by Tonya Muir
I have already had the conversation in my mind and am ready to react calmly and surprise him. I like to keep him guessing. He only thinks I’m always ready to fly off half-cocked. The truth is there is very little I do that has not been considered and planned. So I know that he will tell me Harper is now working camera and that we’re stepping up to the challenge of our competitors. The worst he could tell me is that she’s doing camera on my newscast but I’m betting that she’ll be special assignment and live feed. Otherwise her previous experience would be wasted here in the studio. I figure I’ll just nod my head and smile at him and make a calm retreat. That’ll shock him.
He asks me to close the door and I do, leaning my back against it, crossing my ankles casually. I chose emerald green silk this morning and I know it flatters my vibrant eyes and my golden hair. I know this because I’ve been color typed and wardrobed so often that there is very little in my closet that I chose myself.
"Have a seat, Kelsey," Chambers offers nervously.
I shake my head once. "Feel like standing, thanks."
"All right," he nods but I can tell he’s disappointed. Either I’m less imposing seated or he desperately wants to sit himself, I can’t decide which.
"We’ve had a formatting change."
I nod, meeting his eyes. Odd choice of words, I decide. Not an ‘addition to the staff’ or some such mundane phrase.
"Harper Kingsley has signed with us to head up our special assignments. She’ll be director and camera lead for our field work and our away crews."
I nod again. Sounds like a good opportunity for her. If she didn’t make my skin crawl, I would be happy for her.
Chambers takes a deep breath and suddenly I realize there’s more going on here. I clamp down on the unexpected nervousness in my gut and narrow my eyes at him. "What else?"
"Uh … she requested a full time reporter to round out her team. Someone who would go on locations and do the live feeds."
I don’t like where this conversation is leading and my expression must show it because he starts talking even faster.
"We looked at the staff and knew that we needed someone with a lot of experience and good presence, someone the public already knows and likes. We chose you," he blurted at last.
"You’re taking me off anchor?" I ask slowly.
He nods.
"My contract states-"
"Your contract allows for this shift, Kelsey," he interrupts me. "Believe me, we made sure of that before we even approached you."
I wonder vaguely if he has a mouse in his pocket or if his weight problem has finally taken on a separate identity to warrant the plural pronoun he insists on using. "You’re demoting me?" My voice is low and dangerous.
"No," he says quickly, shaking his head. "This is a great opportunity for you. You get more exposure, more field experience. It will improve station ratings and make you a sure bet for the anchor in New York."
I squint at him, studying the beads of sweat on his forehead. He’s pulling out the Ace now, it’s peeking from his sleeve. He knows that I want that move to New York. He doesn’t have to offer me anything, actually, the contract binds me to this position change without my consent and without padding to make it more comfortable. I know he’s trying to appease me, lessen the impact my move will have on the newsroom. "You make an addendum to my contract saying that I get the anchor when Reeves retires, even if it’s before this contract expires, and I’ll make it easy for you."
He knows exactly what I’m saying. I’ll go because I have to but I can walk in silently and pretend it’s the promotion he claims it to be or I can go screaming and yelling like it’s the demotion I know it is. The choice is up to him. The image of the station could depend on it.
"What if Reeves hangs on another year?"
"Then we renegotiate my contract with the New York anchor still intact and a clause that lets me leave anytime it comes available." It’s a good deal and I know it. It secures me the coveted position I’ve wanted for years and also makes sure I stay on here, my second choice market, until that anchor is available.
Slowly, very slowly, he nods. "I’ll have the attorneys draw it up."
"So I work for Tabloid now?" I ask carefully. His answer to this next question will mean a lot to me.
"Ah, no, not exactly. More like partners. She’s camera crew and live director. You still work for me. Tonight’s your last newscast."
"Grand," I answer shortly and turn to grasp the doorknob in my hand. I’m doing a great job of controlling my temper and we both know it. Silently I ask for permission to leave with a raised eyebrow and he grants it, nodding his head. I decide an early lunch is in order and walk right out the front door.
* * *
Her arms are tight around me as we ride up in front of my new station. I pull my Harley-Davidson FLTSF Fat Boy up onto the sidewalk, creating my own parking space. I need to talk to the station manager about getting an assigned one right by the entrance. No way in hell do I leave my baby out in some parking lot. All six hundred and sixty-six pounds of pure white heat need to be readily available to me at all times. And far away from drivers of foreign automobiles who think nothing of crashing their door into my ride.
As I turn off the engine and free my head of the brain bucket, the girl behind me continues exploring my upper body, as she has all during the ride here. I try to remember her name, but it still escapes me as it has all morning. I shrug my mental shoulders. Doesn’t matter really. It’s not like I’m gonna be sending her a Christmas card or anything like that.
I hang the helmet off the handlebars and reach around for hers. As soon as the buffer is removed, she lunges for me again. God, she acts like she’s never been laid before. Not well, at least.
I spin around on the seat, facing her, admiring the full lips and generous breasts that caused me to pick her last night at the bar. I lick my lips and capture hers. She tastes good, like peppermint, and I realize she must have had a breath mint on the drive over. My tongue dives into her mouth again and again, intent on capturing all of that taste for myself.
