Talk (The Alexandra Chronicles Book 4) Page 5

  Of course he did. He and Alexandra had been friends and colleagues for ten years. "Actually, it wasn't her privacy I was worried about," he continued. ''It was yours. You're out there a lot."

  "Oh," Jessica said, feeling funny inside, but determined to keep this light. "You mean that you won't be able to date anybody this summer without having me hanging around."

  "What?" He sounded genuinely baffled.

  "Well, I was thinking about renting a place myself this summer," she lied. She felt very nearly as attached to Alexandra's farm as the anchorwoman did, particularly since she had been there for all the renovations and improvements over the years. But the idea of having to see Will with another woman made her willing to rent on the moon if only to be spared the sight.

  "I didn't know," he said quietly. "I mean, I don't know, Jessica, for sure what's going on with you."

  "Nothing's going on with me." She gestured, as if he could see her. "Look, if you want to rent the cabin, that's fine with me. Even if I were out there, you'd never see me unless you wanted to. So if you wanted to bring someone out—"

  "Jessica," he interrupted. "The thing is, what I'm trying to say is, I don't want to date anybody else this summer but you."

  Jessica blinked. "Oh."

  "I mean, I don't know what's going to happen. I mean, we've been having great lunches and walks and stuff—"

  And kisses, she thought.

  "And you seem to like me pretty well—"

  Like him pretty well? Was he brain-damaged?

  "And while I would like nothing better than to be out there this summer, it seemed as though I should ask you before I said yes."

  "You're not staying in the cabin this weekend, by chance, are you?"

  "Yeah. That's the other reason I called. I felt awkward about it."

  "And what did Alexandra Eyes say to you about all this? I'm curious."

  He laughed. "She said, 'Why would I offer you the cabin unless I thought it would be a good thing all round?'"

  "My, somewhat controlling our personal lives, isn't she?" Jessica said.

  "She said you pushed someone you thought was good for her into her lap, and now she's merely doing a little steering in return."

  Jessica flushed with pleasure. This was so wonderful. He really cared for her, wanted to do this dating thing, the whole nine yards. The prospect of the summer loomed now like paradise and she wished she could cancel the book tour and spend her vacation with him. She quickly reined in her thoughts, though. Come on, no tricking, no trapping, take it slow.

  "I can think of nothing nicer than to have you out there," Jessica told him.

  He gave a happy sigh. "Phew. Okay. Great. Then it's a go."

  "And if you change your mind later this summer, you know, and want to date other people—"

  "Why? Do you?" he asked quickly. "I mean, is there—"

  "No, no," she said quickly. "There's no one else, Will. What I was going to say was that if, you know, later, you do want to date someone else, I'd understand."

  There was a long pause. And then" finally, "Jessica," he said, "don't you get it? I've been waiting to go out with you for years."

  4

  “And here, ladies and gentlemen," Langley Peterson said late Friday morning to the group following him into Studio B, "is our one and only Jessica Wright."

  "Better known, actually," Jessica added, looking up from the notebook in her lap, "as the jewel in the crown." She smiled. "But seeing as you're friends, you may call me Miss Crown for short."

  After a moment's hesitation, the tour group behind Langley burst into laughter, realizing that Jessica was mocking the latest annual report that described her as the jewel in the DBS crown, since "The Jessica Wright Show" was the biggest moneymaker for the network.

  Everyone in the tour group was very important to DBS. There were executives from Procter & Gamble, IBM, Ford, Pillsbury, Fidelity, Travelers, Time Warner, Microsoft, Revlon, General Electric, Staples, Sony, Pepsi, Exxon, Purina and American Airlines. The group represented the largest part of the network's bread-and-butter advertising and it was particularly important they continued to like Jessica, since hers was the only DBS show that was ever boycotted by consumer groups.

  Nobody ever cared when the boycotting group was something like the Cross-Dressers of America, but boy oh boy had they cared when it was the Christian Coalition not so long ago. Happily, the sponsors had stood by "The Jessica Wright Show," and as it turned out, no real Christians had agreed with the boycott—it had only been the bodies politic within the coalition seeking personal publicity—and the boycott had been quickly rescinded.

