Lady Be Bad (23 page)

“Number one!” Vikki’s kohl-rimmed eyes
widened. “I – I hadn’t realized the ratings book had come out.”

A Cheshire-cat grin spread Jerry’s mouth; his
arms crossed complacently over his chest. “I’m going to tell the
entire cast and crew later this evening after the final taping.
Only eighteen months on the air and courtesy of a super satellite,
number one in the country whether it’s daytime or primetime! And
now
Always Tomorrow
is going primetime.”

At Vikki’s arched brow, Jerry continued. “I
just learned that next month on Valentine’s Day, the show is
repeating every night from the beginning, with On-Demand paid
downloads. Residuals, baby, residuals. You’ll be able to send all
your nieces and nephews to college, make your parents retire in
style and establish one helluva nest egg for yourself.”

She took a deep breath. “Wow, this is more
than I ever imagined.”

Conversation was halted when the bow-tied
waiter brought their luncheon order. The young man’s hand
noticeably shook when he placed the steaming liquid appetizer and
salad in front of Vikki. The waiter continued to hover,
straightening unused silverware, adding water to untouched
ice-filled goblets, dusting nearly invisible crumbs from the
pristine white cloth until a superior’s peremptory voice hailed
him.

Jerry’s grin broadened even further, his hand
smoothed graying blond hair that grew thick despite an
ever-receding hairline. “I love it!”

Vikki looked up, her spoon continuing to
pierce the tight seal of mozzarella cheese that blanketed the
savory onion broth. “Love what?”

“You still don’t take it in, do you?” At her
bewildered expression, Jerry exhaled a patient sigh. “You, Victoria
Kirkland, are lusted after by ninety percent of the male
population. According to TV Guide, various soap magazines, the
internet and a small notation in
Time
, you are currently the
most scheming, manipulative woman on TV, who is seldom found in
anything but a horizontal position and whose torrid, uncensored
cable love scenes make regular and even premier network officials
pale and envious.”

“You’re describing Vixen Mallory, Jerry,”
Vikki countered. “She’s the one who has been married four times,
murdered her last two husbands and was never caught, had three
abortions, has been raped, kidnapped and enslaved, seduced her
stepson and minister, succeeded in driving her sister-in-law insane
…” She drew a deep, chastising breath. “You had the nerve to say I
looked tired!”

Their joint laughter caused the surrounding
patrons’ heads to turn. Again, Vikki fell victim to whispers and
questionable glances. Shifting in nervous discomfort, she reached
for a calming mouthful of mineral water.

“All humility aside —“ Jerry paused to blow
across the spoonful of steaming soup, “—this plan of mine has
worked out brilliantly. I’ve kept the entire cast, writers, and
crew in a cloak of mystery for the last year and a half, letting
the news media’s imagination run wild with titillating stories
leaked here and there. Fans are chomping at the proverbial bit to
read, see, and hear anything about
Always Tomorrow
.”

He rubbed his hands together in a savoring
gesture. “Vikki, this is going to be
the
year.” Jerry’s
index finger stabbed the air. “
Your
year. Do you know your
fan mail has jumped to ten thousand letters a week? We’ve stopped
counting the emails.”

“I’m afraid to ask how many are death
threats.”

“None! Vikki –“ he twisted the gold nugget
ring on his pinky “—the women of America admire your strength, your
spirit. Vixen Mallory goes after what she wants. Nothing and no one
gets in her way. She spits at sentimentality.” Jerry’s expression
was serious. “While the men may lust and fantasize about being
seduced by Vixen, women fantasize too. They want to be Vixen.
They’re tired of being victims; they want to stir things up and
take what they want without a twinge of conscience.”

Vikki opened her mouth but once again, the
public relations man’s voice interrupted. “Vixen Mallory is going
to be number one this year. The billboard and the mink ads are just
a warm up. This hits the newsstands today.” Jerry handed her the
January issue of
Playboy
. “Peter Finch’s camera lens loves
you. He’s going to be the photographer on next week’s Vixen perfume
ads.”

Blue eyes briefly inspected the glossy pages
of the fabled men’s magazine. Vikki silently wondered how her
parents would take to this latest publicity gimmick. Maybe the
magazine wasn’t sold aboard they cruise ship they were on in the
South Pacific. “This will definitely cause a commotion.” She drew a
deep breath, her brother’s would never stop razzing her now.

