Falling Star (9 page)

He rolled through the first section of
Natalie's resume reel, a video showcase of her best on-air work. If
he was going to embark on a serious job hunt, Natalie should
freshen the reel with new material, like the live shot from the
collapsed 210 freeway. Nothing deadened news director interest like
an antique reel. The tape began with quick cuts of Natalie
anchoring, in the studio and from the field. Geoff lingered over
some segments, smiling, jotting down notes. A good bit of it he
knew by heart. He also knew the reel was already as good as reels
got.

Still, he made his way painstakingly through
the second section, Natalie reporting. He smiled with recognition.
There she was in front of the L.A. County Courthouse in a gray
pin-striped suit, doing a stand-up amid shouting crowds just after
the not-guilty verdict in the O. J. Simpson criminal trial. And
there she was in Kobe, next to a collapsed Japanese-style house,
reporting on the aftermath of the massive earthquake. Her blond
hair wasn't in the elegant twist she maintained in studio, but
blowing about her face. She looked lovely, he thought, but
tired.

He remembered how she'd returned to LA. from
Kobe exhausted and promptly lost her voice. She was off the air for
a few days and hating life. He'd gone to her house with a jar of
honey and a few herbal teas and brewed her a sample of each and
every one. She was in leggings and a flannel shirt, he remembered.
It was the first time he'd ever seen her in anything but a
suit.

He smiled at the recollection. Which tea had
she liked best? Yes, Licorice Spice. He made a note. She could use
a pick-me-up. He'd messenger a box to the station.

His intercom buzzed. "Janet on line one."

Janet. He hesitated before picking up the
phone. "Hi." He cleared his throat. "Hi."

"Honey, are you okay? You sound a little
under the weather."

"No, no, I'm fine." He kept his eyes trained
on Natalie's flickering videotaped image but made an effort to
enliven his voice. "So how was your day?"

"Fun! We took the summer schoolers to the zoo
and they went wild, especially at the penguins. One wetting, one
vomiting, only two crying fits. Not the penguins, the kids."

Janet laughed and Geoff listened
absentmindedly as she continued to describe the outing. He could
just imagine her tending to the ragtag band of six-year-olds.
Wiping faces and behinds with equal equanimity, straight blond hair
falling about her laughing face. She was one of the few blondes in
southern California whose color didn't come out of a bottle.

"Geoff, are you still there?"

"Yup. Still here." He cleared his throat and
forced himself to pause the VCR. "So what are you up to now?"

"I was thinking I might drop by your office,
see if I could tempt you away from work for a little while. I
packed a picnic basket." Her voice dipped to a lower register. "We
don't even have to go out."

He grinned. Code language, though he knew it
was more a tease than a true intention. "Why, Miss Janet Roswell,
you have my full attention."

She giggled. "I hope to have more than that
before long."

"How fast can you get here?"

"About an hour."

"See you then." He rang off. Janet. He
slapped his mahogany desk firmly. Janet. She was perfect for him.
He'd done the starlet thing, more times than he could count. He was
over it.

But Janet? She was wonderful. Stunningly
beautiful, athletic, from a great family. In a town of fakes, she
was the real thing.

And it was time. For both of them. They'd
been dating on and off for two years now and Janet was a few months
shy of her thirtieth birthday. Though she was far too well bred to
start issuing ultimatums, he knew if he didn't act soon, he could
lose her. And as for himself? He was thirty-seven, he'd made senior
partner, and even his younger brother Russell had married and
fathered a child. It was time.

He unlocked the narrowest of his desk drawers
and extracted a small eggshell-blue Tiffany box. Inside was an even
smaller black velvet box.

He opened it carefully.

Diamonds twinkled in the afternoon sunshine
glinting through his windows. One large emerald-cut stone,
encircled by smaller circular stones. All beautifully massed on a
gold band.

He sat for a moment, thinking. Then he
snapped shut the velvet lid and tucked the box away, carefully
locking the drawer. He punched a button on the remote and out
popped the tape from the VCR. What had she said her favorite
restaurant was?

Recollection struck. That's right. Four
Oaks.

