Luscious put hand to ample hip and poked out her lower lip. “If you want me home so bad, then give me a ride, hell.”
“No, you need to sit your big ass on the bus and think about the stupid shit you did,” Kevon snapped.
Simone watched the scene as if it were a bad movie, one that she would never even watch, much less play a role in.
As Luscious shuffled down the sidewalk muttering curses, Kevon leaned out of the window and tried to sweet talk her. “I'm sorry about that, baby girl. Come inside for a minute. Let me talk to you. I want to make sure my honey's all right.”
Still dazed by the insane situation, Simone found herself sequestered inside Kevon's Hummer before she fully realized that she did
not
want to be there.
“Kevon, I don't know what we are doing or what we were doing, but I do know that it's over. Right here. Right now. I'm not putting up with any of this nonsense.”
“It's all good, baby girl,” Kevon said soothingly. “It's all good. I've handled things. Nothing like that will ever happen again.”
“So you
do
know her,” Simone accused. “She's not some crazy fan.”
“Yeah, I know her ...
and
she's a crazy fan.” He laughed a little.
But Simone remained stone-faced. “Any man who wants to see Simone Williams,
only
sees Simone Williams.”
“You're the only woman I'm seeing like that, baby girl,” he assured her. “The Luscious Browns don't mean a thing.” Kevon reached for an iced-down bottle of Cristal. “Now let's wet those sweet lips with some champagne.”
Simone waved away the offer. “Now wait a minute. When I said,
only see Simone Williams
, that's precisely what I meant. There is no
like that
to seeing someone exclusively.”
Kevon gave her a crazy look. “Do you plan on sucking my dick whenever I want a blow job?”
Simone lengthened her spine and stared back haughtily. “That's disgusting. I don't do that.”
“Well, you sure are making a lot of demands for a woman who won't suck dick. Because I'm not giving that up. There are plenty of hos who'll do it just to say they did. But that's got nothing to do with you. Or us.”
Simone had heard quite enough. “Correctionâthis has nothing to do with
me
. There is no
us
. At least not anymore.” She moved fast to slip out of the limousine and onto the sidewalk.
What she saw first was the wheels of an SUV turning fast to jump the curb and careen in her direction. What she saw last was Tommy Robb behind the wheel ...
THE IT PARADE
BY
J
INX
W
IATT
Â
Fill in the Blanks
Â
Hell hath no fury ... you know the rest, darlings. A certain mature morning chat show doyenne is workingovertime to avoid the swinging ax. Rumors are rampant that number-crunchingexecs are adding up the viewer polls that reveal TV watcherswould rather tune out than in whenever this half-century lady's on the screen. Ouch! How patient will the suits be? And how many lives does this snarling spinster cat have in the biz? Nine is the magic number.But some say she's already on number eleven.
25
Sutton
Sutton stared slack-jawed at the front page of the
New York Post
:
YANKEE ROBB KILLS BYSTANDER IN JEALOUS ROAD RAGE
New York Yankees superstar Tommy Robb has left the batter's cage for a jail cell after a jealousy-fueled road rage incident that left one pedestrian dead.
Witnesses say Robb was aiming for Simone Williams, a former actress/model and now a televisiontalk show host on
The Beehive
, when his 2008 Cadillac Escalade struck Queens resident Luscious La Raison Verdeeka Brown on the sidewalk in front of the Upper East Side apartment building where Williams lives.
Robb and Williams were romantically linked beforebreaking up last NewYear's Eve.Williams is now reportedly dating hip-hop mogul Kevon Edmonds, who led efforts on the scene to provide emergency assistance for the victim. Brown died hours later at Lenox Hill Hospital. The twenty-three-year-old is survived by one daughter, Princessia Purple Rain Shelton, and two sisters, Precious Quanticia Brown and Delicious Yvette Brown.
No official charges have been filed against Robb. At press time, the Yankee outfielder was awaiting arraignment. Blood alcohol level and drug test resultsare pending.
Sutton put down the newspaper and sipped slowly on her coffee as Joey and Olivia quietly did their hair and makeup work. She tapped a manicured nail on the ghastly headline. “Has anyone seen Simone this morning?”
Joey spoke up first. “She's still a little shaken up, but I think she'll be fine. Simone's a tough girl.”
“A
lucky
girl, too,” Olivia put in. “That could've just as easily been her in the hospital morgue.”
Sutton cleared her throat. “Was Emma in makeup?”
Joey and Olivia traded meaningful glances.
“No, I haven't seen her,” Joey said.
Sutton watched their reactions but said nothing. To say
The Beehive
set suffered from tension was the understatement of the year. Was Sutton on her way out? Had Emma quit for good? Who was being considered to fill the possible slots? The questions were piling up. But the answers were far less plentiful.
