“Zombie Radio, 91.1 FM. Hi, It’s Kari.” The voice was smokey confidence, borne of life behind the microphone. Just perky enough to make the afternoon commuters pay attention, it was the voice of unfiltered fun: summer nights with a beer and a cigarette; a screaming concertgoer; a short-shorts-wearing, frisbee-throwing co-ed. To men all over the listening area, “Kari” was a pair of full, red lips, a breath away from the microphone, taunting and playing with them, and they loved it.
Real-life Kari was less confident by far. She’d majored in broadcasting because her voice was the only part of her anyone had ever complimented. Behind the mic, she was a sexy goddess of the air. Outside, she was an anonymous brunette, one of billions, heavier than she wanted to be, and not particularly interesting. In high school, she’d been a four-eyed mouse; in college, a heavyset geek.
In actual fact, men were attracted to her appearance as well, enjoying her curvaceousness and olive skin, and even her shyness. But years of being taunted or ignored had ingrained themselves in her mind, and she could only see what she was afraid she was. So in her off-time, she dieted and trained and remained anonymous, content to have homeward commuters falling in love with her voice.
Her voice also hid an important fact about Kari. A fact which made her exactly like everyone else in the outside world, but a fact which made her vulnerable and must therefore be pushed down below, like the eating disorder she struggled to keep at bay. The fact was, she was scared out of her mind.
“So,” she said. “Four billion brand new people on the planet. The good news is, my listenership just doubled. Bad news, I’m not sure we have enough t-shirts for everyone.” And a wink to the guys in their trucks, the lonely guys who drove and listened and imagined. A sigh. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to give somebody MINE.”
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