On the Edge

by Parker Hudson

  “So you want the Foundation for the Family to censor our show?” Sheila asked in a calm but displeased tone.

  “No,” Tom Morgan interjected. “We want the foundation plus the other two representatives to help you decide what to show. And this is obviously all voluntary. We propose a four-month trial; but you could stop any time, because there won't be a contract or an agreement.”

  “Does the foundation want credit on the show for this input?” Sheila asked.

  “No, just the opposite. That's the last part of what we have to propose,” Richard continued. “Right now the Foundation for the Family and most of the networks do not agree on what is appropriate for television. I have convinced Dr. Morris, the founder of the foundation, that this arrangement could create an opportunity for the foundation and your network to share ideas and value concepts in a real working environment. Who knows where that might lead? You might actually find that you can help each other in many ways, once you start working together.

  “He has agreed and is ready to meet you in this halfway position for the trial period. But he recommends that neither you nor the foundation publicize your working together during this sensitive period. If you both benefit and like what's happening, you can continue it and go public after four months. If it doesn't work, then neither of you has lost much, except a little time and money.”

  “So who would the foundation's editorial panel members be? Would they all be ministers? Do they live anywhere near New York?” Bob asked.

  Tom opened his briefcase and withdrew two typed pages of names and addresses and passed them across the table to Bob. “Here is a list of people we recommend. As you will see, most are business people. Some have backgrounds in broadcasting. Only two are ordained ministers. All of them live in the New York metropolitan area. And none of them works for the foundation.”

  Looking down the list, Bob was impressed. He recognized several of the names. “You've done your homework,” he said, passing the list to Mark and Sheila.

  “We know that for you to agree with us, we can't just threaten, we have to bring value to the table,” Richard said. “All of those people can help enhance your show, and/or Network, as well as help accomplish our goal of limiting the crime and violence on television in our homes. There's a remote possibility that this situation could turn from confrontation to win/win, to use the current buzzwords,” Richard finished with a smile.

  “And just so we know, Mr. Sullivan,” Sheila asked, “what is the threat part of your message today?”

  “Fifty nearly identical but locally tailored obscenity lawsuits in fifty cities. And a suit seeking a federal injunction with the FCC. All of these are in the late drafting stages and can be filed in a few days. And a license battle next year when you seek renewal,” Richard replied.

  “I see. So you are serious.”

  Both Richard and Tom nodded.

  “If we agreed to this, how soon could these people be ready to join us for training?” Mark asked.

  “We still haven't contacted all of them. And you will probably want to narrow down to a working pool of seven to ten so that a manageable group will be available every Friday. But the ones to whom we have already spoken are ready to begin. Many are recently retired and are frankly looking for something to do. And the Emergency Personnel Association has a large chapter here. The senior staff is ready to join us.”

  “Well, whatever else,” Bob said, “let me thank you for putting together a proposal that is at least balanced. The three of us don't make decisions like this by ourselves, but our voices obviously carry a lot of weight. Do you have a written summary of your proposal?”

  Tom handed Bob a letter from Dr. Morris, with an attachment containing the points they had discussed.

  “Thank you. This may seem a little odd, but why don't you let us talk here. You can go next door and make calls or watch any of eighty channels, and we'll see if we have any additional questions before you leave.”

  Richard and Tom agreed and each man found a phone in the vacant conference room across the hall. Twenty minutes later Bob came across and asked them to return to his office, which they did.

  Sitting down again, Bob said, “As strange as this may sound, we basically like your ideas. In fact, we think maybe the broadcast delay should be twelve to fifteen minutes, but we'll think more about it. We've got to check with a larger group here, but I think we may all be able to work together, pretty much as you have proposed.”

  “That's great,” Richard beamed, looking around the room and saving an extra smile for Tom. Even Mark was smiling, as best he could. Richard continued, “We want to keep it as low key and as ‘unlegal’ as possible. Bob, the foundation has talented broadcast people, as you know. Dr. Morris can assign two or three of them to a team, and they will fly here for a week or ten days to help get the initial process rolling with you, once you say ‘go.’ How does that sound?”

  “Fine. We'll touch bases here on our end, and I should be able to call you no later than Monday afternoon. Thanks a lot.”

  Rising and shaking hands, Richard said, “Thank you…and now Tom and I can catch earlier flights, before the weekend rush.”

  Back in the Executive Club at the airport, where the staff was reworking their tickets, Richard asked Tom the question that had been on their minds since the meeting: “Can you believe that they accepted our offer? Just like that? God is so incredible! I figured we would be battling until late in the afternoon and maybe filing lawsuits on Monday. It just shows you that nothing is impossible if God is involved.”

  “I know, Richard. It was great. And you were wonderful with your presentation. You never became argumentative, but you spoke with conviction. A great job!” Tom complimented his new friend.

  “Thanks, Tom. You did very well too. And thanks to whoever put together that list of names.”