  Also in today's group were New York City trade and commerce officers from Mayor Giuliani’s office, a business-affairs liaison from Governor Pataki's office and an official from the New York State Energy Commission.

  "Langley was just explaining," Cassy said, stepping forward, "that 'The Jessica Wright Show' has been on the air now for seven years—with at least a twenty percent ratings increase every single year. Jessica currently has an average of seven and a half million viewers every night, translating into a prime-time Nielsen's rating of eleven point five, which, as you know, is pretty dam good for a show on the youngest of the five broadcast networks. Certainly it's encouraging that as the big three continue to lose viewers in prime time, Jessica continues to find them."

  "Hi, Miss Crown here," Jessica said, winking at, and shaking hands with, the tallest man in the group. “Aren't you Greg something? Greg—"

  "Roth."

  "I've met you before," Jessica told him.

  The man was elated. "Yes, I can't believe you remember. It's been a while."

  "And Ms. Gallagher, isn't it?" Jessica said smoothly, reaching her hand out to another executive. "It's very nice to see you again. I certainly appreciate your support."

  The woman positively beamed.

  There was no need for them to know about the sponsor cards Cassy maintained on behalf of the DBS talent, expressly for these kinds of events. On the cards were the names of sponsor representatives, the dates and who they had met from DBS, and, if a photo was not available, a description of the executive. Before these kinds of meetings, Cassy would send copies of the cards to prep everyone.

  For ten minutes Jessica shook hands and chatted with every member of the group. She and Alexandra called these the Annual Dog and Pony Shows. (Jessica complained she was always the dog.)

  When she had finished shaking everyone's hand, Jessica said she wanted to introduce the brains behind the show, her executive producer, Dennis Ladler. "Although Denny and I have been working together for almost fourteen years—since the very, very beginning, before we were syndicated and ours was just a little show on a UHF station in Tucson—I'm still only twenty-seven years old. Got it, everyone?"

  "It's like the picture of Dorian Gray," Denny explained, coming forward and pointing to his head. "Her sins graying my hair."

  There was some polite laughter.

  "I also want to introduce you to the creative brains behind the show," Jessica continued. "The woman who keeps us fresh and entertaining and informative, Alicia Washington." Alicia stepped forward and murmured a shy hello.

  "For those of you with kids who want to know how Alicia got started in the business," Jessica said, moving over to put her arm around Alicia, "I've got six words of advice—type fast and give good phone."

  People chuckled.

  "You think I'm kidding. Well, I'm not. And you can save your kids a lot of disappointment if you set them straight right from the beginning. Alicia graduated from NYU with all kinds of fancy awards, but she started here at DBS as my secretary—as almost every other successful media person in the business did and does. Communications and mass media are apprenticeship businesses. When you go next door, ask Alexandra how she started her brilliant career. Which was, incidentally," she added, leaning forward, "mopping floors at a California radio station."

  People laughed, but Jessica only smiled. "Oh, you
'll see," she told them. "Just don't be shocked when your kid's first job pays less than one semester's tuition at that fancy school you sent him or her to."

  "How about you, Jessica?" someone asked. "How did you get started?"

  "Oh, man, I knew someone was going to ask me that," she groaned, provoking more laughter. "Actually, I got my start because Denny here asked me to fill in as a host on a public affairs TV show in Tucson. I was twenty-one years old and as crazy as a loon and I was an undergraduate at the U of A—that's University of Arizona. No one watched this public affairs show. No one. It was on UHF, and the only reason anyone could get the station in the first place was because they had to have cable in the valley—they couldn't get TV signals over the mountains otherwise—and so the UHF station was thrown into the package. Anyway, we soon found out that at least one person had been watching that particular night, the night I was substituting—" She squinted and looked at Denny. "Wasn't that the night I fell backward off the set in my chair?"

  Laughter.

  "Almost," Denny said, increasing the laughter.

