They should not be allowed to get away with this.
'You're under contract, aren't you? There must be a mistake,' Rosie said, now in assertive mode. 'Surely you have some rights? This can't happen in this day and age. Can I talk to the head of human relations for you? She seems a great woman. Very professional.'
'Nah, Rosie, but thanks. Basically I'm stuffed. I was only on a year's trial and all they're doing is not extending my contract for another term, which legally they can do.'
Rosie wracked her brain for something she could do or say. 'Have you spoken to Bettina Arthur? She's got direct access to head office. She's a hard one to crack but at least she's a woman. I mean, she was enraged by the treatment Alicia Charles received.'
Karen looked at Rosie with pity. 'You don't know, do you?'
'About what? I've been in Adelaide until this afternoon.'
'Bettina Arthur was moved to the Singapore office. That other guy, her big boss – what's his name?'
'Adam Short?'
'Yeah, well now he's running the show.'
'And Bettina?'
'Seems the boys didn't like her. They convinced head office and Keith she wasn't up to the job, apparently.'
'Holy hell. I don't know what to say any more.'
'Yeah, I can see,' Karen said fondly, rising to leave. 'Not such a good situation considering you're the network's mouthpiece.'
'You're not wrong there,' Rosie replied, and hugged the reporter as hard as she could. 'You'll survive this, Karen, believe me. You're a great journo and a damn fine woman.'
'Yeah, well, you're not too bad yourself. See you around, Rosie, and thanks for being a sister.'
'Oh, Karen, I'm so sorry.'
'Yeah, so am I. But, hey, before I go, will you make my day?'
'Anything!'
'Tell me the truth, did you really bonk the guy from the Sentinel in the lift?'
Rosie didn't get a chance to lodge a vehement denial. Lisa was back. And beside her was the celebrated host of Great Gardens, Peter Ingles, OBE. Only he looked like ET.
CHAPTER 34
Rosie had never been happier to see the back of a head. Stepping into the boardroom, it was all she could do to stop herself running and cuddling Keith when she heard that unmistakable 'rrrrraaaaaaark' of his, followed by the predictable gurgle of the boys' club.
'Keith,' she yelled despite herself. 'God, it's good to see you here!'
All heads turned, including Keith's, a look of delight flashing across his face before quickly changing to obvious guilt. As she entered the room, Rosie realised why. Half-empty coffee cups and plates of biscuit crumbs were strewn on the table's surface. Each man had a manila folder in front of him, some with the pages still open. This meeting, she deduced, had been going for some time already.
Rosie turned back to Keith and looked at his frail face. He couldn't make eye contact with her. 'Good to see you so well,' she said, hoping he'd return her gaze.
'It's the drugs I'm taking,' Keith replied, addressing the room in general. 'Steroids. Supposed to make your cock soft but done the opposite for me. Can't roll over in bed at night! Raark.'
Guffaws too loud to be sincere followed from the boys' chorus. Rosie realised this was not going to be a meeting with the Keith she had visited at home. Big Keith Norman of legend was back and once again running the room.
Looking towards the end of the table, Rosie noted Alicia Charles' absence. In her usual place was a young man who also had a manila folder and was interacting easily with the other men. Rosie could sense this man was already inner circle, and wondered when and how he'd become one of the anointed.
'So, Keith, mate, we should get to the promo tape.' It was Johnno Johnston – speaking up out of turn, from the look on Simon Nash's pink-flushed face.
'Just hang on to your fucking bra-strap, Johnno,' Keith replied dismissively. 'Don't you want to know what really happened last night?'
All faces turned to Rosie, who felt like she was shrinking in their shadow.
'Mate, I already know,' Simon Nash interjected cockily, gleeful to have some gossip to impart to Keith. 'It was actually nothing. Leach passed out on her!'
Rosie was stunned. How did Simon know Greg had passed out? She was the only person other than Greg to know that. Suddenly it hit her. The Darkness was the Sentinel leak. He had to be! How else could he have spoken to Greg this morning when even Rosie's calls to him went unanswered? The very man who had convinced Keith to throw her out of the programming meetings on the suspicion that she was the one talking to the enemy! The same Simon Nash who knew the Sentinel was all over the Klaus Heinrich story when Rosie didn't. Rosie took a deep breath. No use panicking. She would have to wait for an appropriate time to reveal this information. Instead, she should just disengage, stay calm and try to enjoy the show, she told herself. Let the light shine in.
'What a fucking girl!' Keith was bellowing. 'Fucking journos boast how they can hold their booze. They know nothing about television! Raaaaark.'
Once again the boys laughed too early and too loudly, but Rosie merely looked passively on.
