AM Radio

“…and that’s it for me ladies and gents. Old Rosie is signing off for the night, but as always boys you can find me at my second job down at the The Tent Pole. I’ll be going on stage for my first set in half an hour. I’m going to let Simon and Garfunkel play me out, and when those boys finish you’ll get to hear a brand new voice. We’ve got a late night talk show again, Danny After Dark. Until Monday night, this is Rosie Rivets with Smooth Sounds on KBMB 940 AM.”

“Hello darkness, my old friend…”

Rosie is a woman in her late forties, not bad on the eyes, though like nearly all of Minnesota she’s carrying a few extra pounds, but to be fair they’re in her ass and tits. Shoulder length chunky bob in bottle black with purple highlights, immaculate makeup despite the 85% humidity, wearing a pair of Daisy Dukes and a halter top that leave nothing to the imagination. Her voice reminds me of a young Grace Slick. As someone once said, it reaches right out of the radio and tickles your balls, low and husky, with just a little bit of rasp.

Rosie shuts off the mic, drops her headset and stands up, nodding at me. “You ready for this, city boy?”

I try for a charming smile, but let’s be honest, I’m fucking exhausted and all I manage is a sickly grin. That’s when I notice the blonde in the corner, and I’m not really sure how I missed her. She’s almost a caricature of the bimbo stereotype. At least a double D rack, DSLs, eyebrows drawn on in a dramatic arch over liquid blue eyes that shine in the dim light of the station, her high pony pulling the hair back tightly from a heart shaped face with cheekbones you could do chin ups on. For fuck’s sake, she’s even wearing a babydoll tee in pink with “Daddy’s Girl” printed on it in looping cursive. “He’s gonna be fine, Rose.”

“Well with you here, he will be.” Rosie turns back to me. “You have the best damn producer in the industry, son. Anyway I have to get to The Pole. Radio don’t pay for a camper.”

Producer? This is Barbara Northrup? To say that she’s not what I’ve been expecting following our email conversations is an understatement. “Barbara-”

“Barbie. But there’s no time for that. Introductions later. It’s time to get you on the air.”

I caught a six AM flight out of Pittsburgh international, had a four hour layover at O’Hare, landed in Minneapolis/St. Paul at 2, took three hours to actually get a rental car, drove another six hours thanks to traffic to get here, haven’t even had the time to find my apartment let alone test the keys to it that I was fucking snail mailed. My breath stinks of cigarettes, coffee, and the McDonald’s I snagged in Duluth when I realized I hadn’t eaten since last night. I feel cold sweat trickle down my back as I take my seat and pull on my headphones.

“…and whispered in the sounds of silence.”

The green ‘On Air’ light comes on and all the exhaustion leaves me like it’s draining out. This is what I live for. These moments. “Guys, gals, and non-binary pals! Welcome to your late night talk home on KBMB, Black Beach AM, 940 on your radio dial. It’s such a pleasure to be talking to you all, but before I get ahead of myself some introductions are in order. I’m Danny Davis, sitting here in the studio with my producer Barbara-“

“Barbie.” Even her voice somehow sounds pink.

“Barbie. And this is Danny After Dark. I literally just rolled into town tonight, haven’t even stopped at my new apartment and I somehow managed to get lost driving Highway 61… Barbie, is that the same one from the Dylan song?

“It is, Danny.” She says my name like a caress. Is this how she always talks or is she actually flirting with me?

“Talk about kind of awesome. Anyway the highway’s literally a straight shot from Duluth to Grand Portage, right? At least that’s what my GPS says, or said before it suddenly started telling me I needed to turn right into Lake Superior and then conked out entirely, which makes me wonder if-“

“Let me cut you off there Danny. Satellite type stuff doesn’t really work around here. The Lake Spirits don’t like being spied on.”

She has to be joking… Doesn’t she? Her face doesn’t show it. Either she has a damn good poker face or she honestly believes it. “Lake Spirits, huh?”

“Oh ya. There’s a lot of things they don’t like.”

“Ok. I see what this is, you’re messing with the new guy.”

She just shakes her head. “You’ll learn.”

I’m pretty sure that I’ve just failed some sort of test. “Well then, I suppose I will. Let’s open up the phone lines. You’ve heard my story, Black Beach Bay, now I wanna hear yours. Give us a call here at 218-409-5944 and help educate the new guy. In the mean time, we’re going to take a quick break and pay some bills.”