The Money Shot

by Glenn Dier

  “Your mother needs a new anchor to love,” said Sebastian.

  “I agree. It’s time to move on. It’s time to bury Garrison. As long as we keep switching the faces on the desk, Garrison will be a ghost in the background.”

  Sebastian nodded gravely.

  “You’re a natural performer in the studio. You’re smart, funny, quick on your feet; a solid reporter and despite your cock-up on Friday, the audience still likes you. And most importantly, the network still likes you.”

  Sebastian beamed. He prepared to extend his right hand.

  “I’m ready for the chair, Evan.”

  “I know you are. I also know how disappointed you’re going to be.”

  “What!” Sebastian’s chest fell.

  “Sebastian, you’re not getting the job.”

  “If it’s not me and it’s not Janice, who?”

  “You can’t breathe a word of this until the official announcement later today. It’s Ethan Tremblay.”

  “The CBC’s Ethan Tremblay?”

  “Yes.”

  “The Ethan Tremblay in Jerusalem?”

  “Yes.”

  “The Ethan Tremblay who got his balls shot off.”

  “Yes, the same one.”

  “What the fuck is he doing coming here?”

  “He doesn’t want to be a road warrior anymore. He’ll be here in a month. In the meantime, you and Janice will continue alternating in the chair.”

  Sebastian bristled. He frowned at the Gemini sitting on Evan’s desk. He imagined snatching the statuette and cracking Evan’s skull with it.

  “I have a runner-up prize for you. Toronto wants to borrow you for a couple of months once we get settled. You should go. They’ve got national reporter jobs to fill and they like your edge.”

  “Always the bridesmaid,” said Sebastian before opening the door.

  He made himself stand tall. He wouldn’t give Janice the satisfaction of seeing his dejection. He passed her desk.

  “Dead man walking,” said Janice, not lifting her eyes.

  •

  Sebastian and Janice leaned against The Desk watching a monitor hanging from the ceiling. Channel 124—the closed circuit feed from the studio. The screen was split: Samantha Cormier sat poised in one video box, Ethan Tremblay in the other. The studio director typed Jerusalem under Ethan’s video cell.

  “He is my enemy,” said Sebastian in a hushed voice.

  “Mine too,” said Janice softly.

  Sebastian turned to Janice. “The enemy…,” to the screen, “of my enemy…,” to Janice, “is my friend.”

  The interview would unveil Ethan Tremblay to Here & Now’s viewers as Garrison Hill’s successor. Because of the time difference, the chat needed to be pre-recorded. Ethan would be dreaming when the tape aired, while Sebastian would be plotting.

  Sebastian turned up the sound to eavesdrop on the satellite confabulation.

  “Hi Ethan, can you hear me alright?”

  “No problem, Samantha.”

  “Ethan, you look fabulous.”

  Sebastian rolled his eyes. “That’s a new record. Just five seconds for her to serve up the first vacuous compliment.”

  “It’s not me; it’s the golden hour,” said Ethan.

  He had a yellow cast on his face, compliments of the setting sun. Warm colours filled the Jerusalem sky behind him.

  “Ethan, the backdrop is perfect,” said Samantha. “The Temple Mount, no less.”

  “Nothing is too good for the yokels back in Canada,” heckled Sebastian.

  “We’re recording here, Ethan. We’re going in five.”

  Samantha and Ethan looked straight into their respective cameras, staying quiet while waiting for the cue.

  “Joining us now from Jerusalem is the new co-host of Here & Now—Ethan Tremblay. Ethan, congratulations. We’re all very excited that you’re coming.”

  “Can’t wait to bask in your glory,” said Sebastian. He crumpled an abandoned outlook and pitched it at the screen. The paper ball bounced off Ethan’s face.

  “Thank you, Samantha,” said Ethan. “I’m excited too. I’ve been away from Canada for twelve years. I’ve loved every minute as a foreign correspondent, but it’s time to go home.”

  “I’ve loved every minute as a foreign correspondent, except for the time I got my balls shot off,” mocked Sebastian.

  “But your crotch looks normal,” said Janice.

