“But I have to show you this eye serum because it’s going to change your skin care forever. Even if you’re someone who doesn’t have a bedtime skin care routine, this is the one product you’ll want to invest in. Honestly, I can’t believe we’re giving it away, because it’s like liquid gold.” She walked toward the white-haired man. “This is our gorgeous model, Antoinette.”
An appreciative titter made its way around the table as Dana beckoned to an imaginary camera. “In a minute, I’ll want a tight shot of her eyes, but first, look at this.” She opened the serum, pulled out the dropper, and plunked one, two drops onto her fingertips. “It feels like the smoothest silk,” she said, as she rubbed her finger and thumb. She stopped to sniff it, closing her eyes as if transported. “Even the smell is seductive,” she said. “But check this out.” She crooked her finger toward the make-believe camera and rubbed the oil onto the old man’s crow’s-feet. Dana could picture him going home that night and telling his wife what a good sport he’d been. But in fact, he seemed to enjoy the feeling of being fussed over.
“Watch closely as her fine lines disappear. Do you see? Isn’t that extraordinary?” She took his head in her two hands and moved it to face forward. “Now look at the difference between the right and the left side. The lines are vanishing! And that’s after one treatment!” Dana tapped her ear as if listening to a message from her segment producer. She was going in for the kill. “Wow! This is incredible. We’ve been on the air less than two minutes and we’ve already sold three thousand units! This is unprecedented. But I’m just a little worried, because I really want you to get this home at this incredible one-time price, so you’re going to have to be fast. Please, if you want this—and I think that any woman at any age should—get to your phone now.” Dana held up the products again, talked about the essentials oils in the list of ingredients, restated the prices and then stopped abruptly, as if getting a last message from her producer. “That’s it! We are sold out! I’m so glad so many of you were able to get your orders in on time. Thank you!”
A shocked silence descended over the room. Dana wasn’t just a pitch woman, but an actor, and she knew when she owned an audience. And she owned this one. They were all in, suspending their disbelief enough to be convinced she had actually sold all that merch.
Dana closed the products, walked toward Eleanor and put them back into the box.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Dana asked the group, and saw a grin spread across Eleanor’s face. Dana grinned back. They both knew what had just happened. Dana Barry had convinced the board to give skin care a shot. And Ivan’s plans to convert to an electronics-only channel had just short-circuited. At least for now.
13
After the boardroom meeting, Dana and Ashlee dashed through the halls to get to the nails and makeup department.
“What happened in there?” Ashlee asked, as they did a kind of run-walk.
“Damned if I know,” Dana said. “But I think I may have convinced the board not to abandon our brand for Ivan’s Great Leap Forward.”
“Bless your heart,” Ashlee said.
“I never know whether you Southerners are being sarcastic when you say that.”
“And you never will, darlin’,” she said, pouring it on, and Dana got the point. That was the whole idea. Ashlee followed it up with a smile so endearing it was clear she wouldn’t need to worry about losing her job. This was a girl who could charm her way into or out of whatever she damn well pleased. Bless her heart.
When they reached the makeup room, Ashlee left Dana and headed off to tell the production folks Dana would be along in a few minutes.
Meanwhile, the rushed schedule meant that Dana got only a bucket-sized load of gossip from Jo and Felicia, instead of the whole fetid vat. They did admit that just about every person in the company had been brought up as a possible suspect in Ivan’s murder.
“Whoever done it,” Jo said, as she swiped sheer pink polish onto Dana’s nails, “did us all a big favor. I heard he was set to fire everybody except the mailroom.”
“I heard he was going to fire them, too,” Felicia added.
Dana thought about the power of rumor mills to churn out gossip. If there was a way to harness that energy, the world could get along without fossil fuel forever.
“If he was going to fire Honeycutt, he would have fired anybody,” Jo agreed.
“You heard he was going to fire Honeycutt?” Dana asked.
“Yeah, from him,” she responded.
Now this could be actual news. “What do you mean?” Dana pressed.
“We heard him talking to someone at the party,” Felicia said. “That white-haired guy who dresses like he’s from England.”
Dana knew exactly who she meant—something about his suit and tie combinations looked decidedly British. It was the man she had used for her eye serum demo.
“Member of the board of directors,” Dana said.
“That’s him. We heard Dennison tell him Honeycutt would be gone before Christmas.”
“Are you sure that’s what you heard?” Dana asked. “It was awfully loud at that party.”
“That’s why they was shouting,” Felicia said. “They was outside the tent but we heard them sure as anything.”
Jo stopped to admire her handiwork, giving an extra swipe to the corner of Dana’s pinky. “Point is, we’d all be looking for jobs today if that prick was still alive.”
Dana had to agree with the assessment. If Ivan planned to ax Charles, it would have been a company-wide bloodbath.
“We might be out of work all the same,” Felicia responded. “If the board sticks with his plan.”
Jo reached for Dana’s other hand and continued. “I heard Honeycutt was meeting with them today to talk them out of it.”
Felicia stroked blush onto Dana’s cheeks. “God bless that man. I hope he succeeds.”