  “Dr. Morris did it himself. He handpicked each person.”

  “Well, I hope they officially accept. And then I hope it works—for many reasons. Not the least of which is my wife's job!”

  Tom's flight was called, and the two attorneys shook hands and promised to talk on Monday. Then Richard went to a phone and called Vermont. Janet was in her parents’ home, having a late lunch. “You won't believe it, dear, but I think they're going to accept our proposal.”

  “Oh, Richard, that's great! I bet you did a super job. You're so close there in New York—why don't you run up?” she laughed.

  “Too much to do, but I'll be there next week. They're calling my plane. I'll call you again tonight or tomorrow. But let's quickly pray.” And for the second time in his life, Richard prayed on the telephone, thanking God for His blessings.

  Kristen wasn't sure herself exactly what she wanted to happen, but she knew she wanted to see Richard. She still missed the time they had spent together, and she at least wanted to spend a few hours talking with him.

  When she called his office that Friday afternoon, the receptionist said that Richard was still out of town, but offered her the option of leaving a message for him on their new voice mail system. She accepted. After the taped introduction, she said, “Richard, this is me. If you get back in time today, let's get together tonight. I want to talk about us.”

  Flying back by himself on the plane, Richard was very happy. Although he knew that there was not yet a final agreement to work together, he believed that Bob Grissom understood the advantages of doing so and would follow through positively.

  Richard again said a prayer of thanks to God for His action. In Richard's mind, the results from their meeting had truly been a miracle, better than he ever could have imagined. He knew that God had prepared the way and been present with them.

  But Richard also had to admit that his years of training and preparation had served him well for doing the Lord's work. He recognized that he had put together a pretty strong combination of carrot and stick to get Network's attention. And his negotiating skills had come in handy. As a new Christian, Richard was thrilled t
hat he had apparently won the first battle God had given him. He hoped there would be more! He was ready to help God whenever God needed his help! And, not realizing it, with his excitement and understandable thoughts about his own important role, Richard was cocking the hammer of his sexual ego, which had been so well primed at the Platinum Club only two nights before.

  Nepravel arrived at the office before Richard did, late that afternoon. He had one piece of quick business to do. Although it only took an instant, his action was the first time in many years that he had been authorized to physically change something outside of a human body. He stopped by the firm's voice mail computer and changed one word on Kristen's message to Richard.

  Even though he was driving from the airport against the traffic, Richard did not make it back to his office until almost 5:30. He decided on the way in, despite his excitement, that it would be best if he didn't go over to Kristen's apartment. It just wouldn't be right. From his earphone he called Bob Meredith's home, but his call was answered by a tape machine. He left a message, asking whether Bob and Anne would like to join him on short notice for dinner. Then he called Tom Spence and gave him a report on their meeting in New York. Tom was obviously pleased, and Richard promised to give him a full report as soon as he heard again from Bob Grissom. He arrived at his office before he had time to call Kristen.

  Mary had waited for him and handed him a stack of messages. She reminded him that there were also some messages on their new voice mail system. He briefly told her about their meeting and then sent her home to her family.

  Standing beside his desk, flipping through his messages, he touched the buttons on his phone to activate the voice mail playback. After five messages on legal cases, he heard, “Richard, this is me. If you get back in time today, let's get together tonight. I want to talk about God.”

  He played Kristen's message back again. He felt a rush. Kristen was reaching out, and he was the right person to lead her to the Lord. Given their earlier relationship and the important work which God already had him doing, there was no question that he was meant to help her find salvation.

  He called her apartment but again hit a tape machine. “Hi, Kristen. I got your message, and I'll be over. Probably about 7:30. See you then.”

  One more call. He hoped that the Merediths would be home. But no luck. Yet another taped answer. So he left a second message on their machine: “Since I called you earlier, Kristen has called and said she wants to talk about God. Isn't that great? So I'm going over there tonight and won't be able to get together with you. I need some suggestions, by the way, on books or literature to give to people who are interested in the Lord, like Kristen. Call me at home if you get in this afternoon, or I'll see you at church on Sunday. Have a great weekend.”

  It never failed to amaze Richard how the world had functioned only a few years before without tape machines, voice mail, and fax machines. Well, he had left enough messages for one day; it had been a very good day, and the rest could wait. He went home to shower and to change before driving over to Kristen's apartment.

  Kristen arrived home from an appointment and was very pleased to find Richard's message on her machine. She immediately started her bath water, and she put two bottles of wine in the refrigerator. Before leaving the kitchen she put two steaks in the microwave to defrost and two potatoes in the oven.

  Unseen by her, a stormcloud of darkness was descending on her apartment. Besides Torgo, Zoldar had already arrived. Nepravel was with Richard, making certain that Richard heard how important he was and regularly flashing visual images from the Platinum Club and from his past experiences with Kristen, just to set the stage in his mind. And while Richard shaved and splashed on his best aftershave, he told himself, “I have a chance to save Kristen tonight!”

