by K. N. Casper
“Oh? Been reviewing the uncut version, have you?” He propped himself up again, a lecherous grin on his face. “You’re full of surprises, babe. I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing. You should have said something earlier. I have a few feature-length specials tucked away we could really get off on.”
Her jaw tightened. She hadn’t been a babe in a long, long time and didn’t like being reminded of it. “I’m not interested.”
“No?” He tilted his head to one side. “Pity. Maybe another time, when you’re in a better mood. There are some interesting positions—”
“No,” she shouted.
“Okay.” He held up a hand. “Okay. But that still doesn’t answer my question. What’s taking so long? That fiasco with her tapes being shown out of sequence should have been enough to get her fired on the spot.”
“Your little subterfuge backfired.” Faye turned her head toward him. “Renn did a focus group and they liked her. They didn’t have nearly as many nice things to say about you.”
He shot up. “What do you mean?”
“They said your show is all about you, not about sports. You cover the same stuff all the time, football mostly, even when it’s out of season, men’s sports, and your predictions are too…predictable.” She leveled her eyes on him. “You’re going to have to do something fresh if you want to compete. Otherwise I won’t have much choice but to give the job to Marlee.”
His jaw dropped for a second before he caught himself and hardened his attitude. “You’d do that?”
“I have my own position to consider, Tag. I don’t think you want to support me in my old age.” Damn, she wished she hadn’t brought up the subject of age.
“I can be a patient man, Faye. You know that.” Taggart ran his hand delicately across her abdomen. “But my tolerance won’t last forever.”
“Don’t threaten me,” she growled. “It won’t work. Either you let me do things my way, or they don’t get done at all. You got that?”
He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You want to be in charge.” His eyes twinkled. “Hey, that’s okay with me.” He spread his arms. “I’m all yours. Do with me what you want. I’m your love slave.”
She wanted to call him a jerk, to climb off the bed and walk away. She should have, but she didn’t. Instead, she scrutinized his rising passion and decided she wanted another sample of it. As she reached her hand forward, a plan was beginning to form in her mind.
Tuesday, May 6
MARLEE WAS WORRIED. She was feeling too good, too euphoric. Renn wasn’t the only man she’d made love with since her divorce four years ago, but he was one of the few, and lovemaking—even with her husband—had never been anything like what she’d experienced with Renn. Lying in his arms, sheltered by his warmth and strength, feeling him touch her, become a part of her, was an experience beyond anything she’d ever imagined. Making love with Renn had her breathless and craving for more.
It also left her edgy, self-conscious and unsure of her bearings. Would her co-workers notice a difference in her? Would they laugh behind her back?
She made a huge batch of oatmeal pecan cookies, calculating that snickering with a mouth full of cookie crumbs would be difficult.
Renn wasn’t around when she arrived at the station at two o’clock. Just as well. Facing him in the presence of other people wouldn’t be easy. She half expected to find a note from him on her desk, but that would have been out of character, and he was wise not to draw attention to their relationship. Still, she was having a hard time concentrating on her work—until an hour later when she received a call from Maxine to appear in Vice President Warren’s office at three o’clock for an interview for the sports director position.
Why would Faye want to interview her? What could she possibly need to know that she didn’t already? Maybe it wasn’t really an interview at all but notice that they were letting her go. Son of a bitch. They’d manipulated her into a pay cut and a smaller severance package, and now they were going to can her. She muttered a series of unholy words.
Her first impulse was to find Renn. He’d know what was going on.
“Have you seen Renn?” she asked his secretary, trying to hide the desperation clutching her insides.
“He’s with Faye and the GM,” Trish said. “Heard you’re supposed to meet some sort of a board. I sure hope you get the job. We’re all keeping our fingers crossed for you.”
Board? The note said an interview, not a board. Who would be there? It didn’t take a board to give her notice. Maybe she wasn’t being fired after all. Despair turned to hope, then plummeted again.
