The crimson countdown digits above studio camera three blinked down to zero, and the harsh, red tally light snapped on.
Dr. Joey Walker sat behind the anchor desk, his hands clasped so tightly over a single sheet of paper that his knuckles showed chalk-white against the dark laminate. The studio air conditioning was set to a freezing low, but a cold bead of sweat still traced a slow line down his temple, itching as it moved. He didn't dare reach up to wipe it.
Through his earpiece, Sarah's voice came from the control room, flat and completely stripped of production warmth. "You're live in three, two... read the prompter, Joey. Word for word."
Joey forced his mouth into a rigid, plastic smile. His facial muscles locked, tight and aching around his jaw, keeping the expression entirely separated from his eyes. He focused his gaze directly into the black lens of the center camera.
