Forecast by Jane Tara Page B

Rowie to follow her. “This is the control room. The director will be in here, not on the floor with you. I’ll also be here to keep an eye on how you’re doing, along with some audio technicians and graphic operators.”
    Rowie noticed an attractive woman sitting on a computer in the corner. She had very short blonde hair, and a tall, lean body. Judging by the way she glared at Jess, the two women had issues.
    “Rowie, this is Michelle. She’s one of our meteorologists.”
    Rowie offered her hand and Michelle grudgingly shook it.
    “You’re Drew’s replacement?”
    “I hope so. As long as I don’t mess up this test.”
    “Can’t you predict if you will?” Michelle smirked before stalking out.
    Jess shrugged her off. “Ignore her. Like most of the female species here, she’s having Drew Henderson withdrawals. Come on, let’s get you trained.”
    Jess led Rowie into the studio. It was smaller than it appeared on television. She noticed the news desk.
    “Bill and Tina, the anchors, will be there,” Jess explained. “They’ll introduce you and the three of you will chat for fifteen seconds. Not a millisecond more. The banter will appear spontaneous, but it will be scripted.”
    Rowie was horrified to hear that. She’d always loved getting her news from Bill Anderson and Tina Eanis. They were an American institution. “Is all their banter scripted?”
    “Most of it. Bill and Tina have the combined IQ of a house brick. We don’t need them commenting on world events while they’re on air.”
    “What are they like?” asked Rowie, not willing to believe Bill and Tina were anything but consummate professionals and darn nice people.
    “Utter assholes. And they despise each other. But hey, they’re pretty, and America trusts them.” Jess pulled Rowie over to a large screen. “This is your area. You’ll be here, in front of the greenscreen. Have you ever used one of these before?”
    “Never needed one outside Second Site.”
    “I guess not,” said Jess. “Basically, you do the weather in front of this wall. It looks like you’re pointing to a map, but you’re not. The technical director will take you and superimpose you over the computer generated weather graphics. Simple really.”
    Rowie stared at Jess like she was crazy. “So what do I point to?”
    “Nothing. But if you keep your eye on this monitor in front of you, you’ll see the graphics there. Now that’s not as easy as it seems because the image is not reversed.”
    Jess jumped in front of the greenscreen and started pointing. “See when I point to New York but it comes up that I’m pointing to California? Easy.”
    A guy with coffee colored skin and a smile that made the Osmonds’ look in need of floss entered the studio and waved at Jess.
    “Hi, Taye,” she called. “Come and meet Rowie.”
    Taye was the director. He was relaxed and cheery, the kind of person who didn’t buckle easily. He drilled Rowie in her technique and got her to practice on the Chromakey.
    Remember, the viewer needs to think you’re talking to them. You’ve got to look straight into this camera.”
    Rowie’s hands were starting to shake. What had she got herself into? “That camera there? Right.”
    “And do everything backwards,” he reminded her.
    “That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Rowie joked, and then doubled over in panic. “I don’t feel very well.”
    “You don’t have to be the perfect meteorologist,” said Jess, almost kindly. “Drew Henderson has that market covered. You just need to be an amusing distraction. Do what you do outside the shop every morning and you’ll be fine.”
    “Let’s test you,” said Taye.
    Rowie watched him make his way into the tech box and noticed Mac already waiting there.
    Jess grabbed her arm and pushed her into position. “Look into the camera in front of you and read the teleprompt.” She waited for a cue from Mac and then motioned for Rowie to start.
    “Good evening I’m … ah …”
    Jess