Herculanium Read Online Free Page A

slam-dunking a ball in front of millions.
    He was always center-stage, whether he liked it or not.
     
    * * *

    It wasn’t hard for Micky to find her cameraman, even in a crowded room. All she had to do was tune out all the background noise and listen for a deep, resonating laugh. Clayton Smith was a deceivingly young-looking black man, surprisingly fit for an elderly man of 53. He dyed his hair black to hide his gray temples, and only his puffy eyes came close to revealing his age. He was quick to laugh, with a wit to match. Although he hadn’t been Micky’s cameraman very long, they both found each other’s company surprisingly complementary.
    “Micky, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all over the place.”
    “Relax, partner. I’ve just been doing the rounds with friends and contacts. You know the routine. I’m going to show up eventually.” She placed her arm around his compact shoulders. “Get any good footage, Clay?”
    “Oh yeah, lots of great footage of construction workers and technicians. You haven’t missed much of anything.”
    “Get lucky?” Micky smiled as Clay smiled back in response. “You know what I mean. I know you know what I mean!” He couldn’t help but keep smiling.
    “I just got a few numbers, okay? It’s been a slow night. This big camera doesn’t attract the ladies like they used to.
    “They’re not really letting the press get too close to the stage. Most of the news media here have stationary cameras already planted in the best spots. We’re one of a handful that have mobile units. How do you want to handle this?” Clayton looked into his camera viewer and panned it from left to right repeatedly, testing the unit’s focus and lighting measure.
    “Get a shot of me with the stage as a backdrop. The networks are going to handle the blow-by-blow cam, we just have to worry about getting a spot interview. Hopefully, we can get lucky and come out of this with a decent angle.”
    “Security’s getting tighter and tighter the closer we get to show time. If we didn’t have these press badges, I don’t think we could’ve gotten as close as we have so far.”
    Micky’s ruby-red lips stretched into a smile. “Oh, I think we still could’ve. At least I could.”
    “Sweetie, if I had your long legs, I’d be backstage humping everyone right now.” Clay learned never to misconstrue the heavy sexual innuendo between their dialogue as anything else beyond work banter. Too bad, he reflected; he’d tear her in half if given the chance.
    “I’ll stay close from here on in, Clay,” she said. “This is about to go down.”
     
    * * *

    Allan Henderson raised his head from his froth-stained arms. He used them as makeshift pillows to support his head up from the liquid he had been vomiting most of the evening. He squinted in the darkness, barely seeing Phil the bartender pointing the remote control towards one of the hanging television sets, pressing the volume to make it louder.
    “Here we go, people! Here comes the big news!” Phil raised his arms and motioned the customers to come closer to the bar. “Alright, you nerds, pay attention. One of you just might win.”
    Allan stood up on the cross-bars on his stool support and stared at the television. Though his eyes began to dry and burn, he refused to blink. He didn’t want to miss a second of his greatest success, or his worst failure. The crowd behind him went from whispers to babbling, seemingly not caring who would win or lose, but just looking for any reason to yell. He wasn’t sure if his fellow scientists remained in the lounge or went back to their suites.
    It didn’t matter, because this glory was only meant for one.
    Micky peeked behind the curtains to see stagehands scrambling through last-minute preparations. The wandering spotlights focused solely on a lone podium at the center of the Sequoia’s elevated main stage. Security guards began herding the milling crowd toward the stage, while the