I feel her moan against my lips and her breathing hitches. I bet I can take her right here, right now and not even have to use my hands. Never one to turn down a challenge, especially one issued by myself, I grasp her hips firmly and pull her toward me. Her knees are splayed wide as they encounter my legs and she is rocking on the seat, desperate for contact. I feel her smaller hands slide over my back, my neck, my hair, as she clutches me, seeking relief.
I reach down and pull both of her legs over mine and tug her forward. She’s straddling me now, moaning as the pressure of my stomach begins to provide some of the relief she’s sought. It’s still not enough to get her off, I realize, so I grasp her ass cheeks and pull her closer still, grinding her against me.
She’s getting close now. We trade long, moist kisses, tongues sliding against each other, matching the rhythm of her body against mine. I can feel her wetness through her cotton pants and against my T-shirt. She’s deliberately rubbing herself against my navel ring, using it to get off. Each time she scrapes against it, nice little tremors go through my body as well. Nothing much, but pleasant nonetheless.
I need to bring this gig to a close and get in to my new job. I also need to have pity on the audience we seem to have attracted. One guy in a suit is practically saluting us with his lower member as he watches, several other men are twitching nervously nearby. There are a few women on the periphery as well, each looking a bit flushed, wondering what this is like. The straight women are enjoying the show, thinking about how their husbands and boyfriends have never made them feel like I’m making this girl feel. And I prove that to them right now.
I pull my date tight against me and lift my body up off the seat, being sure to rake the ring across her sensitive spot with just the right amount of pressure. She goes off, and I feel her body succumb to the tremors, and I kiss her long and hard, claiming her in every way.
Sated, she nestles against
my chest, breathing deeply, kissing my neck and jaw. I lick her earlobe. "Feel good, darlin’?" I ask, allowing my Louisiana accent to peek through, knowing how much women like Southern accents.
"Harper … god … yes."
I smile. It’s gonna be a good day. I glance around at the crowd, and wouldn’t be surprised if we got applause. You gotta go to clubs with expensive cover charges to see what we’ve just provided for free.
"Come on, I need to start my day." I wrap my hands around her waist and lift her up and off the Fat Boy. I follow her, swinging my leg over the long body of the bike. She staggers, still weak, and I steady her. Over her shoulder, I see what I am looking for.
I whistle, one of those piercing whistles my brothers taught me growing up. It’s the same one dad used to call us home in the evening. We could hear that shrill sound wherever we were in the neighborhood. A cab immediately pulls over to the sidewalk and I open the door for my date.
She grabs the lapels of my leather jacket and rubs her breasts against mine sensuously. "Please call me."
"Sure, baby," I promise. I lie. I can’t even remember her name, but I did enjoy her company. To distract her from my obvious lack of sincerity, I kiss her again. Once she is safely inside the confines of the car, I close the door and walk away.
My audience is still there. I recognize one of the women immediately, now that my focus isn’t otherwise distracted. Kelsey Stanton, the hot, young anchor for the network is staring at me, looking like a pickled fish. Obviously, she thinks I’m a cad of first order. I stand still for a long moment, taking her in. She’s shorter than I expected, but, damn, if the proportions aren’t all right. I wouldn’t mind giving her a ride on my bike. I might even use my hands, just to enjoy the feel of her. Knowing it will infuriate her, I smile and wink at her. I can’t believe she’s straight. Doesn’t seem right.
Time to go in and greet my new boss.
As I walk down the very staid halls of a network television station, I have to chuckle at what brought me, a tabloid camerawoman, here.
My phone started ringing off the hook with job offers the morning after I gave away my best penlight. The cops insisted it be kept as evidence, pissing me off entirely. It’s not like it was worth a lot, it was more the principle of the matter. I figure, if I disarm a nutjob, I should be able to keep the penlight as a souvenir. Now some crappy pissant evidence clerk will steal it and auction it off on e-bay, earning a bundle.
The first message that interested me was from KNBC, the Los Angeles NBC affiliate. Ronald Chambers, Division Chief, personally called me and asked me to come work for their news division. Needless to say, I was surprised to get such a respectable offer. I had always been told that a stint with True TV would successfully derail my career.
We met at a hotel bar in downtown LA for the interview. I figured he didn’t want me coming anywhere near the station and upsetting his precious employees. Like Kelsey Stanton, for instance. Gary told me last week at the bar that she despises our kind. Of course she would, our ratings kick her ass week in and week out.
Chambers told me what they needed: good camera work by someone not afraid to go after the story. He feels like his reporters have become too soft, too used to using their prestige rather than their gut in getting at the truth. I am supposed to "get out there and mix it up" or some other lame ass expression Chambers used. All he’s asking for is a taste of tabloid for the upright citizens who watch KNBC.
I can provide that.
As part of the deal, I insisted that my crew come along – Jimmy, my assistant, and Conrad, my editor. Best damn crew in the business, that’s us. And now we belong to Chambers. Hell, for the salary he gave me, I’d belong to just about anyone.
And the best part is: he promised me Kelsey Stanton.
Straight, my ass.