“It had better or I’m out of a job!” With a
satisfied smile, Jerry spread chocolate butter on warm, fresh
bread. “You know, Vikki, you’ve been one helluva good sport about
doing all this.” He shook his head. “I remember the all-night
session the cast and I had talking you into being the show’s main
focus.”

She stared at the salad, her fork spearing a
vinaigrette-glossed potato and anchovy. “I’d do anything for them.
They’re top-rate professionals, all of them. Besides being twenty
of the most wonderful human beings I have ever met.” Vikki’s eyes
locked into Jerry’s. “We are a family, working eighteen to twenty
hours a day on a labor of love.

“We both know Vixen Mallory was a fluke, an
accident. I was the associate producer on an up-and-coming cable
soap and one day an extra didn’t show. I just happened to have a
union card and could fit into the slinky dress that was in the
wardrobe department. I knew nothing about acting.”

Jerry swallowed a mouthful of lettuce. “As I
recall, all you did was sit in a chair, cross those long legs and
begin to unbutton the dress.” One brown eye gave a broad wink.
“Face it, Vikki, you’re a natural talent.” He tapped the cover of
Playboy
. ”You photograph beautifully. You convey more with
those wicked blue eyes and pouty lips than an army of trained
professionals.”

Vikki stared at the magazine for a long time,
a myriad of memories clicking through her mind. Suddenly a very
vixenish laugh bubbled from her throat. “I’d love to get my hands
on two hundred and twelve issues.”

“Well, I – I suppose I can get them.” He
blotted his lips. “I know you have a big family but …”

“Not family, Jerry. That’s how many kids were
in my high school graduation class.” At his baffled expression, she
continued. “Let’s be brutally honest for a moment. Without the
designer wardrobe I’ve been fitted into and allowed to use, without
the considerable talents of the studio makeup man and hairdresser,
precision lighting, and practiced camera angles, I’m just a plain
Jane.”

Her upraised palm halted his sputtered
interruption. “You are promoting a girl who was twenty pounds
overweight all through high school and college, who kept Clearasil
in business and nearly developed curvature of the spine from trying
to hide breasts that developed in the fifth grade.” Vikki’s lips
twisted against remembered adolescent cruelties.

“I just never fit in. I was totally opposite
of whatever the current style was. I was over developed and had
curls.” Her long fingers pulled against the cascade of hair that
tumbled against her shoulders. “My father came home early from work
and caught me ironing my hair. I can still feel that beating. My
four brothers claim they don’t recognize me without the giant
purple rollers I wore twenty hours a day trying to straighten out
this Shirley Temple mop.

“I never had a date all through high school.
I missed the junior prom and the boy I asked to the senior ball
turned me down. College, well …” she licked full lips. “That was
all work and no play until I met Gregg. He saw the woman that had
been hiding in me; he goaded, teased, nurtured, and loved me, but
then –“ her voice faltered “— he was taken away.”

Vikki’s chin tilted downward, her gaze
concentrated on the magazine. “I’d dearly love to send two hundred
and twelve issues out with a big:
So there
! Scrawled on each
cover!”

Long scarlet-tipped fingers curved around her
glass, lifting in a toasting gesture. “Here’s to a dynamite year
for you, continued number one status for
Always Tomorrow
and
–“ Vikki favored Jerry with a wide-eyed glance and disarming smile
“— here’s to Video Vixen, the lady who’s given me the best year of
my life and who made turning thirty a prime number!” Their glasses
clicked to a simultaneous “amen.”

“I am very glad your attitude has changed,
Vikki. You were a little …um…pigheaded about accepting any of these
fashion layouts and cosmetic contracts.”

“Awed and overwhelmed,“ she rectified. “It’s
a new experience for me to be wanted for my…body.”

Jerry aimed a butter-smeared knife at her.
“You really are a natural in front of any camera. Stick with me,
kid, and you’ll have fame and fortune.”

Her empty soup bowl was pushed to one side.
“The fortune part is heavenly. I’m earning more in one day than I
ever did in a month. I’m also enjoying giving back to my parents a
little fun they so richly deserve and to my brothers and their
families and charity. But the fame –“ Vikki’s eyebrows arched “—I’m
a realist. Fame is fleeting. Fifteen minutes, isn’t it? But I’ll
have some fun.” She gave a low laugh. “Those phantom writers in
their Mt. Olympus office towers may decide to –“ her index finger
sliced across her throat “— eliminate the scheming villainess.”

