Black Male and female co Audiobook narrator

“You’re listening to WGLI 99.1 FM. This is Late Night with the Love Lawyer. Next caller, please,” Alan spoke smoothly into the microphone. “Hi, this is Sean from Atlanta,” a male voice came over the airwaves. “ATL, what’s on your mind?” Alan asked, adjusting his headphones. “Well, it’s like this. There’s this girl I’ve wanted for a long time—since high school. I finally got her, but no matter what I do, it’s not appreciated. It’s like the better I treat her, the worse she treats me, and—” “Stop right there!” Alan cut in abruptly. “I see on my screen you’re twenty-nine years old. That means you’ve desired this woman for almost eleven years. Let me guess—she has at least two kids, plus that pretty face and big booty you’ve always wanted. Am I correct?” “Yes. Exactly. How did you know?” the caller asked, stunned by Alan’s almost uncanny perception. “How I know isn’t the issue. What you need to know is who you are to her,” Alan replied. “And who am I to her?” the caller asked, his voice tightening. “You, my good sir, are the cleanup man,” Alan said coldly. “You see, the bad-boy types have attracted women like this their entire lives. After a few kids and heartbreaks, they go looking for beta simps like you—the steady Eddie, the stable, able man to foot the bill for their poor decisions. But understand this—she doesn’t want you; she wants what you can do for her.” “You’re right. I guess I’ve been lying to myself. What should I do?” the caller asked, his voice wavering. “You need to get my book. Read chapter four—and run like hell,” Alan said bluntly before ending the call. Alan took a sip of warm tea and glanced at the prompter. “Our next caller is Sheila from Chicago. What’s on your mind, miss?” “Hi, Love Lawyer. I’m an attractive single woman. I have four kids, and I’m having a hard time finding the right guy,” she said, her voice edged with desperation. “How many kids did you say you have?” Alan asked. “Four.” “Lady, you don’t need a man—you need a babysitter!” Alan shot back, ending the call. Phillip, the head technician, burst out laughing as he cued up the next caller. “Our next caller is from around the way. Laqueta from Brooklyn—talk to me,” Alan said. “Well, I just bought and read your book, and it’s not all that. Who in the hell are you to be giving people advice and talking to women like that?” she snapped, her voice laced with attitude. “I’ll wager you’re overweight—and most likely divorced?” “What the hell? Are you serious? And no, I’m not fat. I’m thick. And I don’t have problems getting any man I want.” ‘Thick’ is just another word for fat in the right places. And I’m sure you can find plenty of men to take you to the local three-hour smash-and-dash, but a steady man? That you don’t have,” Alan said bluntly. “Oh no, you didn’t!” she shouted. “This is my show —and yes, I did. Listen, why are you calling me?” “The reason I called is to tell you that you’re not only rude and obnoxious—you’re also a terrible writer!” she fired back. The air crackled as millions of listeners tuned in, thoroughly entertained by the verbal sparring. “If I’m such a poor writer, why has my book been on the bestseller list for the last five months?” Alan asked, arching an eyebrow. There was a brief, palpable silence. “Go screw yourself!” she shouted. “Now that would be difficult,” Alan replied with a chuckle. Alan leaned into the microphone. “See what I mean? A lot of these women out here don’t need a man—they need a therapist. Don’t you be the one on the receiving end of their issues and…” Phillip, in the control room, motioned to him—it was time to wrap. As smooth, saxophone-laced jazz filled the air, Alan nodded and slipped into his polished radio voice. “Well, everybody, court is adjourned. If you want an autographed copy of my book, I’ll be downtown next week for a signing. And remember—in love, marriage, and baby carriage, it’s all business, baby.” “And cut,” the technician said. Alan stood up, removed his headphones, and exited the sound booth. Station manager Mr. Richard Clark was waiting for him, wearing a congratulatory smile. Clark placed a firm hand on Alan’s shoulder. “ Keep it up. Your ratings are still through the roof.” Clark said, his blue eyes beaming as he looked at Alan as his cash cow. Mr. Clark was all about ratings and revenue from advertisers and sponsors.