“Gorgeous suit,” Joey remarked, carefully brushing a speck of lint from Sutton's Alpine white shoulder. “St. John?”
She nodded.
He caught her gaze through the mirror and smiled. “It becomesyou.Very elegant.”
“Maybe we should change my hair,” Sutton suggested. “To better match the suit.”
Joey played with some styles, entertaining the idea of putting it up, wearing it down, pulling it back. “I vote up,” he said finally.
“Me, too,” Olivia agreed. “You have such a pretty face and such gorgeous skin.You can pull it off. And believe me, not everyone can with the up-do.” She laughed a little.
Sutton nodded her approval to Joey.
She was enjoying a whole new approach to life after contemplatinga full bottle of Ambien. There had been the career Waterloo in Jay Lufkin's office. And shortly after that, the cruel reality of Scooter's true interest and the losing bet with his buddies that had predicated their first encounter. For a prolonged moment, the pills seemed like the least painful solutionto her disappointments and humiliations.
But the shrewder aspect of Sutton's mind ultimately prevailed.She was not going to destroy herself over a loser like Scooter Betts. He was an uneducated barkeep with a metal bar pierced into his cock. Big fucking deal. So what if he made a fool of her? She caught on more quickly than he wanted her to,
and
she enjoyed some amazing orgasms courtesy of his impressive bedroom prowess. At the end of the day, she could hardly call it a total rip-off.
And she was not going to roll over and play dead on
The Beehive
for the White Glove executive pricks, either. Those poll-obsessed assholes had all the ingredients for a great show sitting in their laps, but they were too busy slaving over researchdata to realize it.
Had they even considered the overall concept for the show when they got a sudden hard-on for Paula Deen and bellied up an offer to her people? For starters, how would that woman's favorite macaroni and cheese recipe and cornpone family memories play against Finn's big city gay boy act and Simone's fashionista persona? Even the dumbest son of a bitch could predict certain disaster for that scenario.
And it was not until word leaked about Emma's decision to leave the show that Sutton allowed herself to realize the strengths the young journalist brought to the program. Her appeal to viewers could not be denied.The research was there to prove it. Sutton also had to admit that the girl's backgroundwas rock solid. She had the double college degree in broadcast journalism and political science, the fast ascent from local news field reporter to anchor.
The irony was not lost on Sutton. She had been consumedwith irrational hatred for Emma, obsessed with the idea of forcing her out. But now she could see that
The Beehive
needed her. Emma Ronson was the star. Sutton could admit that now. And the show needed her presence, competence, and universal appeal. Without it, the whole enterprise could implode. For the sake of the bigger picture, Sutton could link arms with a fellow newswoman and get the job done. The situationcould be worse ... say, a reality bimbo of the Elisabeth Hasselbeck variety sitting beside her. Jesus Christ.
That
would be torture.
The days of Sutton blaming Emma for Garrison leaving her were over. In hindsight, her animosity had been such a spurned woman cliché. As a general rule, Sutton had such impatience for other women who hated the sluts their husbandsand boyfriends slept with yet somehow found a way to forgive these cheating bastards. And she had succumbed to the same emotional weakness.
But that was the past. Sutton had clarity now. It had barely arrived in the nick of time. There was much work to be done and many fences to mend in order to set
The Beehive
on the proper course for continued success. And together, Sutton felt certain that she and Emma could unite into a reckoning force when it was time to do battle against Jay and the White Glove executives for the greater good of the show.
Enough with the goddamn research and ridiculous cateringto the whims of viewers! They would never build the perfect program that way. Television success was like lightning in a bottle, nearly impossible to manufacture and replicate. There was a reason why
Friends
soared to phenomenal heights while every cloned sitcom about twentysomething singletons failed fast.
Sutton had been knocking around the business for more than twenty-five years. She had learned a thing or two during that tenure. Now it was time for her to stop acting like a horse cunt and teach these fuckers what she knew before everything came crashing down around them.
As Joey and Olivia fluttered around her, Sutton continued to observe their tense posturing and secret glances. She felt certain that
something
was going on. And it had nothing to do with the general state of unknown plaguing
The Beehive
set.
“What is it?” Sutton demanded.
Joey and Olivia traded wild-eyed looks.
“The two of you obviously have some piece of news that you don't want to tell me but can't wait for me to find out.”
Joey's gaze fell onto the
New York Post
.
Sutton snatched the tabloid and began whipping through the pages on a mad search for whatever she had missed. And suddenly there it was, with a photograph no less.