Why such short notice? Her hair was a mess. The yellow pantsuit she’d put on this morning wasn’t the most appropriate outfit for a job interview, though it was one of her favorites. The sunshine-bright color made her feel happy and energetic. At the moment, however, she felt only confused and indecisive.
What kind of questions would they ask? She looked at the clock on the wall. Less than forty minutes to prepare. But how? If only Renn were here to bounce questions off, to give her guidance.
She returned to her cubicle and tried to organize her thoughts. A waste of time. She was a bundle of nerves, a complex of jitters. Okay, if she couldn’t quite anticipate the questions—how could they be much different from the ones she’d already answered?—she could at least get her galloping emotions under control. Maybe she should have taken up yoga when her roommate in college had urged her to. Deep breathing exercises. She’d slow her heartbeat that way. She sat in her chair, her back straight, and let her hands dangle over the armrests. She inhaled clear down to her diaphragm and released the air slowly. It didn’t do a damn bit of good. She jumped up from the seat and whirled in the narrow space.
Wayne Prentice stuck his head around the corner. “You want the Rangers highlights for five o’clock?”
His gaze was focused somewhere behind her. Wayne avoided eye contact as much as possible since the tape snafu. He’d come to Marlee the following Monday morning, head bowed, and apologized.
“Accepted,” she’d said, and walked away. She didn’t even ask him why he’d done it or try to confirm that Taggart had put him up to it. Since then their verbal exchanges had been civil but limited exclusively to business, the easy rapport they’d once enjoyed banished. She missed the sense of teamwork and the spirit of friendship that had characterized their former relationship. She didn’t doubt the sincerity of his apology; she even felt sorry for him.
“The Rangers. Right,” she concurred.
He started to leave. She called him back. “How long is the cut?”
“One minute fifteen.”
“You still have the midget soccer footage we took Thursday?”
“Sure.”
“Give me thirty seconds of them tangling and kicking a goal, cut the Rangers to forty-five and I’ll show the midgets at the end.”
“Okay. I…uh…I’ll do my best,” he mumbled, and disappeared around the partition.
The words echoed in her ears. That was all she could do, too. Her best. Just like Clark. She sat again at her desk, folded her hands in front of her and considered the interview looming before her. If her best wasn’t good enough, she’d move on. To where? She’d figure that out when the time came.
RENN WAS FURIOUS. Ever since the problems with tapes getting mangled or mixed up, he’d been showing up later in the day so he could be on hand for the five o’clock broadcast. This morning he’d decided to come in at eight to catch up on paperwork.
Faye arrived at nine, her usual time, but it wasn’t until nearly two o’clock that she’d called Renn to her office. She wanted to convene a special board to interview the two candidates for the anchor job and make a decision today. She’d already coordinated it on the phone with Sal Bufano. What had Renn so uptight was the hunch that this was a setup. He wasn’t sure how, but he was certain Faye had a trick up her sleeve.
Sal arrived a few minutes later, and the three of them spent the next ha
lf hour discussing what they were going to ask. The questions were innocuous enough—a review of histories and achievements. There could hardly be anything they didn’t already know. On that basis alone, Marlee should be a shoo-in.
The second part of the grilling would focus on plans for the future. Renn didn’t foresee much potential for surprises. KNCS was a small market in a relatively remote part of a big state. Its potential for growth was limited by population and geography. In this arena, Marlee also had an advantage since she was popular in her hometown and knew the inner workings of the station far more intimately that Taggart.
Still, Renn was apprehensive.
He would have liked to coach Marlee, but Faye had been crafty in springing this gambit on short notice, which was another reason he was suspicious. Since the questions were predictable enough, he wondered if she and Taggart had spent the weekend rehearsing his answers. Probably.
He had only a few minutes to pop down to his office and check messages before the interview. He hoped to get a chance to give Marlee an encouraging word, but she was in one of the sound booths, scrambling no doubt to get her five o’clock broadcast ready, and he didn’t want to interrupt.
