Opposites Attack: A Novel with Recipes Provencal
Page 29
His cell rang. He gave the caller I.D. a glance. “It’s the little woman.” He lowered his voice as he talked to her and kept his eyes on my chest.
Every time I’d lost out on a job because I wasn’t the right race, I thought of all the guys who’d been passed over because they didn’t have a uterus. Or men and women who weren’t the right age anymore. That’s life. The radio life.
“Excuse me,” Rick said as he stood up. “I’ll be right back. I have to tell my son a bedtime story or he won’t go to sleep.”
I strongly suspected he was telling the “little woman” a bedtime story.
What did renovate slowly mean? Was he going to offer me overnights? The radio equivalent of Siberia. And could Isis, the woman doing it now, the one whose every word I analyzed as a kid and wanted to emulate, be in her 70s, as Nigel guessed? Maybe she was retiring.
I took out my phone and did some social to pass the time. With my new name, I had to start fresh in every way. I grabbed @JazmynBrownNYC on Twitter.
Rick returned with a satisfied look on his face. Definitely phone sex.
“So where was I?”
He told me the latest consultant hired to turn around WBRR had renamed it.
“The jocks are to call the station ‘99 the Bear’ and nothing else,” he said.
“The Bear?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Well…” How could I put this tactfully? “Sounds great for a station in the Rocky Mountains.” Seeing his crestfallen face, I added, “Wall Street hates bears. If they were going to name it after an animal, call it the Bull.”
“Too much like bullshit.”
That would have been perfect.
He unleashed his pitch like a windup toy. “I want this station to play the best rock of yesterday and today. I want talent that brings energy to the airwaves. Who’ll get it out of its time warp. The expensive oldsters will start to go as their contracts end. Do not repeat that.” As if they and everyone in the business wouldn’t know. “You’ll be a star in the new regime. Hell, you may end up in mornings or afternoons. I know a woman in drive time is rare in this format, but if you rack up better numbers…”
I pegged Rick as a card-carrying member of the Dangling Carrot Society. But he had me.
Bear schmear. Bring it on.
“The Dick and Dork morning show are going to have ‘Bare it on the Bear Thursdays’ where girls come in and take off their tops for major prizes.”
“Wow… real theater of the mind.”
He ignored my sarcasm as he slowly twirled his glass around as though he were grinding it into the table. “Chopper’s giving away a tricked-out Harley with a big angry grizzly on it, we’re going to have people dressed as bears handing out station stuff all over the place, and Maxx is going to have the Barenaked Ladies do an acoustical concert on his show.”
I admired Rick’s do-or-die outlook. Nigel was the same way with the records he promoted, forging on with a winning attitude whether he loved or hated the product or artist.
“That brings us to the lovely Cat Cruz and you.”
I sat up straighter.
“I’m going to leverage the Barenaked Ladies connection by calling the midday show… The Barenaked Radio Ladies and have two hot women on instead of one. Would you have a problem pretending you were doing the show nude?”
“Right.” He assured me he wasn’t joking.
“Cat might actually take her clothes off,” he said. “She’s an exhibitionist, you know, but you wouldn’t have to.” He pulled at his chin some more. All he needed were horns to complete his devil look. “Unless you wanted to. I’m sure a nude pictorial could be arranged.”
I clutched my folded arms, rubbed my unfinished tattoo.
When I was starting out in radio, I was asked to slather myself with honey and have hundred-dollar bills stuck all over me. Selected listeners would have five seconds to grab as much money as they could. Ree intervened. The station had no problem talking the traffic-reports girl into doing it. In the madness that ensued, one of her breast implants ruptured.
Our cheerful server appeared with our food.
“Excuse me,” I asked the waiter with a charming smile, “would you do your job naked?”
“Only if you left me a really big tip, honey.” He flitted off.
In the dead silence that followed, Rick laughed nervously. “It’s pretend, Jazmyn.”
“A pictorial isn’t.”
“Just a suggestion. Not a deal-breaker.”
The more I turned over the Barenaked Radio Ladies idea in my mind, the more I hated it. What I hated more was not being on New York radio.
“Rick, you could pair me with the Wicked Witch of the West. I have to be on New York radio at least once in my life.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, wicked witch…”
“What’s that mean?”
He didn’t answer. As for the show itself, he wanted me to run the soundboard.
“That means Cat is still the star,” I said.
“No, it doesn’t. Howard Stern runs his own board. It puts you in control.”
Rick’s offer was 90K, union scale.
“The magic number is 100. And you’re asking me to pretend I’m naked? Please.”
It was almost triple my last salary, but New York was three times as expensive. On the other hand, I had no income at the moment. I had lingering doubts about Cat, but we shook hands on it.
In no time flat my sashimi was nearly gone.
“Miss lunch?” Rick asked.
I pushed the plate away.
“Uh, Jazmyn, we’ll put you up in a hotel for two weeks, but would you mind moving to a less-expensive place?” It wasn’t really a question. “Parker Meridien’s too rich for our blood.”
The seduction was over. I was now in that new gainfully employed state of mind; a mix of relief, terror, challenge, and enslavement. I also felt like a space capsule finally landing on another planet after 11 years. Instead of a loud, rocky thunk it was soft, measured, exciting.
Also from Jo Maeder
When I Married My Mother:
A Daughter’s Search for What Really Matters—
and How She Found It Caring for Mama Jo
“This book is important to every mother and daughter, and to every woman who wants to be one.”
— Maya Angelou
In this memoir, who would think a diehard New Yorker caring for a declining, doll-collecting, estranged, hoarder mother in the Bible Belt would turn into the adventure of a lifetime? Throw in bingo-playing drag queens, longstanding family feuds and unresolved guilt in every direction, and Jo finds that love blooms and laughter erupts in the most unlikely places. She found that rather than dreading her new role, she embraced it. Surprisingly, these were some of the best years of her life—and her mother’s.
Not only a helpful guide to those navigating their own story of a loved one in decline or now gone, When I Married My Mother is a you’ll-laugh-you’ll-cry story for all. The eBook and paperback editions include bonus material of an author interview, Mama Jo’s favorite cookie recipe, caregiving tips, and discussion questions.
About the Author
Photo by Meg Busch and Jo’s droid
JO MAEDER was a radio DJ in South Florida and New York City who once went by the air name “The Rock and Roll Madame” and followed The Howard Stern Show. She now lives in North Carolina and is a writer/bird nut. She travels, cooks, and bakes decadent cookies whenever possible. Ditto dancing. Read “The Story Behind the Story” that inspired Opposites Attack on Jo’s website. Connect with Jo here or through:
A Message from Vivant Press
If you love a book, word-of-mouth (and mouse) keeps it afloat in the vast sea of reading choices. Tell your local bookstore. Leave online reviews. It makes a difference. The number of stars and how recent the review impacts Internet searches. One sentence is enough to count (though the longer it is, the more weight it’s given). Sharing links where a book can be bought helps, to
o.
See a typo, inaccuracy, or have a technical problem? Please bring it to our attention. Use ContactVivantPress@gmail.com or the address at the front of this book. Merci beaucoup!
OPPOSITES ATTACK Book Trailer
www.JoMaeder.com