Dana wanted to tell them their jobs were safe. But it wasn’t her place to add yet more grist to the mill, especially since it wasn’t more than a good hunch at this point. So she simply said, “Honeycutt’s a good guy. We should have confidence in him.”
Felicia stopped working on Dana’s face and took a step back. “You know something?”
“Not for sure.”
“But you do,” Jo said. “You got the inside scoop. Spill.”
“I haven’t heard anything official,” Dana said.
“But unofficial?” Felicia asked.
Afraid anything she said would be repeated and altered and blown entirely out of proportion, Dana merely shrugged.
Felicia and Jo traded a look, and then bumped fists. They knew exactly what Dana had meant.
* * *
“How are you hanging in?” Dana asked Lorenzo DeSantis as he clipped the tiny lavalier microphone to her collar. She was on set, getting ready for her show, and knew the sound engineer had to be especially nervous about the rumors. Unlike the charming Ashlee St. Pierre, a tattooed, ex-con, single dad was not easily employed.
“Kind of wish I’d taken that job at QVC,” he said, referring to an offer he’d received from a competitor earlier in the year.
“Between you and me,” Dana said, putting a comforting hand on his arm, “I think things are going to be alright here.”
He stared into her face, his large, black-brown eyes earnest and grateful. “Really?”
“I was summoned to the board meeting and got a good feeling about it.”
He leaned in. “I could kiss you,” he whispered.
She knew he didn’t mean anything by it...or maybe he did. She took her hand off his arm just in case. Since they had a history—a short but intense relationship when she first came on board—she didn’t want him to misconstrue her signals.
“Better not,” she said, dismissing his comment with a light laugh as she nodded toward the control booth, whe
re her segment producer and the technicians had a high-definition view of the two of them.
He flicked on her microphone and gave her a wink. “Go get ’em,” he said.
And she did. Dana’s successful presentation before the board gave her an extra boost of adrenaline for her show, and as soon as the camera went on she oozed over the pricey leather satchels, crossbodies, saddle bags, hobos and totes like they were the culmination of every advancement of mankind since the dawn of time. The words flowed from her like poured cream as she cooed over the colors and the textures and capacious lined interiors. She marveled at the hardware and the styling and the workmanship. Dana barely even glanced at the monitor that showed the sales numbers, because she could feel it in the sinews of her body. Her viewers were reaching for their phones.
“Those were your best numbers in months,” Jessalyn said when she finished. “Sherry will be thrilled.”
Sherry, thrilled? Dana couldn’t imagine what that might look like, but she was glad to be going into her meeting with the supervising producer on a high note.
Dana went back to her dressing room, and dismissed Ashlee for the day. She changed into her street clothes as she waited for Megan to arrive. Earlier, they had confirmed the meeting with Sherry, and Dana was feeling just a little more confident about it now. Of course, Sherry Zidel was hard to predict, but between Megan’s presence and today’s sales figures, she thought she had a pretty good shot at getting official permission to perform in her Sweat City show.
A few minutes later, Megan arrived in her black power suit, ready to do battle. As they rode the elevator together to the top floor, Dana filled Megan in on that morning’s meeting with the board as well as her sales figures.
“Excellent!” Megan said. “Now we have enough ammunition to slay every supervising producer from here to Burbank.”
By the time they arrived at Sherry’s office, her assistant and official gatekeeper had already gone for the day, so the duo walked right up and knocked.
“Come in!” Sherry called, and Dana pushed open the door to see that Sherry was not alone. Standing across from her desk, his arms folded, was Ari.
Dana shouldn’t have been surprised. He was investigating a murder, after all, and needed to grill everyone who had been at the party. But she’d managed to tune her mind to a different frequency. This was a jolt, like emerging from a darkened theater into sunlight, and Dana felt blinded. She couldn’t move.
Time seemed to slow as Ari turned to face her. She could clock the exact second of recognition. He was startled to see her, but surprise was quickly replaced by pain. You hurt me, his eyes said, and it cut right through her. And she knew then that he hadn’t intuited her intention to merely put their relationship on hold until his investigation was complete. And his heart was broken.
“Anything else, Detective?” Sherry asked as she rose from behind her desk.
Ari turned his back to Dana. “We’re good for now,” he said to Sherry, and gave Megan a brief nod while heading toward the door.
“Ari, wait,” Dana said.
“Sorry—I’m busy,” he said.
“Will you be in the building for a while?” she asked.
He paused, avoiding her gaze, and she knew that he was deciding whether to brush her off or let her in. At last, his shoulders relaxed in resignation.
“Probably,” he said.
Dana nodded. “I’ll find you.”
After he left, Sherry took a seat without bothering to invite Dana and Megan to do the same. Still, they lowered themselves into the pale pink side chairs—a carefully added touch to an office hardened by a wall of live monitors displaying every camera angle on set, as well as the actual live broadcast as seen by the viewers at home, and a real-time feed of the sales numbers. The wall behind Sherry’s desk had windows spanning at least six feet across. But if the sunlight had any notion of casting a glare on the supervising producer’s screens, the decorator had thwarted it with heavy curtains patterned in bold stripes of black and white.
