by Glenn Dier
Evan beamed. “You have the money shot.”
“We’re not here to discuss the newscast,” interrupted Alicia. “We’re here to discuss Sebastian’s discipline.”
Sebastian laid his phone on Alicia’s desk. Send filled the screen. His index finger hovered over the word like it was a detonation button. “Wouldn’t it be a shame,” he said, “if the competition got this video. Can you imagine what Peter Mansbridge will say if he sees it on CTV and Global, and CBC has nothing? He’ll be incensed. He’ll be shouting, ‘How did this happen? Who’s responsible? Someone needs to be fired.’ ”
“This is blackmail,” said Alicia.
“No, this is negotiation,” said Sebastian. His finger quivered. “Start the suspension next week. Make it two weeks if you like. In the meantime, we have a good old-fashioned scandal to lead Here & Now. Every newsroom in the country will want this story. You can topple a premier today. Or you can topple me. Your choice.”
The axis of no evil looked astounded. Alicia’s head swivelled between her colleagues.
“Two weeks suspension, no grievance,” insisted Alicia.
“I could use the holiday,” said Sebastian.
“I don’t like it, but I can live with it,” said Ruth.
“Get your story lawyered,” ordered Evan.
Sebastian took his finger away from the trigger and bolted for the newsroom.
Sebastian Hunter is not fading to black.
[ acknowledgements ]
Sebastian Hunter is an unscrupulous rake. He’s not entirely my fault. I had help. The Money Shot was born in a novel-writing workshop. Colleagues Linda Abbott, Bridget Canning, Susan Flanagan, Lesleyanne Ryan, and instructor Paul Butler were particularly malevolent in their suggestions. Thank you.
My writing might never have found a wider audience if not for the Writers’ Alliance of Newfoundland and Labrador. I was picked to be an apprentice in the 2014 Mentorship Program and was paired with Ed Riche. It was at this point my wife gave up all hope that I would use my power for good instead of evil. She feared Ed’s wicked sense of humour and considerable talent would only encourage the worst in me. She was right.
I’m blessed with an inordinately high number of friends skilled in critiquing and proofreading. Ellen Alcock, Bruce Bourque, Ron Crocker, Marlene Dale, Sheila Fitzpatrick, Susan Follett, Fred Greening, Susan Howard, Marie Thompson, and Derek Yetman all saved me from myself countless times.
Thank you to the team at Breakwater Books. Editor James Langer made The Money Shot a better written book, while graphic designer Rhonda Molloy made it look sharp.
The characters in The Money Shot are fictional, but Bruce, Joan, Rod, and Ted really do exist. Chasing the money shot at CBC was easier because of you. Thanks for letting me use your names.
Lastly, you can’t write a novel without a supportive partner, even one dreading the final product. Despite her misgivings, Deb left me alone to create a nasty Sebastian. The things wives do for their husbands.
Glenn Deir is a former CBC television reporter who lives in St. John’s. He used three decades worth of journalistic black humour to write The Money Shot. His memoir, Sick Joke: Cancer, Japan and Back Again, was shortlisted for a Newfoundland and Labrador Book Award for non-fiction.