He called directory assistance, then the
restaurant, forgoing his habit of having his secretary make all the
necessary arrangements. Yes, he told the maitre d', he'd like an
8:30 seating on Saturday. Yes, and a corner table in the parlor. He
preordered a bottle of La Grande Dame Veuve Clicquot 1990, his
current favorite, which must be delivered chilled to their table
the instant they arrived.

He rang off and smiled. He'd put on a
wonderful birthday celebration. Natalie would love it.

*

Kelly decided the smart thing was to show up
early at Tony's office for the meeting with the Manns and their
attorney. The smart thing, since they were threatening to sue her
butt to kingdom come, was to be on her best behavior. She knew she
freaked out everybody at the station the second she showed up
because she sure wasn't dressed like usual. Instead of her normal
work outfit of short skirt and chunky heels, she'd bought a boxy
black two-piece suit that even Ruth might have plucked off the
sales rack. With almost no makeup, flat heels, and opaque tights,
Kelly knew she could pass for a Sunday school teacher.

That might be something Howard would enjoy,
come to think of it.

She shot out of her chair the instant the
Manns appeared at Tony's office, breaking the first rule he'd given
her. She wasn't supposed to do anything, say anything, unless Tony
asked her something straight out. But she'd thought about it and
decided her way was better. So now, her features all serious, she
held out her hand. "Good afternoon." She tried hard to sound
sincere. "I'm Kelly Devlin."

She knew Susan and Eric Mann would have to
shake her hand if she kept holding it out and sure enough they did.
So did their attorney. Kelly gave him a once-over, though even if
she hadn't seen his TV ads she'd know right off he was an ambulance
chaser. Talk about a cheap suit. She went back to her chair, but
not before directing all three to Tony's plaid couch, the best seat
in the house.

Tony, Howard, Ruth, and Blaine Nance, KXLA's
senior attorney, went through the same greeting ritual she had.
They barely sat back down again before Kelly started her prepared
speech.

"Please allow me to offer the condolences of
all of us here at KXLA on the tragic loss of your son," she said,
as though she were leading the meeting. She felt everybody's eyes
on her, Tony's probably ready to bust out of their sockets.

"Well said, Kelly." That came from Tony, who
then gave her a look that said, plain as day,
Shut the hell
up!

But both Manns got all teary and Kelly
noticed that the missus looked like any second she might crack. She
had on a navy-blue polyester pants suit and a gold cross at her
throat, and was clutching a balled-up tissue in her wrinkled right
hand like it was a life preserver. Eric looked like a foreman a few
years away from his pension.

Tony cleared his throat. "Mr. and Mrs. Mann,
first of all I would like to apologize for the poor judg—"

"Mr. Scoppio," Kelly interrupted. "Please let
me."

Ruth scowled at her. "Kelly, this is not
the—"

"Please, Ms. Sperry, Mr. Scoppio." She made
her voice sound pleading and stared right at Susan and Eric Mann
like they were the only people in the room.

"Yes, please," Eric Mann said. "My wife and I
are very curious to hear what this young lady has to say for
herself."

Kelly hesitated long enough to where it
started to feel really dramatic. "I've done a great deal of . . .
praying since the tragedy." She let her voice break. "And God
Almighty has shown me the error of my ways."

Even though nobody said a damn thing, Kelly
could sense the emotions that coursed through her listeners:
incredulity from Howard, astonishment from Ruth and Elaine,
suspicion from the vulture attorney, curiosity from the bereaved
pair.

And, she didn't think she got it wrong,
admiration from Tony Scoppio.

She raised her eyes, which by now were
brimming with tears. "I know now that I erred grievously in airing
that video and in failing to report accurately on your son's tragic
death. God showed me that I was caught up in television's perverted
desire for high drama but that it came at your family's expense. I
have been so terribly unfair." She made a choking sound and let a
tear spill down her cheek. She'd practiced that for half an hour
the night before. "Though I know I don't deserve it, I have begged
for God's forgiveness. And now I plead for yours."

"Now wait just a minute." The vulture
attorney sprang to his feet. But by this time Kelly was on her
knees, sobbing into the blue polyestered lap of Mrs. Susan Mann.
The older woman was stroking Kelly's hair and shaking like she had
palsy.