  “Walnuts,” said Sebastian. “I always slip two in my underwear. They’re the perfect prosthesis. And I never run out. You can buy them on any street corner in Jerusalem.”

  “Ethan, reporters would kill to have your career,” said Samantha. “You work in one of the most exhilarating cities of the world, but you’re giving it all up to host a local newscast. Why?”

  “Twelve years ago I didn’t have kids,” said Ethan. “Now I have two. I think they deserve to see their dad for more than a few days a month. Plus, this city—this country—can be dangerous. I’d like them to live in a place where there’s no chance of a bus blowing up.”

  “Two children—that’s astonishing,” said Janice. ”Quite the feat for a man who, shall we say, doesn’t have any family jewels.”

  “What is a walnut if not a seed,” said Sebastian. “I can’t explain the miracle, but walnut gonads behave like the real love spuds.”

  “Ethan, when will you get here?” asked Samantha.

  “We’re packing right now and hope to be there by the end of the month,” replied Ethan.

  “We’re coming after Christmas,” said Sebastian. “I want to avoid The Nutcracker Suite.”

  “Good precaution,” said Janice. “And I also suggest not watching America’s Funniest Home Videos Christmas Special. They’re very fond of testicular trauma.”

  “Thanks for doing this, Ethan,” said Samantha. “We’ll see you soon.”

  “You’re welcome, Samantha. I’m really looking forward to hosting Here & Now.”

  The screen went black. Sebastian laid the remote on the counter.

  “Nuts to you, Ethan.”

  •

  “There you go,” said the waitress, as she laid a coffee in front of Sebastian. He didn’t bother to look up; he was too busy reading the smartphone version of his Lotto Lush story, though the web folks opted for the timid headline: Lotto Millionaire Blows It All.

  “Our barista is trying some new latte art,” said the waitress, fishing for feedback. Sebastian laid his phone down and examined the coffee foam.

  “Do I look like a Snoopy kind of guy?” said Sebastian, wearing his best stone face.

  “Now that you mention it, no.” The waitress bit her lower lip. “I don’t suppose you’d like a cat either?”

  Sebastian shook his head. “I’m allergic. Has she used up all the ferns?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll have a fern, please.”

  She reached for the cup. Sebastian held up his hand. “It’s okay, he’ll have it.” Sebastian pointed at Dozy Dan skirting between tables. Sebastian pushed Snoopy away. The two men shook hands.

  “Thanks for coming, Dan.”

  “I’m a little pressed for time,” he said, taking his chair. “I have a flight to catch.”

  Dan glanced at the cup. “Oh, Snoopy,” he said with childlike delight. “And he has happy feet.”

  Sebastian forced a smile. “Yes, they’re quite talented here. I knew you’d be rushed so I ordered already. Mine’s coming. There was a mix-up in the order.”

  “I just heard your radio story on that alcoholic millionaire. Absolutely compelling.”

  “He had a brilliant business plan—buy a million dollars’ worth of beer and live off the empties.”

  “Terribly sad,” said Dan, missing the joke as usual.

  “Wait until you see him. He’s right out of central casting: bloodshot eyes, red nose, hasn’t shaved in days and he’s wearing a wife beater undershirt.”

  “Evan says you found his ex-wife.”
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  “She’s a piece of work too. It took a while to track her down and convince her to talk, but I can be very persuasive. We’re saving her for the Here & Now story”

  Dan sipped his forgotten coffee. “What’s on your mind, Sebastian?”

  “Ethan Tremblay.”

  “What a coup, eh,” said Dan. “He’ll improve the quality of journalism at Here & Now simply by walking into the room.”

  Sebastian imagined ramming Ethan’s head into the bull’s-eye of a CBC logo, kicking him in the ass and snarling, “Improve this.”

  “He certainly comes with a reputation,” said Sebastian.

  “One fern, just like you ordered.” The waitress barged into their conversation. “Anything else? Something sweet?”

  “No, thank you,” said Sebastian.

  “I thought so,” said the waitress. “You don’t look like a sweet kind of guy.”

  Dan craned his neck. “A fern. I think you got short changed in the artistic department.” He slurped Snoopy’s nose.