He returned several telephone calls, and before he knew it, had to rush back upstairs. Sal was sipping a fresh cup of coffee, oblivious, it seemed to Renn, to the charade he was about to take part in.
“I’ve asked Marlee to come in first,” Faye announced as she motioned the two men to seats on one side of the long table in the conference room. Yellow legal tablets and sharpened pencils had been placed in front of each of them.
Faye pressed the button of the intercom, asked her secretary to send Marlee in and took her place beside her boss.
Marlee stepped into the room, scanned the arrangement and accepted the single armchair in front of the table. Renn felt as if he were part of a tribunal, an inquisitor instead of an interviewer. He smiled, hoping to reassure her. The nod he received in return was quizzical but not as nervous as he’d anticipated. He wasn’t quite sure if she was confident that she’d come out ahead or resigned to the possibility that she wouldn’t.
Though Sal held the center chair, Faye was plainly in charge.
“We are familiar with your background, Marlee, but I’d like you to tell us about yourself, about what you’ve accomplished and what you feel most proud of.”
Marlee didn’t speak right away. She didn’t fumble over words or ramble on about herself. She’d gained considerable poise, Renn realized, in the few short months since Clark’s death. Her self-confidence was more authentic now, her ability to cope with adversity more mature.
She began slowly, thoughtfully, reminded them she’d received her bachelor of science degree in broadcast journalism at TUCS, specializing in sports and entertainment, and that her mentor during the past two years had been Clark Van Pelt, the Voice of Coyote Springs. She accounted for her first job in Austin as a producer and outlined what she learned there about writing and editing stories.
“I’ve never missed a deadline,” she said. “Even under the most trying circumstances I’ve come through with carefully balanced, well-written stories.”
She reviewed the type of coverage she’d developed at KNCS, generously giving credit to Clark for its high quality. “One of the things I’m most proud of,” she added, “is the bond I’ve developed with the community and the support I’ve been able to give back. I’ve participated in fund-raisers for Alegre and the rehab center, been a guest speaker at charity luncheons and dinners, and I’ve worked with kids to improve their lives. I’m proud of these contributions to my hometown.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Renn saw Sal nod, while Faye remained stoically indifferent.
“Your conduct at the end of the Coyote Springs-San Angelo game was an embarrassment to this station,” she said. “It violated conference rules and jeopardized our credentials. It also held us up to public ridicule. How do you respond to that?”
In measured words and phrases, Marlee acknowledged her error in judgment.
“I regret the jeopardy it put us in, and I’ve apologized to Coach Dreyfus for upsetting him,” she said. “But I believe the incident had a positive overall effect. We garnered our highest ratings since Clark’s death, and it’s at least partially responsible for our continued high numbers. I can assure you, though, that barging into men’s locker rooms is not something I plan to do again.” She smiled faintly. “The shock value served its purpose. It got people’s attention. But I intend to be more discreet in the future. The episode proves, however, that I’m not afraid to take chances, to be bold and aggressive—” she glanced at Renn “—in my pursuit of a good story.”
She made brief eye contact with the other two people.
“You asked what I’m most proud of. My interview with Coach Hillman. I was able to get him to recount how his friend of twenty-five years died tragically but heroically only a few feet from where he was standing. I feel I handled a deeply emotional situation professionally and sympathetically. Our viewers’ comments substantiate that claim.”
Sal was somber.
Faye appeared to be unmoved. “If you were to get the sports director position, Marlee, how would you handle it. Specifically, what changes would you initiate?”
Again, Marlee didn’t rush to answer. She pursed her lips and considered the question before responding.
“KNCS is a well-run operation,” she said, “appropriately positioned for this market. Clark Van Pelt was a very experienced professional who knew his audience. Like him, I would place emphasis on local rather than national sports, which are amply covered in network programming and ESPN. I’d maintain viewer loyalty and growth by giving people a chance to see their friends, neighbors, children and grandchildren on the air, rather than celebrities they’ve only heard about. That, I’m convinced, is the key to keeping them tuned in and the best way for us to earn higher advertising revenues.”
