The Biker Who Saved My Worst Day

The day began like every other day for Emma Brooks.

She rushed into the studio and slipped into her seat in front of the large monitor. After plugging in her headphones, she started talking.

The traffic had delayed her on her way to the studio.

Thank goodness the producer had already set up the sound system and transmitter.

“Welcome to today's show. Emma Brooks on the line,” she said into the microphone.

A guest joined the live broadcast. She appeared on the large monitor before Emma. She was a thin, pale woman with rumpled clothes.

“Good morning, ma. How may we be of help to you?”

“Ma'am, my name is Katie Parker. I'm here to ask for support,” the woman replied while rocking her daughter.

Emma listened to the woman on the other side of the screen with rapt attention. Her voice was tired. She spoke every word with great effort.

The woman wiped tears away from her face as she struggled to talk. She tried multiple times to hide her face from the camera.

“Madam, please just talk. At Crownline FM, we don't judge people. I promise you are in safe hands,” she said, looking at the woman.

Emma felt like she should be there on the other side, helping the lady perhaps. She wanted to do more than just listen. Katie was the first person to ever break down so badly since Emma had started conducting the Your Hope Show.

I must help her at all costs, Emma thought.

Wiping the tears from her face, the lady faced the camera and began talking.

“So, my daughter and I have been sleeping under the bridge for the past three months. We can barely afford food,” Katie said, tears streaming down her thin face.

“Why have you been sleeping on the streets, Katie?” Emma asked. This question was not necessary, but the studio's fans needed to hear it anyway.

“My rent was due four months ago. The landlord sent me and my daughter packing. We had nowhere to go, so we stayed under the bridge.”

“So sorry about that, Katie. How old is your daughter?” Emma asked, looking up from her notes. She wrote everything down.

“She is five?” Katie replied.

Emma's eyes widened. A five-year-old sleeping on the street!

“Okay, Katie, I'm going to get back to your line.”

After ending the call, she began addressing the listeners directly.

“Good day, everyone. Like we just heard, Katie's story is heartbreaking. She is stranded. She needs help. She is not asking for much. Whatever you can give will be much appreciated,” she said through the microphone.

Minutes later, her tab buzzed with messages.

“Touched. I will contribute $2,000 to Katie's upkeep,” a male respondent said.

“I have a bungalow. I'm going to give it to Katie and her daughter,” an elderly woman replied.

“I am a principal. I will give Katie's child a full scholarship until she finishes college.”

Messages flooded in. People promised to help Katie.

Emma felt relieved. Katie finally had a home to stay in.

She reconnected with Katie on the live video. With the Crownline platform, she had brought hope to people for real.

“So, Katie, I have talked to people about your situation, and lots of people are more than happy to help you. Katie, can you call out your account number so they can transfer money to you, and drop your contact information so they can send you the key to your new home?” Emma said, looking at Katie with a full smile.

Katie jumped to her feet when she heard that someone was offering her a home. She began dancing on the live video.

Her sleeping daughter woke up. She looked at the camera innocently, oblivious to the fact that their fate had been changed.

“Thank you so much, Emma. I'm so grateful. Baby, tell Auntie thank you,” Katie told her daughter.

In a small, shy voice, the baby girl said, “Thank you.”

“No, you should thank the people. They gave you the money.”

Katie continued thanking the people while the producer ended her segment.

“Yes, yes, yes. So, everybody, Katie is so grateful for your help. The Crownline FM team is also grateful for having you. See you next Friday.”

She ended the live session and turned around. She was met by the producer, who had his arms crossed over his chest. A smirk played across his face.

Her stomach dropped.

Emma looked at him, puzzled. He glanced at Emma briefly before saying,

“The manager wants to see you in his office now.”

“Okay,” she replied.

She pulled off the headset, placing it on the table beside the large monitor. She pushed her chair backward and walked out of the control room.

She stood in front of the dark oak door, taking a deep breath before she knocked.

“Come in,” the manager replied.

She walked into the warm-lit, spacious office. The large floor-to-ceiling glass window revealed the big city before her. The window not only revealed the city, but it also reflected sunlight directly into the office.

She walked quietly to the manager's desk.

He sat on the armchair, legs crossed, while he flipped his pen between his fingers.

“You called for me, sir.”

“You may be seated,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She took the seat opposite him and settled herself into the chair.

The manager looked up. His dark eyes met Emma's, sending shivers down her spine.

Her hands rested on her lap as she nervously fidgeted with the edges of her skirt.

The manager cleared his throat and placed his hands on the table. Then he spoke.

“Our organization has been running on a lack of manpower for a while. We need competent people for the major roles,” the manager said, emphasizing the word major.

Emma nodded. She wondered what the manager was getting at.

“For that reason, the management has decided to let go of incompetent workers and staff members who are not complying with the company system.”

Emma raised her eyebrows at the manager, hinting that she didn't understand what he was saying.

“Well, I have to say this. We are letting you go,” he said.

“To where?” Emma asked.

The manager looked at Emma incredulously.

Raising his voice, he said, “Emma, I mean we're firing you.”

The words struck her like a blow. She thought he wanted to transfer her.

She stared at the man before her, then looked around the room. Placing her hand on the arm of the chair, she leaned towards the manager.

“Did you say you are firing me?”

“Yes, Emma. The management has been on this decision for a while.”

“I—I—I have been doing very well. You even praised me last week, so how?” Emma said, her voice shaking. Her hands trembled on the table.

The manager looked at her and shook his head.

“Emma, I wish I could change their minds, but they have decided, and that's final.”

She looked at the manager.

“That's final.”

“I don't believe you, sir. On what grounds is your judgment based? I gave my all to this company… I…”

The manager cut her off.

“Emma, I know you don't understand, but the decision was not based on competence.”

“Then why?” she asked, looking at the manager as he fidgeted in the chair.

“Emma, I don't know. That's all I can say. You are dismissed,” he said, tapping his pen on the table.

The manager dismissed her. He had been thinking about how to fire Emma without raising suspicion about the donations the company wanted to pass through the station before reaching the beneficiaries.

He had already looked for another host for the show. Even though it was created by Emma, he needed to make as much money as possible from it. After all, it was his station, and the shareholders were also there for profit.

He thought she wasn't going to tell the fans to send the money directly to Katie. But she did. Now he couldn't help but send her away.

She stood up and walked out of the office. She walked back to the control room.

She packed her books and put her laptop into her bag.

She closed the door and leaned against it. She took a deep breath.

While leaning against the door, she heard whispers from the room.

She pressed her ear against the door.

“Since she wouldn't give the company's account number to the public and let the studio decide how much to give the beneficiary, they decided to find a better host,” Lilian said.

“Hmmm, but her father has a big company. She could do her charity over there,” Jane said.

Emma shook her head. She stepped away from the door and headed for her car.

I don't blame you people. It's because you have never put yourself in their shoes, she thought.

She opened the door and sat behind the steering wheel.

Placing her head on the steering wheel, she was about to cry but held back her tears.

She thought, I don't need this right now. I should call Logan.

She opened the small bag on the other side of the front seat and pulled

out her phone.

She called Logan.

The first ring went unanswered. So did the second.

She started the car. Looking at Crownline FM for the last time, she drove out of the station.