“Not unless your fan mail drops below five
hundred a week,” came his dry quip. “Seriously, Vik, on screen or
off, you handle yourself like a pro. The hierarchy loves the fact
that Vixen Mallory is no vacuous cupcake.”

Her fork toyed with a black olive, batting it
back and forth across the nearly empty salad plate. “They have real
stars to thank for that. Turning Vikki into Vixen took the combined
talents of everyone involved. It took a lot of perseverance to
teach this rank amateur about voice inflection, movement, presence,
and hundreds of other essentials.” Vikki exhaled a trapped breath.
“I’m smart enough to realize this is just an event in my life, not
a career, and when all this melts, I’m lucky enough to have a
master’s degree in broadcasting to fall back on.”

A gold napkin wiped thin lips. “Nothing is
going to melt –“ Jerry nodded toward the restaurants full wall of
ice-crystal-etched windows “—especially in this rotten January
weather. I have a few plans to map out for the next onslaught of
publicity. How would you feel about letting that new CNN talk show
host take a crack at an hour with Vixen?”

“I noticed you said
Vixen
not
Vikki.”

“Image, baby, image. You think the public is
going to want to hear that you live in a converted carriage house
in Connecticut, like to do needlepoint and crewel, put up fresh jam
and bake bread?” Jerry’s tone issued a stern warning

“Being Victoria Kirkland anyplace else but in
the safety and confines of your own home is the kiss of death. No
one wants to hear how ‘nice’ you are. That you have great parents,
four terrific brothers, love schnauzers and work at the local level
for stiffer drunk-driving laws.”

“But..but…Jerry!” She sputtered in abject
alarm. “That is me. Vikki is real. Vixen is not.”

“But..but…” he mimicked, “the fans don’t put
a great deal of distance between the actress and the character.
They expect you to
be
Vixen. Expect, hell! They demand
it.”

Elbows on the table, Jerry’s voice lost its
biting edge. “Let me share a few facts with you, Vikki. While the
major networks have cancelled some of their long running soaps, the
few that are left are still pulling in big bucks and sponsors.
Nighttime dramas are coming back; reality shows are waning.

“But soap fever bubbles in big city bars,
office buildings and on college campuses. The Hispanic telanovellas
are booming and the internet network download sites bring in
viewers from around the world.

“Soaps are well-written and carefully
conceived to make people aware of a variety of problems, and how
and where to get help and cope with those problems. Despite reality
shows, characters and story lines become extended families to
viewers. Cults develop.” Jerry’s brown eyes narrowed.

“Those cults are for Vixen Mallory, not Vikki
Kirkland. Vixen’s the character they connect with, cheer at, cry
with, swear at, hate, and love. Vixen is it. Preserve Vixen. Shield
her. When the credits roll, Vixen Mallory is the name that is
shown. Don’t let anyone or anything destroy her.”

A shiver coursed along Vikki’s spine despite
the opulent warmth provided by the black mink. “I guess this
Vixen’s a virgin when it comes to knowing the public’s reaction. I
just assumed everyone realizes that the characters on
Always
Tomorrow
are pure fantasy. Now I’m scared.”

“Good.” He relaxed against the leather-backed
dining chair, opening the single button of his charcoal suit
jacket. “I want you to be on guard twenty-four-seven. You are a hot
ticket that I intend to keep at the boiling point.”

Playing Vixen during non-working hours was
going to require a more intense acting talent, Vikki rationalized
with silent contemplation. As it was, her soap role consumed
eighteen to twenty hours a day, adding in the newly acquired
cosmetic contract, upcoming interviews, and personal appearances,
Victoria Kirkland would disappear. Would that be so bad?

That dealer of deleterious deeds, Vixen, had
propelled Vikki further than she had ever dreamed. Why not sit
back, relax, and let that vivid, vital vamp reap a few rewards? At
least for a while.

After examining the check, Jerry ripped off
the receipt and tossed a collection of bills on the table. “Why
don’t we share a cab? I’ll drop you off at the studio before I head
over to my office. I have a few irons in the fire that need a
gourmet’s touch. I’ll be in to talk to the cast, crew, and writers
after the final taping, around nine tonight.”