  "Yeah, I thought so." To the group, "Seriously, this was a major problem for me in those days, not falling off the set. I was crocked. I mean, most everybody knows—it's no secret—I don't drink at all anymore, and haven't for several years. But back then those high ratings were coming at a high price—" She rolled her eyes.

  Alicia whispered something in Jessica's ear. "Oh, gosh, you're right," Jessica said, turning back to the group. "Listen, my autobiography is being published in a few weeks and the whole sordid story is in there. The nice part is, it is a story of recovery, so your customers will like it. No boycotts because of it, I promise."

  Nervous laughter this time. "We'll be sending each of you a complimentary copy," Langley added.

  "Hey! No way!" Jessica said. "Everybody's got to buy it. These guys make lots of money!"

  "We're buying copies," Langley told her. "DBS is."

  "Oh, well, that's all right then." To the group, "Okay, so you've got your beach reading all lined up for you. And by the way, there is an appendix in the book—it's called, 'So You Want To Work In TV' and I give every piece of advice I know that works. So, if you know anybody that wants to work in TV, you can loan them your copy."

  "Don't you want those people to buy the book too?" someone asked.

  "Are you kidding?" Jessica asked. "Nobody starting out in television has any money! Later, maybe, but certainly not in the beginning." She turned to Denny. "What did you pay me in the early days? Wampum and firewater, wasn't it?"

  Cassy climbed up on the set. "Okay, everyone, Langley and I are going to take you on to Studio A now, to the set of 'DBS News America Tonight.' "

  "But just remember, people," Jessica said, "I am the jewel in the crown." To Cassy, "They'll take one look at old Alexandra Eyes and forget all about me."

  The group laughed.

  "Hardly," the man from P&G said.

  More laughter.

  "At any rate," Cassy said, "after we visit DBS News, we'll be heading upstairs to the corporate dining room where Jessica and Alexandra will be joining us for lunch. So if you have any more questions for Jessica, you'll have an opportunity to talk with her then."

  The group moved on, though many reluctantly; they wanted to stay and chat with Jessica, sit on her set, just hang out, she could tell. Good sign.

  Once the executives were out of the studio and the doors were closed behind them, Jessica let out a sigh of relief and plunked down to sit on the edge of the set. "Air-raid sirens off."

  "That went very well," Denny said.

  "I don't know why I have to be introduced," Alicia sighed, sitting down next to Jessica. "They could care less about me."

  Jessica looked at her. "Because you're the heart of the show, doll-face. And the soul. Get it?"

  "So what does that make me?" Denny wanted to know.

  "Management, baby, always and forever management," Jessica answered, and they laughed.

  "Hey, while I've got both of you here," Denny said, "I want you to see the tape on Roger Jard."

  "I don't care what you guys say," Jessica said, getting up, "I don't want to have that sleazebag on."

  Today's guest, said sleazebag in question, was a popular actor making his first appearance since being caught on video slugging a woman in the face.

  "He's not really such a sleaze, though," Alicia said. "I keep telling you, he's been in a rehab kicking booze and drugs ever since he hit that woman."

  "All the more reason not to have him on," Jessica said. "What the hell does he know about staying sober yet?"

  "Well, that's just the point," Alicia said quickly. "You do. So who better to guide him through his first public interview? And make sure audiences get it?"

  Jessica smiled suddenly, and threw her arms around Alicia, giving her a hug. "I love you, you know that?" she asked her as they followed Denny across the studio toward the control room. "You are so smart. That never occurred to me. Finally I can straighten out one of these guys on the air, instead of sitting there wanting to throw a shoe through the screen at their b.s. on another talk show."

  "I've got it cued up," Denny began as he pushed the control-room door open. But then he stopped suddenly, making the women nearly pile into him. "What the hell?"

  "What?" Jessica said, peering past him.

  It was the weirdest thing. In the control room, in back of the director's chair at the console, there was a small oblong gift-wrapped package—hanging in midair.

  "Is it on a string?" Alicia said as the three slowly approached it.

  "I don't think so," Denny said, drawing closer.

