Falling Star (50 page)

Shit!
Tony felt like an ant in the
midday sun, cornered by a kid with a magnifying glass and a mean
streak.

"Oh, yes." Pemberley nodded. "You think that
because I'm hands-off, I don't know what's going on? Wrong!" he
roared. "I know
exactly
what's going on! And so I know that
you tried to weasel out of your responsibility by shifting blame
onto your managing editor. Instead of where it belonged, on that
menace of a female you promoted to your flagship newscast. What
kind of management is that? How do you expect me to stand for
that?"

Tony hadn't the slightest idea.

"What you did to Howard Bjorkman," Pemberley
announced, "I am now doing to you. You're fired. Effective
immediately. But I will not dodge my responsibility for hiring you,
which I now consider the single greatest mistake of my career. And
I will gladly describe it as such to anyone who asks. Consider
yourself blackballed, Scoppio. Now get your sorry ass out of
here."

And Pemberley sat down at his corporate
throne, leaving Tony to slink out of Sunshine headquarters into the
unrelenting Phoenix sun.

Friday, October 4, 6:16 AM

Kelly tore her eyes away from
The Early
News
on KYYR to glare out her front window at the mob of
reporters camped on her lawn. What must her neighbors think about
this? A row of ENG trucks nearly blocked the street, their masts
high in the air, probably sending out enough radiation to give
cancer to everybody in Bel Air. They were tramping down the lawns
and leaving trash everywhere and it was a goddamn mess! She'd call
the cops, except she didn't want anything to do with them,
either.

These media people had a helluva nerve using
her
to beef up their newscasts. And that bastard Tony
Scoppio! So much for his promise not to call the cops about the
tape. Kelly grabbed the TV remote and jabbed the volume button. On
KYYR, that bitch Mindy Lee was reporting:

"At this hour, Devlin is closeted inside this
Bel Air home, refusing to answer reporters' questions about her
role in July's tragic shooting death of 6-year-old Jimmy Taylor.
The LAPD is reviewing the videotape that captured Devlin's actions
that night, though experts say criminal charges probably will not
be filed against her. But little Jimmy's mother says she's
consulting an attorney about a possible wrongful-death suit. 'I'm
not going to let that reporter get away with this. I can't get my
Jimmy back but I can sue.' "

Kelly watched the TV screen as the kid's
mother pumped her fist. That truly pissed her off.
Another
lawsuit? What did that make, three? Was this the new American way
to make money or what? At least it looked like criminal charges
might go away, so she wouldn't have to rot in jail.

Then Mindy Lee cut away from the mother's
sound bite to live pictures of picketers in front of KXLA. Kelly
couldn't believe the nerve of those lowlifes, either. Didn't these
people have jobs?

"The victim's family is receiving a lot of
support from child's rights organizations, who vow to raise money
for any legal action she might take. They're picketing KXLA and
organizing an advertiser boycott, even though both Devlin and News
Director Tony Scoppio have been fired."

Kelly let out a whoop. Now
that
was
good news! He deserved it, the double-crossing prick. But at that
moment Kelly happened to focus on one of the picketer's signs and
it felt like her blood suddenly ran cold.
CHILD KILLER!
it
read, in dark red marker made to look like blood, with a drawing of
her using a gun to shoot a kid.

She gaped at the TV. This was outrageous! She
had half a mind to run outside and give a statement to those
frigging reporters. But just as she was thinking about it, her
phone rang.

Again! Kelly ran into the kitchen to stare at
the bright red message counter on her answering machine. 44
messages. They were all from reporters wanting a comment, print and
radio and TV. So far she hadn't spoken to anybody but maybe now
that all these crazy accusations were flying around she should. She
wasn't sure. It was too bad Rico had dumped her because otherwise
she could ask him. But maybe all this publicity would make him want
her back, which would be good because she really did want to get
back on the air. So long as she was back on the air, everything
else would work out.

She couldn't help but be nervous as she
listened to her answering-machine announcement finish. What if the
cops had changed their mind and were calling to see if she was home
before they came to cart her away? A male voice came on and she
held her breath.