  “Dan, I was under the impression that I would be getting the job. You said I have a bright future.”

  “You do. The door is open to Toronto, isn’t it?” Dan winked. “Look, no son-in-law of mine will founder on my watch, but I never said you’d get the job.”

  “You implied it.”

  “If I misled you, I’m sorry.” Dan laid his cup on the saucer. “CBC has more than one talented journalist. We had to find a spot for Ethan.”

  Dan’s seriousness triggered a memory, a cryptic conversation in Sebastian’s dining room about a bit of trouble in the Jerusalem bureau.

  “Why did you have to find a spot for Ethan?”

  “I can’t get into it.” Dan used his teaspoon to scoop foam off the sides of his cup.

  “If I say something that’s true, take a sip of coffee,” said Sebastian. Tacit answers were better than no answers.

  Dan raised his cup, letting it hover near his lips.

  “Ethan did something he shouldn’t have.”

  Dan sipped.

  “He embarrassed the CBC.”

  Dan sipped again.

  “You had to get him the hell out of Dodge.”

  Dan took a third sip and laid the cup down. “I have to get to the airport.”

  The two men walked to the cash register. “I’ll get this,” said Sebastian, pulling out his debit card. He lifted the lid off a jar of chocolate-covered coffee beans.

  “Care for some?”

  “No thanks,” said Dan. “I’ve spilled enough beans already.”

  •

  Sebastian used the drive home to reflect on how to turn the oblique into the candid. First thing tomorrow, he would canvass the best gossip mongers in the CBC. Thanks to the Training Department he had bonded with dozens of them—reporters from across the country. They had shared band-of-brothers training at the Toronto Broadcast Centre and, more importantly, band-of-brothers drinking along John Street. Some Deep Throat knew what Ethan Tremblay was hiding. Sebastian would turn over the rock and uncover the slime underneath.

  Sebastian parked in his driveway and shadowboxed as he ducked left and right up the walk.

  “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”

  He’d win the fight with Ethan Tremblay by a knockout. Sebastian gave the coat tree a left jab and then a straight right.

  “Hello, Sebastian.”

  The greeting landed like an uppercut to the jaw, momentarily dazing him.

  “Hello, Donna.”

  “Picking on a defenceless coat tree. Why not fight someone your own size?”

  Sebastian countered with a short, crisp punch. “How nice to see you, especially when you’re not shouting the C word.”

  “Sebastian, please,” said Roxanne, charging between the two fighters like a referee about to send them back to their respective corners.

  “Hi, honey.” He kissed the referee harder than usual, just to annoy Dour Donna. “Mmm, you taste good.”

  Sebastian steadied himself for another round. “I haven’t seen you in ages, Donna. Did you take your little show on the road?”

  “Couldn’t. We all have respectable day jobs. But it certainly was a fun evening, wasn’t it?” said Donna.

  “Are you including the part where your mother walked out in disgust?”

  Donna moved closer, planted her feet and turned Sebastian into a punching bag. “Disgust! You took advantage of an alcoholic lotto winner. Now that’s disgusting. You have no shame.”

  “This is not the night, Donna,” scolded Roxanne.

  “I’m sorry, I forgot,” said Donna. “I heard you didn’t get the big job you were after. I’ll leave you alone to lick your wounds in peace.”

  Donna headed for the door, but paused at the mirror. She took a lipstick tube out of her purse. Scarlet lipstick. Sebastian watched in slow motion—the removing of the cap, the twisting of the base, the head poking up, the deft covering of the lips.

  “When did you start wearing lipstick, Donna? I thought you vetoed cosmetics.”

  “It’s an experiment. I’m writing a paper on the psychology of colour. Red is the colour of arousal. It’s also the colour of anger. What does red mean to you, Sebastian?”

  “I was taught red means stop.”

  •

  No son-in-law of mine will founder on my watch. Sebastian dissected the words. Dozy Dan didn’t say, “No future son-in-law of mine will founder on my watch.” The pledge was predicated on marrying his daughter. An engagement wasn’t enough. His arid pontification on family was a coded message: Get on with it—make my daughter an honest woman. Sebastian calculated that his future success would come with a price. And he would pay it.