“If there’s trouble with you and Clark Kent,” Sherry said to Dana, “I don’t even want to know.”
As if Sherry Zidel would make the list of people Dana might pour her heart out to. “Relax,” Dana said. “I wouldn’t dream of exposing you to human emotions.”
“This meeting is looking up already.”
“Have you seen Dana’s numbers today?” Megan asked.
Sherry adjusted the glasses on her narrow face. “No,” she said sarcastically. “I don’t look at numbers. I sit here all day watching sitcoms. What’s that new one that’s all the rage? With Ross and Rachel?”
Great, Dana thought, Sherry Zidel has decided she’s a comedian.
“I suppose you also know Dana got called into a meeting with the board today,” Megan said, ignoring the joke.
“They keep me apprised.” Sherry leaned back in her chair. “Tell me why you’re here.”
“We need to revisit that agreement you had with Dana—about Sweat City.”
Sherry made a face. “What about it?” she said. “That show was over months ago.”
“There’s a new one,” Megan said.
“Well, someone alert Entertainment Tonight.”
“This is serious,” Megan said. “With everything that’s going on at the Shopping Channel, I don’t want to take any chances with Dana’s contract. We’ll need your official approval for her to appear onstage.”
Sherry went quiet, as if retreating in thought, and Megan shared a look with Dana.
“Little problem,” Sherry finally said. “I no longer have that authority.”
“What do you mean?” Dana asked.
“Ivan stripped me of it about two weeks ago. Said he would be making those decisions from now on.”
“You might recall—” Megan said “—Ivan is dead.”
“Hard to forget, what with all of Munchkinland celebrating.”
Megan leaned in. “So wouldn’t the power revert back to you?”
“Damned if I know,” Sherry said.
“Can you just take the power?” Dana asked. “I mean, you could certainly make a good case that you assumed the responsibility was yours.”
“Do I need to remind you that it’s a delicate time here for all of us?”
“Not as delicate as it was before Dana knocked the board’s socks off this morning.”
“Fair enough,” Sherry said. “That bought us some time. But if those skin potions don’t sell, we are all fucked.”
“So what do you propose we do?” Megan asked.
Sherry shrugged. “If Dana wants to take a chance on being in breach of contract, be my guest. I won’t make an issue of it. But don’t expect me to sign off on it, either. If anybody finds out, we never had this conversation. I’m not sticking my neck out for anybody.”
“And what if I threaten to tell the board about—”
“Then we’re all screwed, aren’t we? My best advice—don’t do the damned show. But if you have to, don’t tell anyone—least of all, me.”
Dana couldn’t imagine how Ivan even knew about that clause in her contract unless he went actively looking for it. “Why did Ivan take the power away from you, anyway?” she asked Sherry.
“He didn’t say.”
“Any guesses?” Megan pressed.
Sherry folded her arms. “Oh, I think we all have a pretty good guess.”
The idea that Ivan had been strategically hunting her made Dana queasy. She looked down, and they all went quiet for a moment. At last, Megan spoke, addressing Sherry.
“You think he wanted the leverage for, uh...” She trailed off, the struggle apparent on her face.
“For a blow job?” Sherry said. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I think. He managed to convince the board he was some sort of holy roller, pious and above reproach. Meanwhile, the fucker t
hought he landed the gig of a lifetime here. Money, women, power. He had it all. Too bad for him pigs can’t fly.”
“Did he come on to you, too?” Dana asked.
Sherry’s face went so tight she couldn’t breathe without snorting. “Anna,” she said through her teeth. “Can you imagine? What kind of entitled prick comes on to someone’s girlfriend right in front of them? I could have...” She stopped herself, looking from Megan to Dana. “Well, I could have, but I didn’t. I just refuse to pretend I’m falling to pieces over it. That bastard.”
“I don’t think any of us are too broken up over it,” Dana added.
“Maybe this one,” Sherry said, pointing a thumb at Megan. “She seemed pretty cozy with the son.”
“Fortunately, he’s nothing like his dad,” Megan said.
Sherry snorted. “You’d better hope not.”
* * *
When they left Sherry’s office, Megan tried to get Dana to consider giving up the play.
“As your manager,” she said, “I have to advise you to pass up the Sweat City show this time.”
“No chance.”
“It’s just too big a risk. If things go south with the company, they’re going to be scrutinizing every contract—especially the ones with high salaries.”
The very thought made Dana’s chest tighten. “Sweat City is more important to me than the Shopping Channel. You know that.”
“I also know that you just signed an expensive lease you’re going to have to carry on your own. If you find yourself out of a job, what’ll you do?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Be realistic,” Megan said. “Your last steady job paid twelve dollars an hour, and you couldn’t even hold on to it.”
“Now you sound like my father.”
“I’m just trying to be pragmatic here.”
“Well, I’m not worried,” Dana said. It was a lie. She was terrified. But that didn’t mean she was willing to give up Sweat City. It just meant she would have to sell the hell out of that skin care line.
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