"Kelly, this is Bru Constantine from
Final Copy
."

She let out a relieved breath. Another
tabloid TV show calling for a comment. Actually, not bad.
Final
Copy
was
Hard Line
's biggest rival. So that was pretty
cool.

"We know you're preoccupied right now, but
some people here want to talk to you about a reporter opening. We
think you might be perfect for it. Please call at your
earliest—"

Kelly missed the rest of the message because
she was hollering so loud.
Final Copy
! Take that,
Hard
Line
! She slammed down her fist on the limestone counter. Yes!
It was like everybody said. All publicity was good publicity. Hell,
maybe eventually she could even get her own talk show out of this.
Didn't Joey Buttafuoco get one? And he had nothing on her.

She ran to the fridge for a bottle of
champagne. So what if it wasn't even 7 AM? Kelly Devlin had
something to celebrate.

*

10:46 AM. Natalie looked up from her business
plan and drummed her fingers on her desk. Should she postpone Jerry
Cohen? He'd asked to come by the station and said he'd be there by
10:30, but there was still no sign of him.

And Geoff's wedding was at noon. She didn't
want to be late. Actually she didn't want to
go
, but felt
she had to. She'd said she would, RSVP'ed in the affirmative,
checked her preference for salmon over steak at the reception, so
there you go.

Plus, she had to put on a good show. Her
pride demanded it.

Restlessly she rose to pace her little yellow
office. Maybe she should just skip the ceremony and do the
reception bit. Participate in the eating and the drinking and
bypass the vowing and the kissing.

She stopped dead. Right. Like there wouldn't
be kissing at the reception. There would be scads of it, only she
would be a witness and not a participant.

Her phone rang. She raced back to her desk.
It was the gate guard, shouting over the Kelly picketers to ask if
a Jerry Cohen should be let in. "Yes, I'm expecting him," Natalie
yelled back.

If she kept Jerry to half an hour, she
calculated as she replaced the receiver, she could still get to the
church before it got embarrassingly late. She didn't want to put in
an appearance at some critical moment, a la Dustin Hoffman in
The Graduate
. She'd just pulled out her Thomas guide to map
the fastest route when Ruth appeared in her doorway, glowing in a
seafoam-green suit. Natalie had to smile. "Feeling better with Tony
and Kelly gone?"

Ruth grinned and sat down on Natalie's
battered office sofa. "Gotta say it's a nice change."

"I'm still in shock."

"Maxine told me Scoppio cleaned out his
office in the middle of the night, to make sure nobody would be
around."

"Can't say I blame him. Funny." She shook her
head. "I was just starting to think we could coexist and now he's
gone." She winced, worry clutching in her gut as a horrible new
possibility occurred to her. "And who knows who we'll get next?
Maybe somebody even
worse
than Scoppio."

A new news director who may not like me. It
could happen all over again, just like Geoff said about Tony back
in June. "Tony's new to KXLA and wants to make his mark. And the
easiest way to do that is to change who's on the air ..."

"Pemberley's here on the lot, apparently,"
Ruth went on, pulling Natalie back into the present. "And Elaine
says the station probably will get sued because of Kelly starting
the shootout. By the boy's family. Don't quote me but I say fine.
They deserve whatever they can get and it still won't bring their
kid back." A look of disgust crossed Ruth's face. "And chances are
Kelly'll slime out of criminal charges."

"You're kidding! How?"

"Because there's no proof she willfully
endangered lives. She was negligent, and should've known, but
that's not enough."

"That's a damn shame." Then Natalie narrowed
her eyes at Ruth. "Do you know how that CNN tape got out in the
first place?"

Ruth looked away. "Seems BD got her hands on
it."

"BD? How in the world did she get it?"
Natalie eyed her producer closely. "Ruth? How did she get it?"

Finally Ruth met her eyes, then shrugged.
"The more I thought about it, the more I thought Kelly should be
held responsible. And there was no way in hell Tony would ever let
that tape see the light of day. Then BD and I happened to go out
for drinks, and one topic led to another, and there you go." Ruth
pushed her bifocals up her nose and gave Natalie her own appraising
stare. "By the way, I learned a little something in that
conversation, too."