  Roxanne touched his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve been thrown under a bus. I hurt all over. I was cheated. I deserved that job.”

  “I know you did. You worked hard for it. I’m sorry you didn’t get it.” She hugged him. “Besides,” she said, wearing a wry smile, “I was looking forward to telling people that my fiancé hosted Here & Now.”

  “About that word fiancé, I was thinking that my career isn’t everything. Family is important too. Maybe we should set a wedding date.”

  “I’m in no rush to get married,” said Roxanne.

  Not quite the swoon he had hoped for. “Let’s recap the history. I get down on one knee. You say yes. Your mom and dad host this huge party. All our friends are there. You show off your ring. They all coo. And that’s the last time either of us mentions the word wedding.”

  “You don’t get a job, so you want to get married. What’s all this about?”

  “It’s just…,” Sebastian turned to the window. He focused on a kid walking his dog. Sebastian mentally counted one thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three. He rotated back to Roxanne.

  “It’s just…I need you. Journalism is a black pit. I fall into it every morning. You pull me out at the end of the day. You’re the decency in my life. I want to show the world what you mean to me.”

  Roxanne stepped back. Not quite the teary embrace he had hoped for. She was more cautious than adoring.

  Sebastian had seen that pensive look before. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Women are always flirting with you.”

  Sebastian spun an imaginary game-show wheel. The pie wedges clacking past the flapper contained flippant phrases: I’m man enough for all, They’re only flesh and blood, Handsome has its benefits. Roxanne tolerated his conceit, knowing he cast the bait in the hope of hooking a live one. Dour Donna offered no sport whatsoever. Roxanne was a much harder fish to land. The wheel ticked past Bankrupt and stopped on Jackpot.

  “Who wants a man that no one else finds attractive?” Roxanne’s solemn face signalled that his attempt at levity had fallen flat.

  “You don’t discourage them.”

  “Roxanne, you have a lock on my heart. I love you. I won’t stray. I’ll never hurt you.”

  She moved closer.
“If you do, let’s just say that Lorena Bobbitt has set the standard for divorce.” She exuded grit.

  Sebastian graced her cheek. He kissed her the way Rhett Butler kissed Scarlet O’Hara.

  “A fall wedding would be nice,” said Roxanne.

  “Let’s celebrate,” he said. He loaded a disc into the CD player. Of all the burdens he carried today, this was the heaviest. He pushed play.

  Roxanne melted into a glow of recognition.

  “May I?” Sebastian held out his arms for a ballroom dance.

  “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

  They fox-trotted through the dining room.

  Gonna find my baby, gonna hold her tight.

  Sebastian synced with the vocals. “Gonna grab some afternoon delight.”

  He removed his hand from her back and scooped up the bottle of Chianti Classico. He twirled Roxanne; she lifted two glasses off the sideboard.

  Slow, slow, quick, quick. Sebastian and Roxanne zigzagged down the hall to the bedroom.

  •

  Paul Bennett sat on a park bench watching ducks poke about the grass. He heard the occasional quack, but mostly they kept their heads down and stayed quiet.

  Maybe I should be doing that, thought Bennett.

  A couple holding hands passed in front of him. They paid no attention to the in-limbo police chief. He tapped his fingers on the bench.

  “Hello, Chief.”

  “Hello, Janice.” He stood to shake hands.

  “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

  “I don’t know why I did.” The chief’s eyes spurted around the parking lot.

  “If you’re checking for a camera, I swear I didn’t bring one. We’re alone. Well, as alone as you can be on a walking trail.”

  “I’m not keen on the idea of people seeing us together.”

  Janice took the sunglasses off the top of her head and perched them on her nose. “I’m a master of disguise.”

  The chief smiled, just a little. “My encounters with your profession lately haven’t been pleasant. I have my reasons to be suspicious.”

  “I’m not wearing a wire either. You can frisk me if you want. People like to.”

  He waved her off.

  “Care to go for a stroll around the lake?” asked Janice. “We’ll have more privacy in the trees.”

  The chief sauntered past the ducks. Janice matched his pace.