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Different Frequencies
Different Frequencies
Different Frequencies
Ebook80 pages1 hour

Different Frequencies

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About this ebook

Margo Sixx loves radio. As a kid, she listened to her father, a legendary local radio host, play soft rock hits until way past her bedtime. After his death, she vows to protect the station at all costs from profit-hungry media scions like Jamie, who wants to "globalize local radio" ... whatever that means.

But when Margo finds out that Jamie might become her new boss, she's even more determined to convince him the station doesn't need to change. What she doesn't realize is that he also has an agenda of his own. Will they be able to find a way through the signal noise to hear their true feelings for each other?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 16, 2020
ISBN9781094411002
Author

Lydia Westing

Lydia Westing is usually a comedy and pop-culture writer for websites like Reductress, Bunny Ears, Cracked, and The Modern Rogue. She has a small dog and a large husband, and they all live together in Nashville, Tennessee. She played roller derby for several different teams on and off for over five years. She’s much better at writing than she ever was at roller derby.

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  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
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    Very good surprising not erotica just kind of funny. As would be expected from a nashvillian

Book preview

Different Frequencies - Lydia Westing

Chapter 1: The Countess Makes A Proposition

One time in college, a professor told Margo that radio is the most successful advertising medium because of the theater of the mind. When an announcer says your furniture will be sparkling clean with Mable’s Table Wash, you don’t see someone else’s furniture sparkling clean in your mind. You see your furniture, in your home. It’s a superpower, being able to put images in people’s heads. Sure, you can use it to sell things, but you can also use it to make people feel less lonely. That’s what Margo cared about.

When she was a kid, she used to sit in her bedroom under Beauty and the Beast sheets listening to her dad play soft rock hits well past her bedtime. This was before everything was automated, so her dad, the legendary Bobby Sixx, was actually in the studio just a few miles from her childhood home, playing love songs for strangers. Fred has a message for Caroline; are you listening, Caroline? He seems like a nice guy. And hey, we’ve all had little Roman candle mishaps! He’ll buy you a new mailbox. What do you say? Here’s Fred, by way of Jim Glaser, asking you, Caroline: ‘Please Take Me Back,’ on WYMM Millburg.

Every once in a while, he’d add at the end, To my sweet baby girl: If you’re still listening, it’s time for all little girls named Margo to go to bed. And Margo would reluctantly switch off her portable radio and slide it back under her pillow. She didn’t care for the music that much, but she could listen to her dad talk all night.

She’d recorded her first radio spot when she was seven, for a locally owned Pizza Hut franchise. Her one line was, Daddy, can we go to Pizza Hut? If I bring my report card, I can get a free Personal Pan Pizza! When she stayed up to listen to WYMM after that, she wasn’t just listening for her dad; she was listening for herself. Mommy, I’m on the radio! she would yell every time the commercial came on. It was cute the first few times, but the ad ran for five months.

The Pizza Hut closed in 2014, and the building was converted into a Unitarian Church that Margo’s dad always referred to as the temple of Pizza Hut because the outside of the building was pretty much unchanged, and every once in a while out-of-towners would still come by and try to order breadsticks from Jesus. Margo still had warm feelings when she rode by it on her bicycle.

Bicycling had been her preferred method of transportation ever since the car accident that took her father from her when she was twenty-two. She was in charge of WYMM now; it was her voice that begged forgiveness on behalf of grieving boyfriends. It was what she’d always wanted to do. She just wished her dad could be here to see it.

After her dad had died, Margo moved back in with her mom for a while, but when her mother started dating, Margo moved right back out. The last thing she’d wanted was to cramp her mother’s style. A station manager’s salary wasn’t fantastic, but she’d had enough in savings for a down payment on a two-bedroom cottage on the edge of town, and it had a small backyard big enough for her dog PigPig to roll around. It was an easy bike ride to work, the grocery store, wherever she needed to be.

She was content with her life. The only shakeups occurred when the Countess came to town.

Margo had known the Countess since she was born. There was a picture of her father holding her as the Countess peered at baby Margo in his arms with a look that said, How very nice, but no thank you, I will not touch it.

Although Margo was the station manager of WYMM, she wasn’t her own boss by any means. There were two other channels in her cluster: WAYN, talk radio, and WCAT, a rock station. No station was solitary anymore. If you wanted to run a successful local radio group you had to give advertisers multiple audiences to sell products too.

So, one used-car lot could buy advertising space with the station cluster and their ads could be used to sell minivans to working moms that listened to WYMM, first cars to teenagers on WCAT, and hearses to the old white men who still listen to talk radio.

The three-channel group was overseen by the general manager, Godfrey Mackintosh, also known as Mack, a well-meaning but timid man whose most defining characteristic was his flaming red hair, which was now disappearing with age. He also had roughly a hundred children who were always popping up in the strangest places at the station.

Above Mack was the Countess, the station owner. Every radio station owner was either very rich, very old, or very eccentric, but the Countess was the trifecta. Her parents had started WYMM, run the place very competently, expanded to add the other two channels, and invested wisely in a variety of other businesses.

The Countess wasn’t as involved in her other ventures as she was with the Valley River Radio group. Since it had been her parents’ first operation, it was sentimental to her. This meant that when she blew into town twice a year to check on her investment, the radio station was her home, literally: She’d had a small apartment added to the rear of the building during the seventies.

The apartment was legendary among radio staff. It was locked whenever the Countess wasn’t around, but more than one overnight DJ working alone in the building had contemplated

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