  Right at 7:30, Bart, the doorman, rang up on the intercom that Mr. Sullivan was on the way up. Kristen made a last pass at her hair in the mirror and smiled. She switched off the ringer on her telephone so that the machine in her bedroom would answer without disturbing them. She was very happy. The doorbell rang, and she opened the door. Zoldar and Torgo were ready on her side of the door, Nepravel on the other.

  Richard was struck immediately by how good Kristen looked, in her low-cut dark green dress which accentuated her auburn hair and her…freckles. Oh, all those freckles! How Richard suddenly remembered all those wonderful freckles, in an explosive visual image from six months earlier. He smiled and stared. She did the same. “Come in,” she finally laughed, breaking the electricity of the moment. He felt his mind starting to grow fuzzy, even before he spoke a single word. “What's happening?” a tiny voice was able to ask, before it was completely drowned out by a flood of rationalizations.

  “Hi,” he managed to say, as he walked in. “How are you?”

  “I'm fine. It was a rough day, but I might have sold one home this afternoon. How about you? Did your meeting go well? Would you like some wine?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure, that would be fine. And today went great.” As Kristen walked to the kitchen, he followed behind her, smelling her perfume. “The meeting we had in New York went incredibly well.” And Richard began describing to Kristen the history of “911 Live” as they moved back into her living room and sat on the sofa with their wine glasses. He then moved on to share the intimate details of the meeting, which he had not yet done with Janet, telling Kristen how God had definitely intervened for them that day. As he retold the story, his natural joy spilled over into his ego: They had done great work for the Lord that day!

  Kristen listened attentively for almost twenty minutes, sipping her wine, her feet tucked up under her, sitting only a few inches from Richard. She smiled at the appropriate times and let him know how impressed she was as his story unfolded.

  While Richard was talking, he sipped his wine, but he drank deeply from Kristen's whole presence, her knees almost touching him, her smile so close, her breasts…He had all night, a voice told him. Janet was far away. He shook the voices off.

  “But that's enough about me and my day,” he smiled. “I got your message that you want us to talk about God.”

  “You did? I'm happy to talk about God, but that's not the message I left on your voice mail. I said that I wanted to talk about us.”

  “Oh,” Richard said, not imagining that they were both right. He was at a loss for words since that was the reason he had come.

  “Your new voice mail must not be real clear,” Kristen offered, leaning forward and taking his glass, then walking to the kitchen to refill it. “I've thawed two steaks,” she said as she poured the wine. “We can start them anytime.”

  As she sat down again on the sofa, even closer, crossing her legs, she noticed that Richard had a faraway look, like his eyes were glazed over. “Are you OK?” she smiled.

  “Me? Oh, yeah, fine.” But he had been listening to a voice which reminded him that they were not exactly virgins together. If he slept with her tonight, it wouldn't be that big a deal, because they had already done it so many times before. It was just sort of a repeat. And Janet had said she didn't want to know. And she was so far away…And Kristen looked so good…

  They talked for another twenty minutes, sitting next to each other. Richard watched the rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took. She laughed once and brushed her hair back with her hand. Richard didn't say much, but he eventually heard a low roar in his ears, and he felt even more lightheaded.

  Kristen had been talking about them, and she came to her conclusion. “What should I do, Richard? Should I pine away until I'm old and gray,” she smiled, “hoping that someday you'll be mine? Should I move out of town? Should I join a convent? What do you recommend for someone who still loves you so much?”

  The voices and the images were screaming inside Richard. If he had been rational, he would have said that he loved his wife very much, that he did not want to commit adultery, that he would never imagine to hurt her or to sin against God…but it was almost impossible for him to be ration
al. This was not a thought-out affair, like earlier. This was just plain passion, simple lust. He was alone with a beautiful woman whom he had already slept with, she still wanted him, his wife was far away, and this day he had already proved himself to be invincible. It was a loaded gun, primed and cocked. And now the demons were adding the images and the voices to trigger the explosion.

  “Go ahead. No one will ever know. Look at her. Remember how good she is? Go ahead. It's no big deal. You've already done it with her…”

  To answer her question, Richard put his glass down on the coffee table, in slow motion, as if he were watching himself do it, then leaned across and took her in his arms, and without saying a word, he kissed her. She kissed him back, opening her mouth and putting her arms around his neck. She murmured and leaned back, bringing him with her. Richard could feel the electric reaction in both of them as he lay on top of her. He moved to kiss her neck.

  “Ms. Holloway,” the doorman called over the intercom, “is it OK if some folks named Meredith come up?”

  Richard flinched, as if he were physically pulled back by the scruff of his neck. His heart raced. It was as if scales were suddenly taken from his eyes and he could see. Although the three demons in the room, bent on his destruction, were, of course, not visible to him, he instantly and for the first time in his life felt their presence, as if they were lying on his back, which Nepravel was. He jumped again and felt an icy chill.