Now Natalie looked away. "You mean about her
offer."

"So are you planning to take it? Or re-sign
here? In other words, am I going to lose my anchor?"

Natalie rose restlessly from the couch's arm.
"I know my contract expires today. And I know I should already have
decided. But I haven't. And there's the web venture to consider,
too."

"So you need more time to think. Well, say
you'll anchor next week, at least."

"I'd love to."

Ruth nodded and again Natalie felt herself
under the microscope of Ruth's gaze.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Ms. Daniels," Ruth
went on, "but you're mighty dolled up for ten hours before
airtime."

Natalie scoffed. "This old thing?"

"That old thing is an Armani—am I right?"

She was surprised. "Since when can you tell
one designer from another?"

"One of my hidden talents. Along with my
astonishing ability to remember dates and names. And if memory
serves, today that dashing Aussie agent of yours is tying the knot
with the Breck girl."

Natalie was silent.

Ruth persisted. "So the outfit leads me to
believe you're attending the nuptials?"

"I am."

"Well,
this
one'll be worth crying
over. Tell you what. Let's do drinks and dinner after the newscast.
My treat. At Cicada, where they still serve at that hour."

Natalie was touched. "Ruth, you don't want to
eat dinner that late." She paused. Ruth was eyeing her steadily. "I
know what you're doing and I appreciate it. But I'll be fine.
Really."

"I know you will. But
I
want to eat at
Cicada at 11, with or without you. So are you in?"

"Cicada's great." Jerry Cohen strolled into
Natalie's office and halted in front of Ruth. "The lady knows her
restaurants."

"I know their
hours
." Ruth rose from
the couch and extended her hand. "Ruth Sperry."

Jerry grasped her hand. "Jerry Cohen."

Natalie watched the exchange, thinking Jerry
looked more Burl Ives than ever. Hale and prosperous, his closely
cropped beard mostly white, his figure under his navy sport jacket
full but not heavy.

She took the opening to glance at her watch.
11:06. Again she felt a rush of anxiety.

Ruth was being her usual outgoing self.
"Jerry Cohen? As in the renowned sitcom producer?"

He bowed his head, laying a hand over his
polo-shirted chest. "You honor me."

"I
describe
you, from what I hear from
Natalie here."

Jerry didn't even glance at Natalie. "What do
you do here, Ruth?"

"I produce our best news show."

He threw back his head and laughed. "Somehow
that doesn't surprise me. Someday I hope you'll tell me all about
it. I'm sure I'd find it fascinating."

Now neither of them seemed to remember that
Natalie was in the room. She cleared her throat.

Jerry came sufficiently out of his daze to
approach Natalie. "You look fantastic." He kissed her on both
cheeks, European style.

"As do you."

"Excuse me," Ruth interrupted. "Great to meet
you, Jerry, but I have to get back to the salt mines." She exited,
Jerry staring after her retreating back. Then he glanced at the
monitor mounted high on the wall above the door and asked, in a
poor imitation of casual interest, "So is Ruth married, or
otherwise spoken for?"

"No." Natalie laughed. "I take it you're
minus a wife at the moment?"

"Your mother hen is showing, Natalie." He
winked "You can rest assured that both prior specimens have gone
bye-bye."

"The way you say it I guess that's good
news."

"Well, I've gone the starlet route a few
times and am happy to report I'm finally over it. Finally, by age
fifty." He grinned. "So will you put in a good word for me with
Ruth tonight?"

"I'll do you one better. Why don't you stand
in for me at Cicada?" Natalie knew perfectly well she wouldn't feel
like socializing that evening, not even with Ruth.

Jerry grinned, clearly delighted. "I'd love
to, thank you."

Natalie motioned to the couch and they both
sat down. "What can I do for you, Jerry?"

"You can take this." He extracted a
business-size envelope from his inside jacket pocket and held it
out.

"What is it?"

"Open it and you'll see."