public, some which must be done in secrecy. I'm going to need help from each of you to make that happen. But first, I must say that none of this would be possible if it were not for the incredible vision of Sydney Hack."
Huh? Whaaa…
She turned and looked right at me. "Sydney, we haven't been formally introduced yet, but I must compliment you on the way you turned things around in the news division for this network. Your work is nothing less than inspiring, and it takes a lot for someone in a news department to inspire someone from Hollywood. Anyone who can grow the ratings with that disastrous prime-time line-up as a lead-in is a genius. What you've done is the basis for the changes that we are going to start implementing today."
Twelve pairs of eyes looked at me for an answer. I just smiled and nodded. "Thank you," I said. "You're very kind."
"Don't be modest, Sydney," said Amanda. "Your changes have given us the road map to take this network in a new direction. One that is going to change the face of broadcasting and kick our competitors' asses. One that is going to make the entire country rethink the way business is done, one that will change the way men and women look at relationships. The premise is very simple, and one I know you are all going to like. Here's the deal, and it will be written in stone. All of our prime-time shows this fall are going to mirror the current theme of our local newscasts."
She paused a moment, letting it sink in. "Got it?" she asked.
Heads began to nod.
Oh.
My.
God.
(That crazy idea I had for a network the other night in the bedroom while Scott was pulling his laundry off the ceiling? Should have copyrighted the damn thing.)
"In other words," said Amanda, "the shirtless, tattooed men who have starred in CBN's shows are being replaced with very attractive, smart, professional, sexually aggressive women over thirty who don't see age as a boundary in a relationship. Every show in prime time will be female-driven. Every single one. There will still be good looking, shirtless men of course," she said, pausing as the women in the room laughed, "but they'll be playthings. They'll also be classy, well-educated, have full sets of teeth," she paused as the group laughed again. "And they'll also be…" She stopped and looked around the room and put her palms up. "Anybody?"
"Younger?" I said.
She pointed her finger at me and smiled. "You got it, Sydney. Welcome, women of CBN, to a network where women are always in charge."
Several "woo-hoos" went up around the room as the group exhaled all tension collectively. No one was getting fired, except the people who had produced the God-awful stuff we'd been running in prime time.
And my grand little experiment was about to take on a life of its own.
"Oh, one more very important thing," added Amanda. "We're going to be known as the Consolidated Group from now on. And you'll see why down the road."
Neely gave me a gentle elbow. "I can understand why you're here Syd, but what are we doing here?"
"I'm glad you all seem so receptive to the idea," said Amanda. "And I think America will feel the same way. When the fall rolls around, you won't be able to recognize this network. Everything will be new. Every single show now on the air has been cancelled, and most will be yanked off the air immediately. We're basically rebooting, rolling out a new network, which is another reason for the name change. And that brings me to the second part of our plan, which entails synergy with the news division." She turned toward me and smiled. "And that's why we needed you here, Sydney, along with the news directors of our major market stations."
Neely, Rica and Jillian all sat up straight and leaned forward in unison, as if on cue.
Then Amanda dropped the bombshell.
"We're going to launch a 24-hour cable network based here in New York. And I'm asking the four of you to run it."
* * *
"Oh, we're definitely having an agenda on this network," said Amanda, who speared a forkful of grilled salmon that was drenched in bourbon sauce.
Aw, shit. There goes paradise.
"Republican or Democrat?" I asked, suddenly losing my appetite at the prospect of tormenting the American public with political scream-fests. The petite sirloin that had just arrived was still spitting at me, sending out a call to my growling stomach.
She shook her head as she chewed her salmon. The brightly lit midtown restaurant was still crowded at two o'clock, and loud, filled with too many business people talking either to each other, on their cell phones, or both. The bar was elbow-to-elbow with men who were maintaining their liquid diets during lunch, while watching a rare Mets day game and cheering the occasional good play. Amanda flagged down a young waiter and pointed to her empty wine glass. He nodded at her, smiled and disappeared into the kitchen where he was swallowed up by the sound of clanging plates and silverware. Finally she took a sip of water and gave me my answer. "Nothing so pedestrian as politics, Syd. Let the other networks go right or left and alienate half the audience. Our only agenda is women. Women over thirty are the target demo specifically, but women overall. Remember, young women will eventually become older. In the back of our viewers' minds, subliminally, must be the concept that men are simple playthings, just accessories that any woman can have, like a designer purse. Just as the shoes must match the dress, the younger man must match the older woman. No knock-offs, either. The men must be the real thing, the dream guy, not something they'd settle for to avoid a life as a spinster with a houseful of cats. All you have to do is time-warp yourselves back fifty years to the days of weather bunnies on the news, when women stayed home and did all the cooking and cleaning, and men routinely slept with their secretaries. Then just reverse the sexes. It's that simple. And that's what I want from you. That's what our viewers will want from the network once they get a taste of it. We're going to turn the damn country upside down in the bedroom, and the boardroom. Let the world know women have had enough, that we're taking over, and we're changing the rules for good. It's a seller's market, and we're the only store in town. If you're a man, and you want sex, you play by our rules. And we take what we want."
"You know," said Jillian, stabbing a bit of her blackened chicken salad and pointing her fork at Amanda, "I think I like her."
"Fuhgeddaboudit," said Rica. "I'm in love."
An attractive young man walked by our table while his eyes made the rounds. He locked on Neely, who smiled back at him. Then she turned back to Amanda. "So, what you're basically saying is that women are the new men," said Neely.
"Oooh, I love that," said Amanda, grinning wide. "And there needs to be an underlying tone in the broadcast as well. I mean, you still need anchor teams like the ones you have in your stations, but the stories all have to reflect our agenda. You can't just do a regular style newscast. The product has to have a lifestyle feel to it. Viewers need to sense that women are in control of everything and that men are—"
"Oooh, oooh!" Neely put up her hand and waved, chewing fast, making us all wait till she swallowed. She gulped, took a swig of water, and almost jumped out of her chair. "I've got it! Men are the new women!"
"Yes! I think I love that even more," said Amanda. "Neely, we might have to turn you loose on the promotions department."
"So basically it's all women, all the time," I said.
"Twenty-four
