like to keep doing that," said Neely. I heard chuckles all around and couldn't help but smile.
"You know what I meant," said Rica.
"So what's the situation this week?" asked Jillian.
"He's not speaking to me," I said. "Though yesterday he went from brooding victim to looking like he's up to something."
"Think he'll show tomorrow night?" asked Jillian.
"We'll find out soon enough," I said.
* * *
Actually the answer swatted the front door of my townhouse around five in the morning on Friday. It arrived in the form of a New York tabloid, complete with a front page picture of Scott Harry and a headline that made my jaw hang open like a trophy bass.
Anchor Goes "Undercover" to Keep Job
Ho.
Lee.
Shit.
I dashed back inside the heavy oak front door, slammed it, and pressed my back against it like I was hiding from a firing squad. Then I quickly unfolded the paper.
It got worse.
Cougar Boss Turns Scott Into Dirty Harry
By Cassandra West
Apparently the news business is no longer couched in secrecy.
It's simply a couch.
Of the casting variety.
That's the story from local anchor Scott Harry, who claims that he was hired by News Director Sydney Hack in return for sex. Harry adds that weekly trysts with his boss are a requirement should he wish to keep his job.
"I've spent every Friday night with Ms. Hack at her home since I was hired, and I only got the job after sleeping with her," said Harry, who has pumped up ratings for the station since his arrival but has grown tired of the arrangement. "I recently asked to be released from my contract, but was told that providing sexual favors was part of my job description."
The attractive, copper-haired thirty-something Hack, known as both Neutron Syd or The Red Queen in the broadcasting industry, raised eyebrows when she hired twenty-nine-year-old Harry and paired him with middle-aged Caroline Jensen, creating what is often referred to in journalistic circles as The Cougar Report . Curiously enough, the biggest ratings increase for the station occurs in the middle-aged female demographic.
Hack could not be reached for comment.
"Yeah, you can't get a comment if you don't pick up the damn phone," I said aloud.
Just as the phone rang.
* * *
It was so quiet I could hear my pumps crunch the royal blue carpet that led to the CEO's office.
I could also hear my heart pounding in my head as I opened the glass door to the reception area.
"Ah, Ms. Hack," said Kendra, the young Asian receptionist who had been busy opening mail. "You're expected. Go right in."
"Thanks," I said.
Then Kendra did something I didn't expect to see at a career wake.
She smiled at me.
Okay, I've never done anything to this woman. She can't possibly be happy that I'm getting fired.
I knocked softly, opened the heavy mahogany door and entered the executioner's den. Thankfully the CEO was on the phone and I got a stay for a few minutes.
"Yes, thank you," said Madison Cartwright, the founder of the network. The slender forty-year-old blonde smiled at me and extended an open palm toward the chair in front of her desk. I took a seat in the red leather chair and hung on to the arms for dear life as she continued the conversation. Her pale blue eyes matched her silk blouse, both lit up by the bright sunlight that poured into the corner office through windows that offered a terrific view of the Chrysler. "Stroke of genius, if you ask me," she said, twirling a slim silver pen in her long manicured fingers. "She's here right now. I'll call you a little later." She hung up, brushed her shoulder-length hair back and looked at me. "Sydney, I'm sorry I didn't get to meet with you Friday but I had a family emergency." She slapped her hands face down on the desk. "All I can say is that I sure never expected something like this from you."
"I'm really sorry, Madison," I said. "I should have—"
"Actually I'm glad you didn't tell me because I'm terrible at keeping secrets." She leaned forward and lowered her voice, even though the office door was closed. "So tell me, how'd you get Scott to go along with it?"
Now I'm really confused.
"Go… along…"
"Syd, the phones have been ringing off the hook. Half the women calling are congratulating you and the other half want to know how to get into news management." Then she held up a printout that I recognized as the daily ratings chart. "And the overnights for this past Friday are through the roof."
"So, you mean, you're not—"
"What? Mad? Are you kidding? We're the talk of the industry. You proved that women don't have to be put out to pasture at forty." She flipped the ratings printout to me. "The young women love him, the old women love him, and they all love you for giving him a mature co-anchor and letting them know the rules can be the same for women as men. You've empowered us, Syd. You turned back the clock to the 1950s so we can make up for lost time and chase the cute men around the desk. Frankly, I'm wondering why the hell I have a female assistant."
I exhaled for perhaps the first time in three days.
"Just one more thing, Syd."
"Yes?"
"I know you were the one who found Scott and all, but I was wondering if—"
"Yeah?"
Madison's smile grew, bringing out her perfect cheekbones. "Maybe one Friday when you're out of town. Would you be willing to… share?"
* * *
I was done with Scott, having "given" him to Madison. So back to checking references.
The leading candidate to anchor our new five o'clock newscast weaved his way past the tables, leaving a trail of hanging female tongues in his wake. The dark gray pinstripe vest draped from Jason Deller's broad shoulders, while his slim hips carried him through the room.
Here we go again.
I sat up straight on my bar stool, crossing my left leg over my right to take advantage of the slit on that side of my royal
