I Am India Fox

by Virginia Nosky

  India sank back down into her chair, her head pounding.

  After everyone had cleared the room he spoke to her softly. “India, this is what you wanted. Where is the determined young woman who told me she wanted to be where the bullets were flying.”

  She looked up, but didn’t speak.

  “This is going to be big for you, India. Big. How cool you were, describing the terrible scene. Going among the wounded at the hospital. Great stuff.”

  “I’m proud of that part, Sumner. But to show a human being killed on camera is voyeuristic. It appeals to something dark…the not very admirable public appetite for terrible things. It’s gratuitous…pandering. I can’t think you’d want that.”

  “You said you wanted to go where bullets were flying. Those bullets hit real people, India. Don’t be naïve.”

  “I’m not being naïve. There are scenes of the wounded, the devastation. But the people are anonymous. This looks like making a horrific scene into a..a television movie. Starring the death of Nadia Rohbani, a well-known movie star in the Middle East. I must strongly disagree with you on this. I want to go on record for objecting to airing that segment. Strongly objecting.”

  Silence. Then Hardwick’s voice took on an edge. “Be ready to go on Tom’s broadcast.”

  India got up slowly and headed to the door. “All right, Sumner. I’ll be there.”

  He called after her. “I’ll want makeup to touchup your face to be really pale, make the bandage a little bigger.”

  India turned and stared. “Go to hell, Sumner.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  INDIA AND HAM Ivorson sat cross-legged in front of the long apartment windows, the sparkle of the night city stretching out, all but for the dark expanse of Central Park. Cartons of Chinese takeout scattered on the floor. India maneuvered her chopsticks around a shrimp. “This tastes good, Ham. I didn’t think I’d be hungry, but I guess I was. Chinese was a good choice for a shaky stomach. Today wasn’t such a good day for me.”

  “Hey, you did the best you could with Sumner. Over not showing that part of the video. You were going to lose on that one. But I guess you knew that.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for jumping in and agreeing with me. But I don’t feel let off the hook. There are people that explosion scene will hurt. And now the whole world will be looking at it. I heard it’s playing on YouTube. God. I hate it that people want to watch that sort of thing. If I’d realized what was on the video I’d not have brought Emil’s camera with me. Unfortunately I didn’t.”

  “I never thought of that. That you’d never seen it before.”

  “The first time I saw the clip was when it played in Sumner’s office.”

  “Dear God. No wonder you were so upset.”

  “Yeah. That morning came rushing back. In Beirut that morning, when the bomb went off, everything happened so fast it didn’t really register to me. After the explosion? I’m very foggy, not sure how long I was out, actually. I was under the sofa and I had to struggle to free myself. Nadia lay on top of the sofa that had me trapped, so she’s really the first thing I saw. Her bleeding.” She swallowed hard. “Her foot gone.” India put down her chopsticks and pushed the carton aside. “After the medics put her body on a stretcher and took her away, I found Emile. He was hurt, but I didn’t know how badly. After help came for him, I just stumbled around, doing what came automatically, I guess. Nadia tumbling and twisting like a rag doll through the air I didn’t really remember much, even afterward. Now I do. I remember too much. That the last question I asked her, she laughed. That’s how I remember her. Laughing. And then the orange flash. Then the roar of sound. The pressure wave.”

  Ham was silent for a moment. “Sumner’s planning to put you on some other news and talk shows.”

  India’s head snapped up, chopsticks poised. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Sylvia. And the boss’s secretary ought to know.”

  She made a face. “I think I’m going to head back to Beirut as soon as I can get a flight.”

  “Maybe that’s not a good idea. The doc wants to see you, to take out your stitches. Make sure you’re all right. Also, Sumner wants you to work with the new cameras. Thinks you’ll be more versatile or something.”

  “I’ll buy one and find somebody to help me. Emile, my camera guy, will still be in the hospital, but I can work with him there. The company should buy him a new one. His got banged up.”