Coming next week to a computer near you …
Must Read TV
Exposure
Episode Four
Next week on Must Read TV …
I chuckle. "No. Pero soy mejor que un policia." I'm better than a cop. I can bring the whole damn world on someone with just the right camera angle. Which is exactly what I’m going to do with this bastard. For Cristina. And all the other kids who get used and abused by adults with guns.
As I make the slow circle, praying I’m not gonna get shot in the back, I notice that somehow my Betacam has made it to the top of the desk. It is pointed right at us and the light is on. Apparently Kelsey wants videotape of my death to play at the office Christmas party and other festive occasions.
Episode Four: READING IS FUNDAMENTAL
I stand silently in the large conference room off the newsroom. It’s early yet and the reporters and anchors haven’t shown up, leaving the building in relative silence. I meet my crew today, though the only one who concerns me is Kelsey Stanton herself.
It hadn’t taken much convincing to get her on the team. Chambers knows that she’s a little gold mine. She’s a publicist’s dream come true, even if she is a director’s nightmare. She’s intelligent, charismatic, and already in the public’s eye due to her relationship with Collins. She’ll be a good draw to our pieces, as long as she holds her own. She has to have done field work to be where she is now. I’m just not sure how much and in what market. I could have asked, I suppose.
Her attitude will be troublesome. Chambers warned that she didn’t want the position, that he’d had to pull rank. I suspected as much. Rumor is she hates tabloid television so I figure she must hate me as well since that’s where all my experience is.
I’m looking out the window over the sound stage, which is bathed in darkness and silence, when Jimmy strolls in. I hear his clompy too-big shoe approach so I don’t need to turn around.
"Olson," I say by way of greeting.
I know he’s checking me out, unused to seeing me with anything but jeans. I went for the soft look this morning: I’m wearing black cotton pants and a deep blue silk shirt. My long thick hair is braided away from my face.
"Hello?" I try again, still not turning.
"Oh!" Even without looking, I know he’s blushing. "Morning. This is it, huh?"
"Yup. We’ll have a quick team meeting this morning and then Chambers wants to talk to us. That’ll leave us time for some equipment checks before lunch."
"Cool." He scrapes a chair back and drops himself into it. He’s about as graceful as a hippopotamus sometimes.
Conrad comes in next and silently plants himself next to Jimmy. I’m still not watching them.
"What do you know about Kelsey Stanton?" the orange-haired kid asks, hating silences. He talks to hear himself talk; it was the first thing I learned about him.
"What about her?" I query. I don’t know a ton, but I sure do have my suspicions.
"I hear she’s a bitch on wheels," Conrad speaks up. "The whole news room hates to work with her. They fight over who has to do her stories and promos. The makeup lady dreads that part of her day."
"Yeah," Jimmy agrees. "I hear the same. Why did we have to get the bitch, Harper? That Samantha woman seems like a better bet."
"Every team needs a problem child." I shrug. "And we all know it ain’t one of us," I drawl softly, pleased with myself. It isn’t until that moment that I turn around to face the room.
Wouldn’t you know Kelsey Stanton is standing in the doorway? Her expression is frozen, her green eyes shuttered. She’s a woman used to hiding her emotions.
"Speak of the devil," I say to let the boys know she’s there.
They turn crimson as they avoid her eyes.
She’s not alone. Erik Collins stands beside her, a hand resting on the small of her back. He looks angry, his handsome features drawn up into a scowl.
"Now just-" Erik starts, but Kelsey lays a hand on his chest, shaking her head.
"Thanks for walking me in, Erik," she says softly and I detect kindness in her voice. "Good luck today."
He turns his attention back to the small blonde at his side and leans forward to kiss her cheek. "Don’t let them get to you, Kels." His words are meant only for her but I pick them up. "I love you."
She nods, pats his chest with the hand still resting there, and nudges him out the door, which she closes behind him.
She stands before us and the room is filled with uneasy silence. She’s wearing a copper colored pantsuit with a light colored blouse, no skirt today. I’m glad for it since we’ll be doing some walking. She seems nervous, but determined not to show it. Her body also radiates anger.
"Queen Bitch reporting for duty," she says slowly, taking a seat at the far end of the table, and I realize that our first meeting could have had a better start.
* * *
We are sitting in the news van Chambers has provided his new "Go-team." If he calls us that one more time, I may have to kick him. He tried to do a little pep talk for the four of us, but as he saw it failing abysmally, he sent us out on assignment, shortening our equipment checks and making us miss lunch.
Kelsey Stanton is sitting in the seat beside me, fuming still. Her arms are folded tightly across her chest, her legs are crossed and everything about her is screaming 'don't fuck with me.' If she were a porcupine, I'd be picking quills out of my ass right now.
She doesn't intimidate me. Although poor Jimmy is cowering in the back of the van, sitting on a crate, wishing he were anywhere but with us. Conrad is at the station, checking out the equipment and meeting the other editors. We didn’t have any confrontations this morning, despite the boys’ words, but she’s not thawed yet, either. She only speaks if one of us asks her a direct question. Ironically, I’m the only one with the balls to try. I hope she’s a professional and can turn it on in front of the camera. If not, I’ll certainly lay into her then and I guarantee she won’t like it.