Johnno Johnston spoke next: 'Look, as good as it is to see you, Keith, Nathan here only has an hour and he's here to see the promo – as well as meeting you, of course!'
'Yeah, all right then,' Keith grumbled, casting a glance at the young man Rosie still hadn't been introduced to. She contemplated making the first move and introducing herself, then decided it was too hard. No good could come of putting her head out in kicking range. Just stay with the light and enjoy the show.
Johnno gestured to Simon to stand, and he bounced up so readily Rosie was sure he must have been on his toes in anticipation.
'Just a bit of background, if I may,' Simon said, actually bowing towards Keith. 'As you know we've had to change the promo at the last moment after that little hiccup we had with Alicia Charles.'
As everyone in the room nodded in acknowledgement of the so-called hiccup, Rosie wondered just what version they'd have heard now that Bettina Arthur was in Singapore and out of sight. Something told her things had been turned around in editing, as they so often are in the TV game.
'We're still casting Hotel – that's the new name for the drama, by the way, although if everyone could refer to it as Project X in emails for the time being it would be appreciated. Anyway, as casting is still underway we had to think fast. Johnno agreed with me that by focusing on any specific new shows we might just confuse the audience, so we thought it best to use the tried and tested approach, showcasing the network's star-power. Basically, we just stopped and asked, "What would Keith do?" '
Rosie looked on in admiration. Nash was an operator and a half. How could Keith go against his idea now, when he'd just been told it was his own? And how could she, given that the proposed title – Hotel – was the one she'd written on the notes she gave Nash after the disastrous Alicia 'hiccup'? Keith was smiling broadly, though his once full cheeks now sagged with dark creases.
'Anyway, summer is coming and everyone wants to head to the beach . . .' Simon continued.
'Something tells me I'm going to see some tits!' Keith bellowed, followed by a hearty raark. Again there were compulsory titters from the others. Rosie pondered if Keith's cup really did contain coffee. He was in full roar. Perhaps he was also in his cups?
'Well, actually, you just might,' Nash replied, chortling. 'Johnno and I did have a bit of a say in the casting.'
'Raaaaark! I bet you fucking did!' Keith yelled. Rosie wondered if he was going deaf or if he always spoke this loudly and she'd never noticed before.
'I know you would have had an easy time with that, mate,' Keith roared at Johnno, his obvious wink impossible to ignore.
Johnno beamed, his naughty boy charm turned up to ten. 'Now, Keith, you know I'd never kiss and tell,' he replied, casting a glance in Rosie's direction.
Rosie suddenly realised that Johnno Johnston not only remembered last night's come-on but may well have embellished it in the telling.
She wouldn't put it past Johnno to have informed the men that she'd made a pass at him. He certainly wasn't acting like a man who had been rejected. Oh well. There was nothing she could do without getting upset. It was all water under the bridge now. Or soon would be.
'Anyway,' Simon Nash cut in, turning the attention back to the promo and, as such, himself. 'We filmed it over two days at Palm Beach and came in under budget. We got that guy who won the last Australian Idol to write a theme song. Whatsisname? I don't know, Kent something . . .' Simon looked to Johnno, who shrugged his shoulders. 'Anyway, the shirt-lifter cost us a fortune, so you'd better like it.'
'Just play the fucking thing, will you?' Keith yelled, throwing a biscuit at Nash's head. It splintered, spraying crumbs on his immaculate suit. Nash tried to act like it didn't matter but Rosie knew it must hurt. The man spent a fortune on clothes.
'Okay, okay,' Nash begged, putting on a ham performance of Keith beating him down.
He ran to the main light switch, turned the dimmer to low and watched the large screen crackle with colour. After a ten-second countdown, it was filled with a yoke yellow, panning out to reveal an actual buttercup. The music started up, and Rosie took in the lyrics:
'It's a shiny happy day . . .'
'You like the words?' Simon piped up over the noise. 'We basically took that famous REM song – they're a popular music group, Keith – and turned the lyrics around so we wouldn't have to pay them a cent!' Simon looked so pleased with himself it was as if he was about to burst into song at any moment too. So, Rosie realised, she was about to endure her most despised REM song, the annoyingly repetitive and inane 'Shiny Happy People', only in reverse. This would be interesting.
The camera pulled away from the buttercup, moving so far up that it was clearly an aerial shot. A green cliff top dotted with colour revealed itself, expanding to include a stretch of sand and surf. And zoom, the camera swept in again, this time right to the sandy edge, where two wriggling dots turned into the hosts of G'day Australia, building a sandcastle. One threw a handful of sand, which led to a mock fight. The female presenter, Shirley Waby, stood up to escape the blows, exposing a wobbling midriff. Then the two of them turned to the overhead camera and jumped up and down like hyperactive meerkats.