  “They’re kinda pricey. The good ones.”

  “I know that. It doesn’t matter.”

  “I’ll get Sumner on it for you. That shouldn’t be up to you.”

  “Oh, Ham. That would be kind of you. ”

  “Hey. No big deal.”

  She sighed and leaned back on her hands. “I think I’ve had enough fried rice. Would you like another beer?”

  “I’m good. I’ll put the rest of this stuff in the fridge.” He grinned. “You might get a hunger pang in the middle of the night. Then I’ll get going. You look exhausted.”

  “I am, kinda. “

  They collected the cartons and took them into the kitchen.

  India walked Ham to the door, hesitated then put her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “Ham, I can’t thank you enough for all your help. Staying with me. I’m not usually so wimpy, but this has hit me hard. I hadn’t expected that. I’m going to have to get some thicker skin.”

  He tipped her head up, his voice thick with emotion. “Your skin is just fine. And everything else about you. It’s been…special to me to be, well, by your side. Does that sound dumb?”

  She raised her hand to his face. “No. Not at all. I didn’t realize how much I needed someone.” She smiled. “It’s a new feeling. For me.”

  He bent and kissed her. A little more than a brotherly kiss. Her mind raced. It would be so easy to fall into bed with him. Maybe it’s what she needed.

  Then, she pulled away. “I…I think maybe you’d better go. I’m a little confused now.”

  He gave her a quick hug. “Right.” He moved to the door. “I’ll call you in the morning to see how you are.”

  “Yes. That would be nice.”

  After he’d gone India felt a surge of disappointment. And underneath there was a tiny sliver that sleeping with Ham Ivorson would be cheating on Jack. How absurd was that. She had no ties to Jack Spear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Harvard Club a week later

  INDIA LOOKED AROUND the club after the maître’d seated her. Sumner Hardwick had greeted a man at the next table and they were chatting, setting up a future meeting. Less than two years had passed since she’d had that luncheon with Sumner and he’d suggested they continue the afternoon elsewhere. Remembering her rather sassy refusal. It had been a smart thing to do. Would she be as smart today? Handling her boss? Not sleeping with him. That had been an easy call. But diffusing his annoyance with her. She ran her fingers over the crisp linen cloth. Sumner had been impatient, no, angry at her insubordination about the footage of Nadia’s death. Is this little meeting today to smooth things over?

  Sumner seated himself. “I wanted to have lunch with you, India,” He leaned forward. “I think we had something of a misunderstanding back in my office. No hard feelings, right? I think you were still in shock.”

  India’s voice was expressionless. “I was perfectly fine.”

  “Still, I’m glad you saw the doctor.”

  India found herself drumming the table with her fingers and quickly put her hands in her lap.

  “You did good work with Tom on last night’s six o’clock. I will tell you when you went off message with the bombing scene and said how you were unhappy at showing the entire scene, with Nadia, and so forth, how you thought it was heartless? I was mad as hell and considered firing your ass. I don’t like to be crossed.” He took a sip of his wine. “But then I thought, no, you showed empathy, compassion. Empathy and compassion are all good for the network. The bleeding hearts love that.”

&nb
sp; India looked steadily at her boss, swallowing her anger before she spoke. “Tom was sensitive to my feelings, which I appreciated.”

  “I have great hopes for you, India, and I think you do, too. Often success happens because of something unexpected that turns out to be a great piece of luck. The action in Beirut was very lucky for you.”

  “But not so hot for Nadia. Right?”

  His stare was cold. “Those are two different things.” He sat back and placed his hands on the table. “I really don’t want us to be on different pages, India. I want you to do the People magazine article.”

  “If you say so, of course I will. You know that.”

  “Anna Wintour called me. She’s an old friend. She wants to do a feature piece on you for Vogue, in September for the Spring issue. She told me she had considered you even before you left for Beirut.”