"I didn't know we were dealing here with a
young woman who's found the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ," Eric
Mann began hesitantly. "Maybe we can work this whole mess out
without going to court."

Kelly took that opening to sob louder.

"I don't see—"

"I agree with you, Eric." Tony cut off the
Manns' attorney. "Maybe this'll do?"

Elaine passed over a sheet of paper that
Kelly knew all about from the talk she'd had beforehand with Tony.
Typed on it was a single four-digit number. Basically, the payoff.
She knew the Manns' attorney would figure out his forty-percent
commission PDQ.

Kelly reared up from Susan Mann's lap, on
which her tears had left a wet spot. "I'd like us all to join hands
in prayer." She held out both arms like a preacher and raised her
eyes to heaven. "Father above," she began, ad-libbing wildly. And
it wasn't that easy a trick to keep from busting out laughing when
everybody around her was forced to kneel down. She kept on winging
it, thinking this had to be the first prayer group ever to meet in
the news director's office at KXLA Channel 12 Los Angeles.

*

"Hey, Daniels," Tony said hours later when
Natalie entered his office. He watched as she arranged herself on
the chair in front of his desk. "What can I do for you this fine
evening?" He was feeling expansive now that the Manns had been
ushered off the lot. No way they'd file suit now. Kelly might be a
real piece of work, she might break every rule, but she sure as
hell came through in the clutch.

"You can agree to let me anchor Monday's
newscast from a remote location," Natalie said. "The collapsed
section of the 210."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because it's newsworthy. My sources tell me
that the revised damage estimates are coming out Monday and they're
going to be higher than anyone's expecting. And of course it's the
one-week anniversary. Two strong hooks. And remotes, if they're
well promoted, are good for the ratings."

"That's right." He dragged out "right" and
rubbed his chin theatrically. "I vaguely recall you saying
something about how you expect the numbers to go up."

"Give it a rest, Tony."

He eyed her. She was feistier than usual.
Seemed pissed off, maybe. But he liked it. Made her more fun to
joust with.

He consulted his watch. "It's now 7:15 PM on
Friday. How do you propose to set this up for Monday?"

"I'll do it myself over the weekend."

"You won't get any overtime budget."

"I'm not asking for any. But I do expect
extra freelance crew Monday night. And reasonable promotion."

He rubbed his chin again. Who was to say what
was "reasonable"? The boss. Tony Scoppio.

He grinned. "You must think the numbers need
a real push—that's all I can figure. Our little chat the other day
scare you, Daniels?"

She made a scoffing sound but it wasn't
convincing. "Hardly. This is simply a case in which anchoring from
a remote location is both newsworthy and good television. It's a
combo I like."

It was also a combo that was damn hard to
pull off on short notice. Over a weekend, no less. But hell, if he
gave Princess enough rope, she just might hang herself.

Save him the trouble.

"Fine," he said. "But Ken stays in studio. I
want backup in case of technical problems."

"There won't be any technical problems." She
stood up. "And promotion?"

"I'll call Willa."

She nodded and walked out.

Confident broad, wasn't she? Tony stroked his
chin. But hey—it was his favorite kind of situation. Somebody else
did the work and he got the higher numbers.

*

Natalie sat at the rosewood desk in her
study, the phone at her ear, dressed in her Saturday-at-home
uniform of leggings and baggy sweatshirt. She gazed out the
west-facing windows as the setting sun cast a pink glow over the
Hollywood Hills and forced herself to listen one more time to the
same no-can-do excuse she'd been hearing from TV techies all
day.

"Sorry, I'm booked Monday."

"Thanks, anyway." The guy didn't sound sorry.
She crossed his name off the list. 26 down, 2 to go. And no
question she'd need at least one more warm body to pull off the
remote Monday night.

"Call me if something else comes up," he
said.

"Right." Natalie hung up. Unbelievable.
Clearly the best gig in town was TV techie. She sipped her rapidly
cooling licorice tea and surveyed her list.

She was now down to truly obscure
freelancers. People she'd never worked with before. People next to
whose names Ruth had drawn little red question marks. People she
didn't know from Adam on whom she'd have to rely to make the remote
work.