  It looked as though it might be a jeweler's box, containing a bracelet or watch. There was a tiny gift card dangling from the ribbon, turning in the air current they had created by opening the door from the studio.

  Denny turned around. "Jessica, Alicia, both of you, stay back there."

  "Why?"

  "Just stand back, Jess, out the door. Just for a minute."

  Jessica and Alicia moved just outside the control room, but Jessica kept the door open to watch. "It must be on a thread, how can it just hang in the air like that?"

  Denny reached toward the present, hesitated and then took hold of it. Effortlessly he brought it back to him. "No string, no thread. Just a gentle pull. It must be—"

  "Trying putting it back," Jessica said.

  He did. And when he released the box, it dipped an inch or two in the air, bobbed a bit, steadied and hung there, in the air, slowly turning.

  "Welcome to 'Star Trek Voyager/" Jessica muttered, coming back into the control room.

  "Or 'Bewitched,'" Alicia said.

  Denny pulled the package back to hold it in his hand and then put it back again. It did the same thing, bouncing down and up and settling, finally, still, in midair. He looked up at the ceiling and down at the floor. He squatted and held his hand under the package—almost immediately it dropped to the floor. "It's some sort of magnetic field."

  "What does the tag say?" Jessica asked.

  Denny read it, and then abruptly stood up, leaving the package on the floor. "I'm calling Dirk."

  Jessica bent over to reach for it.

  "No!" Denny shouted, lunging back to prevent her from touching the package. "Just leave it there until we know what's in it."

  While Denny called Dirk, Jessica turned her head so she could read what was on the enclosure card.

  For my precious Jessica,

  With all my love, Leopold

  5

  “And where the hell were you?" Dirk yelled at Slim, Jessica's bodyguard.

  “He was waiting in my dressing room where we told him to wait because we didn't want bodyguards scaring away our sponsors!" Jessica snapped.

  Actually, she had no idea what had happened to Slim, but she had gotten kind of attached to the guy and didn't want him to lose his job.

  "I wasn't talking to you, Jessica," Dirk said.

  "I am sp
eaking to you," she said, "so lay off him. If you've got a problem, your problem's with me—and the job I have to do so DBS can pay your stupid paycheck. Got it?"

  "I'm trying to protect your life so I can get that stupid paycheck," he snarled back. "Got it?"

  "Hey, hey, let's turn the volume down a bit, shall we?" Langley suggested. The package left in the control room of Studio B now lay disassembled on his desk. Cassy was standing by the window, silent, arms crossed over her chest. "And Jessica," he began.

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jessica muttered, throwing herself down in a chair and crossing her legs. "He's just doing his job." She sighed heavily and turned around. "Dirk, I apologize for speaking to you that way. I just want you to stop picking on Slim. I haven't been out of his sight in twenty-four hours. He's doing a fabulous job—and there was no reason for him to be in the control room because even I didn't know I was going in there."

  "And that was my fault," Denny offered. ''It never occurred to me anyone had been in there. I mean—how?"

  That's what they were all wondering. How the heck had the stalker not only gotten into West End again, but down below ground level into the control room?

  "Look, Jessica," Dirk said, stepping closer to her, "I am frankly scared about what can happen to you." He paused for effect. "And Slim knows that he could have cost you your life by not being there."

  Jessica rolled her eyes; she couldn't help it. "Right, my stalker's a vice president at Procter & Gamble."

  "He very well could be."

  "Get a life, Dirk," Jessica said, grimacing. "I've been dealing with stalkers for a lot longer than you've been here."

  "Oh yeah? Well, I was dealing with stalkers who killed their victims long before you blew into town, babe. So if you're content to just let this guy waltz in and out of West End, until you displease him and he kills you, then fine, I'm all for it. Just as long as I get my paycheck."

  Jessica looked at Langley. "I think Dirk's the stalker."

  "That's it, Langley!" the security expert yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "How can I possibly work with her!"

  As the argument escalated, Langley looked down at the enclosure card that lay on his desk in a plastic bag.