  “Vogue for God’s sake. You’re beginning to make me sound like the flavor of the month. I thought when the Vogue thing was being considered, while I was doing the early morning show it was harmless. Part of the job. But when you sent me to Beirut, I stopped being a news reader and became a journalist.”

  He held up his hand. “And a good one. You have talent, India. Also beauty.” His voice turned chilly. “And you can’t tell me you haven’t used those assets to get what you want. As I remember I was a sucker for both.”

  India raised an eyebrow.

  He looked at her intently. “I gave you the opportunity here in New York, then sent you to Beirut, against several skeptical voices I might add.”

  The waiter appeared with plates of crab cakes, then refilled their wine glasses.

  “I ordered these for you. Remembered how you like them.”

  “That’s very nice.” She picked up her fork. She wasn’t hungry, but it was nice of him to try to please her.

  “I was sure you’d do a fine job in Lebanon. You were a natural, considering you’d lived there.”

  “And I haven’t disappointed you. I’ve been in Lebanon for four months and found a couple of very good stories on my own. Then brought back the bombing scene that’s been shown everywhere. The segment with Nadia is a terrible thing, but I can’t put that back in the bottle. Now, all I want to do is go back there, where things are starting to happen and see what more I can dig up.”

  “And you will. But I insist the doctor clear you before you can return to Beirut. You can spend the time familiarizing yourself with the new cameras.”

  “I appreciate that. I lucked out with Emile’s camera. It was still going. I wasn’t sure if I even got anything.”

  “In hot spots it’s good to have the reporter able to go solo. You won’t always have a cameraman with you. We’ll send you back with a replacement for your cameraman and with equipment that you can handle yourself.”

  India nodded, put her fork aside. “These were delicious, as usual.” She took a sip of wine, then watched her finger go around and around the rim of the glass. “I disagreed on showing the entire bombing aftermath and I still feel it was a mistake. I do regret irritating you as well. But that I can get over, and you got your way, so you will, too. What I don’t agree with is this sensationalizing my part. I do not want to be the story.”

  “Well, you are. And that is simply a fact. The network will use that and I wish you were more in agreement.”

  “As I said, I’ll get over it.” India looked again around the familiar room and said, with a half-smile. “I was a naïve girl when we came here last. Two years or about? Now I’m not so much.” She stood. “Thanks for lunch, Sumner. I have another camera lesson in half an hour.”

  Sumner rose and held out his hand. “I want the best for you, India. Believe that.”

  She reached across the table. “I want that, too. Sumner.” She brushed his hand with her fingertips, turned and walked toward the door.

  The Park Avenue apartment

  “C’MON IN, HAM. The People crew is just clearing up.” India swept her hand over the hive of technicians breaking down lighting and camera equipment. “I just finished my interview.” She grimaced. “You should have been here. What a joke. I feel like I’m in a B movie.”

  “You look smashing. Great dress.”

  “Like it? Sumner insisted I go buy something glamorous. I’m going to be Miss April.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m joking.”

  “Oh, yeah” He grinned. “I get it.”

  “Sumner arranged for the new camera and I’m checked out on it. Thanks for talking him into getting Emil a new one. How’d you manage that?”

  “I tore out his fingernails.”

  “That would have been so much fun to watch.”

  “Bad mood?”

  “Oh, I’m okay. Would you like a drink? I want one. I’m sorta strung out. And then can we go someplace nice for dinner for my last night in New York?”

  His face fell. “Last night? Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m sure it will piss off Sumner that I’m heading out, but doctor says I’m good to go. Dear man told me to be careful, though. If I get headaches or anything. Head bumps, as he said, can have worrisome side effects.”

  “I agree. You should wait a bit. Weren’t you going to be sticking around for the Vogue spread?”

  “If I have to I’ll come back for that next month. Maybe it’ll be scratched. I hope. Right now, I’m anxious to get back to my job.”