AGING PUBLISHING MAGNATE ECHOES HEFNER IN STEAMY ROMP WITH JAPANESE STARLET TWIN SISTERS
Self-proclaimed “magalog king” Garrison Friedberg,64, could be a walking testimonial for the ED drug industry. Sources claim he's scoring with not one but two Japanese starlets. Last night the publishercut a swath through Manhattan's trendy nightclub scene flanked by reality show phenoms Mio and Mako Kometani, twin sisters who have hit it big stateside with the Oxygen network reality show
Deep Inside M&M
.
“They were
all
over each other,” a source told the
Post
.“Totally making out. It was disgusting. I couldn't tell if they needed to get a room or call an ambulance.”
Friedberg's spokesperson dismissed the romance rumors, insisting that the publisher's interaction with the twins is exclusively related to a magalog launch called
M&M Forever
, which will pull double duty as a lifestyle magazine and catalog for Mio and Mako Kometani products.
Sutton stopped reading, plopped the tabloid back onto the counter ... and started to laugh. It was real laughter from the gut. Once she started, she could not stop. Her stomach hurt. Her eyes watered. And the physical and emotional releasefelt fantastic. In fact, it was almostâbut not quiteâbetterthan sex with Scooter.
Joey and Olivia seemed to be waiting for the other Jimmy Choo to drop, as if her laughing attack was due to give way to a crying jag any moment.
“You can relax,” Sutton managed to say. “I'm not crazy. It's just so ...
ridiculous
.”
“It really is,” Olivia agreed.
Joey chuckled and shook his head. “What is it with straight guys and twins? I mean, it's kind of gross, you know?”
“I've known Garrison to do a lot of things,” Sutton venturedquietly, as if sharing some essential bit of inside information.
Joey and Olivia listened in awe.
“But I've never known him to think with his dick when it comes to business. I think that's a sign the poor man is losingit. Those imbeciles are already forty-five seconds into their fourteenth minute.”
Joey tilted his head. “I wonder if they make him listen to their CD.You know, like as foreplay or something.”
Olivia giggled. “Well, if he can still perform after listening to
that
, then he's better than any man half his age.”
Sutton smiled, quite satisfied with herself. Garrison was the laughingstock now. What a glorious turnaround. “Okay, kiddos. Finish me up. I need to have a heart-to-heart with Jay before the show.”
Joey made some final adjustments to Sutton's upsweep as Olivia worked fast to touch up her eye makeup. “All done,” they announced in perfect unison.
Sutton rose up from the chair, smoothed out the skirt of her St. John suit, and gave herself one final once-over. She looked sophisticated. She looked confident. And she looked
fifty
. But most of all, she looked fucking fabulous.
Jay was engrossed in a telephone conversation when she slipped inside his office. He nodded, raising a finger to indicatethat he would only be a minute. “Thanks for the call. I'll pass the word upstairs ... And to you as well.” He replaced the receiver and gave Sutton a meaningful look. “That was the official decline from Paula Deen's camp.”
Sutton betrayed no reaction, which was quite easy to do since she felt no sense of real relief.
The Beehive
was hers to mold, and nobody was going to step in and take her place. God would not allow it. This was her destiny.
“Welcome back,” Jay said. “You look like a million dollars.”
“Only a million?”
“Okay, one point five.”
“Cheap bastard.”
Jay smirked.
Sutton slid into the seat opposite his desk and crossed her legs. “What's happening with Emma?”
“You'll be pleased to know that she quit. It's not official yet. I'm still hoping that she'll reconsider.” He splayed open his hands in a helpless gesture. “But she's not here today.”
“Believe it or not, I'm not pleased at all.”
Jay's brow shot up in surprise.
“What's her issue?” Sutton asked.
“
The Beehive
is too soft. Emma wants more substance.”
“She's right.”
“The researchâ”
“Fuck research,” Sutton cut in. “It's based on attitudes that can change faster than you can act on the information.
Research
told ABC to put Regis in prime time four nights a week with that millionaire bullshit, and then the network was on life support until
Desperate Housewives
came along. The show
is
too soft. Those Kometani twits have served their purpose. Dump them. And I'm not saying this because they're fucking Garrison Friedberg. I'm saying this because by the time viewers get sick of them, it'll be too late. Use your instincts, Jay. You used to stage talk shows in your backyard as a kid. Stop using surveys, and start relying on those impulses. The public needs to be aware of
The Beehive
even if they're not watching it. That's real success. Look at
The View
. It's never been hotter. We'll never get there on the track we're on. Giving airtime to those Japanese whores giggling about who was supposed to clean up the dog's shit will never generate the kind of heat to make it to the next news cycle.”