Faye thanked and dismissed her.
“I like her,” Sal said, as soon as the door was closed. “She’s honest and forthright and gives a wholesome impression.”
“Let’s keep an open mind,” Faye murmured. “We still have another candidate to interview.”
She pressed the button on the intercom, signaling her secretary to call downstairs for Mr. Taggart.
While the three executives waited, Sal prompted Renn about his weekend. “Did you get in any sailing? The weather was perfect for it.”
Sal owned a second house on the north bend of Big Coyote Lake. His teenage sons each had jet skis, which they used when they weren’t hot-rodding in their late-model sports cars. Sal was an indulgent father, though Renn had to admit after meeting the boys, they were well-mannered and respectful, as well as straight-A students.
“Went out for a few hours Saturday. Sunday was too windy to stay out long.”
Renn wondered if Sal or one of his friends had seen him and Marlee and if this might be a subtle way of telling him he needed to be more discreet in socializing with his female subordinate.
“Wish I could have gotten out,” he said, “but my wife’s brother invited us to Dallas for the weekend. Housewarming for the new place they bought. A damn mansion. So big they’ve had to hire a housekeeper and full-time groundskeeper.”
“Must be nice,” Renn remarked, relieved that his question had apparently held no hidden subtext.
Sal snickered. “Unless the bubble bursts.”
A tap on the door was followed by Taggart marching to the waiting chair. He greeted everyone and sat without being asked.
Faye began the interview the same way she had with Marlee, by asking him to recount his background.
He didn’t exactly slouch in the chair, but he certainly relaxed in it. He mentioned, almost in passing, that he had a bachelor’s degree in business administration, then focused on his record as a football player in college, which had resulted in his being picked by the Dallas Cowboys.
“Unfortunately,” he said alm
ost cavalierly, “an injury curtailed my professional athletic career, but I was able to make many prominent friends in that and other major national sports. As a result, I have contacts throughout the country who can furnish me with details and inside stories not normally available to even the most seasoned reporters.”
He summarized the places he’d been and dropped names like birdseed at a church wedding.
“You asked what I’ve accomplished since I’ve been here and what I’m most proud of,” he went on. “Professionalism. I’ve approached this job, not as an analyst at a small station, but as a trained expert on a large scale. I’m proud of that and the awards, both local and national, that I’ve received.”
“You seem to know a lot of people,” Renn conceded, “but you have no experience writing or reporting sports events, and you lack the technical skills to edit and produce. How do you propose to overcome those handicaps?”
“The skills you mentioned aren’t essential to forward thinking, Renn. It’s progressive, innovative leadership—vision—I’ll bring to the sports department of KNCS-TV. We’re at a crossroads. Business as usual, or break new ground and create something special and daring.”
“If you were to assume the role of sports director at KNCS-TV,” Faye prompted him, “what changes would you make? What would you do differently?”
“I’ve given that subject a great deal of thought.” He folded his hands in his lap. “I’d make several changes. I’ll continue to report local athletic events, not just as a favor to the community, but to promote the considerable talent in our own backyard. I’ll also aim our coverage toward a broader market. KNCS-TV today is a local station. My goal is to get our call letters nationally recognized for quality reporting and the talent we discover. I intend to put Coyote Springs, Texas, on the map in the world of sports.
“I’ve carefully observed the local talent. It’s good, and some of it is capable of much more. It’s simply a matter of giving the kids the opportunity to be discovered, and that’s something I’m uniquely qualified to do—bring in the high-stakes talent scouts, the headhunters who are looking for the next Troy Aikman, the next Magic Johnson, the next Williams sisters.” He rested back and balanced his right ankle on his left knee. “That’s why I want to syndicate our sportscast. First, by having insightful analysis of national sports. Second, by discovering and touting top-notch local athletes. With syndication will come greater prestige for KNCS-TV and much, much higher revenues. I’m the man who can make it happen, because I have contacts and inside knowledge of the sports world.”