Shirley will die if that ever makes it to air, Rosie thought to herself, but she refused to care. There was no use. She knew that now.
The camera moved again, this time to green grass, and Crystelle Callaghan lying on a colourful banana lounge. Rosie had to stop herself from wolf-whistling and applauding her friend, but her pleasure turned to horror as the shot closed in and Crystelle stood up to reveal she was dressed in an undignified and too-short grass skirt. Rosie felt the urge to protest but breathed hard instead.
She was feeling giddy by the next camera shot, which homed in on Little Kids School hosts, the lovely twin sisters Annabel and Sarah. Rosie was not surprised to see the girls had been decked out in denim shorts and T-shirts, and were drenching each other with a garden hose.
'Whoooaaar, I wouldn't mind them teaching me the AB fucking C,' Keith growled, drowning out the happy and shiny song for a merciful second.
Simon nudged Johnno in the ribs, as if to say 'fess up'.
'You lucky bastard,' Keith said proudly, knowing what must have occurred. 'When did you sneak the twins in?'
'Well, you haven't been in for a while,' Johnno said confidently, then looked slightly awkward when his eyes met Rosie's.
This time the entire table laughed – even Jason Jarvis, who had probably missed the joke altogether, given that he'd just slunk in late, Rosie noticed.
'Fuck me, you're good! What about her?' Keith asked, now pointing at a pretty young gardener on screen kneeling forward to feign digging a hole.
Everyone looked at Johnno, who burst into laughter. 'Let's just say that's a view I remember well,' he said, nodding his head as the woman's upturned rear filled the screen.
Rosie knew this was where she would normally stand up and say something, getting herself all revved up for nothing other than another round of abuse. Instead, she stayed where she was and smiled peacefully. She would not waste energy on these men any more. Instead, it was all going to go to her boy, the one man in her life who deserved it – and Daniel. Wonderful darling Daniel. Justice would come soon enough to these men. Mother Karma would take care of them all in her own time.
The clip continued to the end, having run through every corny beach set-up imaginable, from kicking at waves to skimming stones and even strolling arm in arm with a parasol. Rosie thought it was possibly the tritest piece of fourth-rate porn she'd ever seen, and the network stars were its badly lit, scantily clad hos and pimps. She imagined for a moment the press's reaction, but refused to give it any further thought.
Applause all round greeted the clip. Rosie even found herself thoughtlessly clapping along. It wasn't her problem. There was nothing she could do now anyway.
'Great work, boys,' Keith yelled as the lights came on. 'I love it. We might need to cut to some of Alicia's cast from what was it . . .'
'Hotel,' Simon Nash responded.
'Yeah, Hotel, I like it. Anyway, we might need some sheilas from it in there too. Get the two best sorts from the show?'
Rosie tried and failed to stop herself grinning at the thought of the butch woman she had seen in the showreel, wearing hot pants, holding a balloon and skipping along to 'Happy, Shiny Day'.
As Alicia was conspicuously absent, Nash took it upon himself to answer. 'I'm working on casting right now, Keith. Don't worry, I know what you want. I just need to tinker with some contract issues Alicia has forced on us.'
Forced on us? Rosie thought. Boy, have things changed around here. When last she looked, it was Alicia had been wrongly done by.
Keith turned to Rosie and snapped: 'Who do you plan to have work with you on Hotel publicity-wise, Rosie?'
Rosie was taken aback. Keith had almost barked at her.
'Well, Keith, I'm a little short-staffed at the moment . . .'
'What about that good sort you've got working with you. Name like that poncy hairdresser's car. What is the—'
'You mean Portia?'
'Yeah, that's it. What's happened to her?'
Rosie was in a numb daze, searching her brain for an answer, when she heard a male voice whisper from across the table, 'Had her.'
Rosie swung to face Johnno Johnston, as did the rest of the room. There on his handsome dial was that shit-eating grin again. Rosie felt everything click into place. Portia was about to be sacked because she'd slept with Johnno. That's why Portia had been coming in early for breakfast with the boys. She was travelling into work with Johnno. Obviously, he'd ended things. They wanted Rosie to fire her to save Johnno any uncomfortable moments while he homed in on a new target.
Unbelievable! No, actually – so believable!
'Fuck me, mate!' Keith roared, tipping back in his chair slightly, causing Rosie to flash back to that incident in his office where she thought he was about to snuff it.
Oh well, if he falls he falls.
'We should just ask you who you haven't fucked around here and make things easier!' Keith laughed, slapping the desk like a seal with emphysema at Johnno's indiscretion. 'Nice to see the girls are copping a bit of sperm for the firm.'
The Boys' Club Page 28