Chapter 1

Referring to directions written on a yellow legal pad Jason navigated the unfamiliar streets. He drove past dilapidated storefronts with bars on their windows and grates on their doors. Nearly every wall was covered with layers of graffiti.

He found Lucas Street and made a turn. Halfway down the block he saw the sign for the Lucas Street AME Church. It was an unassuming structure repurposed from an abandoned supermarket.

Jason parked on the street. He stepped into the church and spotted an older Black man wearing a royal blue kaftan. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m from the radio station.”

“You’re not our regular radio man,” came the reply.

“I’m filling for Ralph,” Jason explained. “He’s on medical leave.”

“Nothing serious, I hope,” the pastor replied.

“He had a hernia repaired. We expect him to be back next month for your service broadcast. If you can show me where to set up my equipment...”

“This way, son...” The pastor led Jason through the sanctuary. He regarded a choir loft equipped with microphones, an old Hammond B3 electric organ, synthesizers, a drum set and a studio-grade audio mixing board. Behind the altar was an office. “Ralph sets up in here.”

Jason surveyed the room. “There’s an internet connection...”

“Over here. You can talk to Derrick about the hookup. He’s our music director.”

“I’ll bring in my gear, then.” Jason headed back to his car. From the trunk he removed a case and a laptop computer. These he carried into the office. He removed a power strip and plugged it into a wall receptacle. Into this he plugged a remote broadcast mixer, a four-port router and the laptop computer.

He powered up the laptop and checked the network connections. Then he took his cell phone and placed a call.

WNLX Radio came the answer.

“Jon -- it’s Jason.”

Jason -- you made it there safe and sound?

“Yeah, I found the place. I wouldn’t want to have a flat tire in this part of town.”

Too bad Ralph couldn’t wait a week for his surgery. Next week’s church remote is at Trinity.

“Nicer neighborhood than this. I’m just hoping my rims will still be here when I’m done. Okay -- I’m all booted up here -- let’s see if we can get connected.” He manipulated the keyboard on his laptop. “Looks like I’m in.”

I see you. Let’s do a bandwidth check...

Jason watched a window on his laptop. “Looks good -- we can go full broadband.” He made settings on the mixer board.

Try the board.

Jason plugged a microphone into an input. “Testing, testing...”

We’re good. About half an hour to airtime.

“I need to track down some dude named Derrick for a hookup. You ought to see the layout they have here, Jon. These folks take this stuff seriously.”

Ralph has some tales to tell. I’ll keep you up on audition ‘til airtime.

“Okay Jon. See you at the station in a couple of hours.” He cancelled the call and poked his head out of the door. He saw a younger, lanky Black man standing over the church’s mixer board.

“Hi,” he said, approaching him. “I’m Jason from WNLX Radio...”

“I’m Derrick.”

“I need to know how to hook up...”

Derrick unspooled an audio cable, leading into the office behind the altar. “Plug in with this.”

“Okay...” Jason plugged the cable into his mixer board. “Can I get a level check?”

“Sure bro.” He called toward a woman sitting at the Hammond organ sorting through sheet music. “Thelma -- a few bars.”

She played some arpeggios and snatches of tunes as Jason adjusted line levels. “That’s good.”

“You won’t need to ride the gain,” Derrick said, “I’ll keep it level on my end.”

“Okay, good,” Jason replied.

Derrick pointed to a multi-ganged switch plate on the wall. “This switch on the end -- flip it up when we go on the air. It lights a light for me and the pastor.”

“Got it.”

Jason checked his watch. He could hear the congregation filing in. The time ticked closer to airtime and he placed another call to the station. Thelma began playing a prelude on the organ.

In five ... four ... three ... two ... one... Jon counted down. And, live.

Jason flipped the switch. He put on headphones and watched the VU meters on his board.

... and cut, Jon said over Jason’s cell. He flipped down the switch on the wall.

“Good one?” Jason asked.

It should hold ‘em ‘til next month.

“Then it’ll be Raphie’s headache. See you in a bit, buddy.” He cancelled the call and began taking down his remote equipment and packing it into the case.

Derrick stepped into the office and began coiling up his audio cable. “Hey -- great service,” Jason remarked. “That’s one soloist you have.”

“Yeah -- Aja. She’s real good.”

“Asia?” Jason repeated.

“It’s A - J - A ... Aja.”

“Like the Steely Dan album.”

“Yeah -- like that.”

Jason carried his gear to his car, loaded it into the trunk and then sat behind the wheel. He turned the key. His motor turned over once and died. Oh, shit! he thought and popped his hood. Stepping out he lifted the hood and wiggled the cables on his battery.

“Not a good part of town to be broke down, is it?” Jason looked up and saw a statuesque Black woman standing on the sidewalk. He regarded her. She appeared to be in her late twenties and wore a knee-length, tight-fitting red dress with a slit halfway up her thigh and carrying a red envelope purse. Her red heels added inches to her five-foot-eight frame so she towered over him. Her raven hair was up in a twist and a small, pillbox hat sat askance on her head.

“Battery’s dead,” he remarked. “I think the headlights were on.”

“Why have ‘em on in the daylight?” she asked, her voice soft with just a hint of an urban accent.