  “In that case I’ll have a Scotch and we’ll talk about where to go.”

  India walked over to the bar and poured the Macallan single malt into two glasses, then dropped in ice cubes.

  As she handed Ham his drink she said, “Maybe we should go to some dark hole where I can hide. Can you believe people remember me from when I anchored the early morning news? I was stopped on the street three times today. It was the YouTube thing. I’m afraid nobody will take me seriously any more when the People magazine article comes out.”

  Ham raised his glass to her, then walked over to take her chin in his hand. “I’ll take you seriously, India.” He bent and kissed her. “You can count on that.” India stood still, her eyes closed. Ham touched her cheek “Now let’s go to dinner.”

  Dear Ham. Why can’t I fall in love with someone like you?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Arriving, Rafic Hariri International Airport, Beirut

  INDIA WATCHED THE soaring limestone Pigeon rocks of St. George Bay and the harbor come into view. The Mediterranean seemed even bluer today than when she left after the bombing. Funny she should feel she was coming home after living here only four months this time, but maybe that was because she’d never really lived anywhere permanently. Home was just where she was at the time. Even the temporary apartment would be welcome after New York. She didn’t have a good feeling about the past week there, no idea how much bad feeling she left with Sumner. She wanted to be considered talented, brilliant even. Great looking, sure, but not just some blonde airhead. Had she come off that way? She’d try to dodge the Vogue glamour spread. The magazine had put out some feelers when she’d been doing the early news back in New York. That would have been fun then. But she was into serious stuff now. The glitzy, glossy magazines didn’t fit her any more.

  Her mind wandered: Wouldn’t Mother love all that! Vogue did a special section on Justine Fox, was it in September, two-thousand-one? Something like that. The Ambassador’s Beautiful Wife and Their Adorable Daughter at Home in the Lebanese Embassy. Mommy dearest and the editor Anna Wintour became great pals after that. Maybe Sumner thought the Vogue spread came because of knowing Wintour but I suspect it was really Mother putting a bug in the woman’s ear. I don’t need that kind of publicity, regardless of how Sumner looks at it.

  India set the case with the two digital cameras on the floor by the door in her apartment, then moved to her bedroom. The puffy duvet looked inviting, but she threw her suitcase over the tempting bed and began to unpack. Was she tired or just dispirited? On the plane she had decided the first thing she wo
uld do was check on Emile. His family had probably gotten him the best care and she hoped he had escaped with nothing serious. Next she would get in touch with Mariam. And Jack. By now he would certainly know who was behind the bombing at the hotel. It was unfortunate she’d had to leave the city to go to New York while things were still chaotic. All of the news of the explosion and aftermath would now be old news.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  INDIA PULLED HER car up to the front door of Emile’s parents’ house, a typically Mediterranean home, painted a slate grayish blue stucco, red tile roof.

  Emile flung open the door, his arm in a sling, the other waving a crutch. “India, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Terrific you weren’t hurt badly. You were in New York. Were you all right?”

  “Yes, and I’m fine. But, how are you? You use a crutch?”

  “Dislocated my hip. The docs flipped it back into place and now it’s just sore. It gets better every day. Some other minor stuff. Shoulder was just a bad bruise. I worried about that. Camera people need both arms.” He stood back grinning. “But enough about me. Come in, come in. God, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  She smiled. Another Emile idiom. India held up the case she carried. “I have something for you.”

  “My camera. You brought my camera back.”

  “Not the one that was all banged up. The network sent you another. It’s the latest thing…all kinds of bells and whistles. They even taught me to use one like it.” She laughed. “I sort of know how.”

  “Oh, God, I’ve gone to heaven.” He ran his fingers over the sleek camera. Looked through the lens.

  “I have a copy for you of the footage they found. Some of it was early, while I was talking with Nadia, then there was what I tried to take after the explosion. Open it and play it with the new camera later. I’m not going to stay long. I just wanted to see how you were.”