse cooperates and life doesn't get in the way.
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Date: 2010-06-27 06:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-28 11:39 pm (UTC)It's been a labor of love.
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Date: 2010-11-15 05:58 pm (UTC)I love the care and consideration you take with the characters and how realistic the dialogue is. I would love to read more but I understand these things take time so good luck to you in getting more out. You're truly gifted :)
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Date: 2010-11-17 05:35 am (UTC)The Muse hasn't been cooperative of late, but I keep trying...
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Date: 2011-09-18 01:09 am (UTC)But I know how terrible a muse can be. Mine's disappeared for a while now.
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Date: 2011-09-19 05:49 am (UTC)Muse seems to have moved on to a new fandom.
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Date: 2011-09-19 02:23 pm (UTC)Anyway, maybe my muse will be more workfriendly.^^
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Date: 2011-09-26 01:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-26 07:58 am (UTC)But at least she's being nice to me about Monaboyd.^^ The ideas are certainly flowing.^^
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Date: 2011-10-15 10:01 pm (UTC)