“With this car they’re always on -- running lights they call it. They’re supposed to go off with the ignition but sometimes something sticks and they stay on. Then I have to wiggle the key to make ‘em go off. I’m going to call and see if I can get a boost.” He took out his cell and placed the call. “No answer ... I’ll try again in a bit. I’m Jason, by the way. Jason Brown.”

“I’m Aja -- Aja Morgan,” she replied.

“Aja. You’re the soloist. Derrick told me your name. You have one heck of a voice, Aja.”

“Thank you ... You were at the service?”

“I’m with WNLX Radio. I was doing the remote.”

“You’re not the regular radio guy.”

“No -- Ralph is out sick. I’m filling in for him.”

She extended her hand and he grasped it. “I am real pleased to meet you, Jason.”

“Let me try my pal again.” He placed another call and again got no answer.

“Maybe I can help you out,” she said. “My uncle Oscar lives near here. Maybe he can come and give you a boost.” She took her cell from her handbag and placed a call. “Hey, Uncle O -- it’s me. There’s the guy from the radio station here and he needs a boost. Dead battery.” She listened and then addressed Jason. “You got cables?”

“Yes I have cables.”

“Yes, he has cables. Right on the corner of Lucas by the church. Thanks Uncle O.” She slipped her cell into her bag. “I’ll stay here with you ‘til he comes. Nobody will hassle you if they see me with you.”

“Gee, thanks.” Jason leaned against his car. “Aja -- you have such a lovely voice. You ought to try out for American Idol.”

“No. I’m not interested in that.”

“I’m sure you could make some money with your talent. Did you ever do any recording? Make a demo disc?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“I could help you with that. You could come to the radio station and I could record you there ... burn it into demo discs. We have all the equipment ... I mean, it’s not a full-blown recording studio but for someone singing acapella it’s more than adequate. I mean ... we don’t have the absolute latest technology ... no auto-tune...”

“Derrick has auto-tune. I don’t use it in the church, I wouldn’t want to use it in the studio.”

“Your church has auto-tune?”

“A couple of our other soloists use it. I think it’s a crutch.”

“Yeah -- I think it does make you sound over-processed. What do you say, Aja? It’s the least I could do to repay you for your kindness.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Sounds interesting. I’ve always wanted to try something like that. I have a day job, Jason.”

“I normally work second shift -- three to eleven. After the six o’clock news the station switches over to automated. So, if you have a free evening...”

“You’re sure it’d be all right?”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

“Tuesday?” she asked.

“I work Tuesday. Any time after seven. Do you know where the station is?”

“I sure do. I ride the bus past it every day to work.”

He took a card from his wallet and wrote a number on the back. “This is the direct line to the radio control room. Call it from your cell when you’re outside. I’ll come down and let you in.”

“Okay, Jason. I’ll see you Tuesday. Here’s Uncle Oscar now.”

Jason watched a new, white Chrysler 300 pull up. The driver jockeyed the car so it was parked, nose-to-nose with his.

Jason opened his trunk and removed his set of jumper cables.

The phone in the control room rang and Jason picked it up. “WNLX Radio...”

Jason -- it’s Aja. I’m out front.

“I’ll be right out.”

He made a quick scan of the equipment in the control room and then headed to the main entrance. Unlocking the door he opened it and Aja stepped inside. “I’ve never been in a radio station,” she remarked.

Jason re-locked the front door. “We have television, and AM and FM radio, all under this roof.” She followed him up a flight of stairs. “Down there are the television studios,” he said pointing through glass partitions. “That’s the news set.”

“I recognize it.”

“The other studio is used for locally produced commercials and the like.” He escorted her through a room with windows overlooking the studios and banks of equipment. “This is the television control room. There’s another control room over there so we can be running both studios simultaneously. Back here is radio where I work.”

Jason led her into the radio control room. “This is our radio Control Room A, where we run everything. Our FM station is automated, twenty-four seven. The AM station features talk radio during the day. We start at five in the morning with Deacon Jones’s show -- ag report and such for the farm community. Then at seven we have the morning news, followed by talk programming ‘til six in the evening. Then it’s the six o’clock evening news and after that we simulcast the FM music programming ‘til five the next day. Of course on Saturdays we simulcast the music all day. The AM simulcast differs only in station breaks and some commercials -- and we go to the network for news on the hour. On Sundays we have the church remotes on both AM and FM.”

“It’s all very interesting,” Aja remarked.

“Here’s the robot -- the automated system for music. It’s all digital on hard drives. This screen shows what we’ve played and what’s upcoming. The programming department works it all out weeks in advance. The second half of my shift is pretty boring -- all I do is watch the displays for trouble.”

A gray-haired man walked through the control room toward the television area. “Hello, Jason,” he said.

“Jake -- this is Aja Morgan. Aja -- this is Jacob Michaels.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he said.

“You’re the news anchor,” she replied. “I am very pleased to meet you in person. I watch you every night.”

Jake smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. If you’ll excuse me.” He headed into the television control room.

“So,” Aja said, “what’s the first half of your shift like?”

“Quite a bit busier. We record the six o’clock news at four. Jake’s quite an anchor, but even he can’t be two places at once.” He led her into a studio. “This is where we run our talk shows.”