Welcome to the World, Baby Girl! (15 page)

After the dinner, as they were walking out, J.C. said, “By the way, we have an invitation to the reception for Kingsley upstairs.”

“What reception?”

“It’s a small, private reception that Jeanette Rockefeller is having for a few friends.” J.C. was a fund-raiser and knew a great many people. She did not want to go.

“Why not?”

“I won’t know any of them. I’m not a friend of his; he might think I’m too pushy or something.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be silly. Jeanette is a friend of mine. Come on.”

“You go and I’ll wait for you.”

But J.C. would not take no for an answer and five minutes later she found herself upstairs in a suite, at a party with the heads of all three networks, including Julian Amsley, the man who ran hers. She was horrified when he looked over and saw her. Oh, God, she thought, now he’s going to think I’m some gate-crasher, but he nodded pleasantly at her. After about thirty minutes of trying to hide in a corner, Dena watched Jeanette Rockefeller approach and start to pull everyone over to meet the guest of honor. Now Dena stood in line with J.C. and wanted to drop right through the floor. She watched as Howard Kingsley came closer, shaking each person’s hand and saying a few words, and at last when Dena was introduced,
she had an almost uncontrollable desire to curtsy. But she managed to look calm and say, “Congratulations, sir, I enjoyed your speech.” Howard looked at her with a slight little smile, and with a nod of his head said, “Thank you very much, young lady.” As she started to move away he said, “Oh, by the way, Miss Nordstrom, I caught the Hamilton piece. Good work. Let’s have lunch sometime.”

Dena managed an “Oh, thank you,” just as the hostess steered forward another guest.

Had she heard right? Had he actually said, “Good work, let’s have lunch,” or was she hallucinating? Maybe she misunderstood; he had really said, “Bad work, hated it a bunch.” J.C. was still behind her and Dena grabbed him by the arm. “Did you hear him say, ‘Let’s have lunch’?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I was standing right there.”

“Oh, my God … what do you think he wants?”

J.C. laughed. “What do you think he wants? He wants to tell you, you are the most talented and brilliant woman in New York.”

“Don’t be silly. Did he really say, ‘Good work’?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think that means?”

“It means he thought you did good work.”

“And he really said it?”

“Yes, Dena. Am I going to have to carry a tape recorder around to gather all these little kudos from now on?”

“No, it’s just that you never figure that someone like him would be watching me. I mean, I’m a silly little fill-in interviewer.”

When they got into the cab Dena said, “Oh, let’s don’t go home, I’m too excited to go home. Let’s go to Sardi’s.”

All the way across town, Dena kept talking. “I still can’t believe it. You know, J.C., I never told you but he’s been sort of a hero of mine.”

“You told me.”

“I did? Well, it really would have been enough just to go to the dinner—but to actually meet him …”

J.C. chuckled. He enjoyed seeing her excitement.

“Don’t laugh, J.C., it’s true. Haven’t you ever had someone you looked up to, wanted to be like?”

“Yes, Hugh Hefner.”

“Oh, you’re being silly. But really, aren’t you surprised one little bit that he was so nice?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I already knew he wanted to meet you.”

“How?”

“He had to approve the guest list. And he said he especially wanted you there.”

Dena screamed, “J.C., I could just kill you. Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me make a fool of myself? I could have rehearsed something to say, instead of ‘Congratulations, I enjoyed your speech.’ What a dork! Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Because if I had told you, you would have been a nervous wreck and thrown up all over him.”

“What did he say? Did he
say
he wanted to meet me?”

“No, he said, ‘I’d enjoy meeting her.’ ”

“J.C., now this is serious. Tell me the exact words he used … don’t guess.”

“Dena, when he saw your name as a possible guest, he said to Jeanette, and I quote, ‘Yes, I would enjoy meeting her.’ ”

Later at Sardi’s bar, after she had four brandy alexanders, although actually less because she spilled two all over her dress, she looked at J.C. “I wonder what he meant by
enjoy
?”

When she got home she threw her dress down the garbage chute. It was expensive but she didn’t care. She was still on cloud nine. She took a bath and crawled into bed and tried to go to sleep but couldn’t. She wished she had someone to call, someone to tell. It was at times like these, when she was the happiest, that she missed her mother the most.

Dena had managed to resist telling everyone at work what had happened when she met Howard Kingsley and now she was glad. It had been two weeks and she had not heard from him.

Maybe he had forgotten or maybe he said, “Let’s have lunch” to everybody, and why not, she thought. I must tell ten people a day let’s have lunch. And she rarely meant it unless she thought it could do her some good. What a fool she had been, what an egotistical fool, to think he would actually waste time with her. She was nothing but a no-talent jerk with no news experience trying to break into the big time. The phone rang.

“Miss Nordstrom?”

“Yes?”

“This is Howard Kingsley. I was calling to see if you might be free this Thursday for lunch.”

“Oh, ah, um … Thursday. Let me check.…” She pretended to look at her date book and to flip through imaginary pages. “Let’s see, Thursday, Thursday.”

She suddenly stopped the charade. “Oh, who am I kidding, of course I’m free, Mr. Kingsley, and I would love to meet you for lunch.”

Kingsley laughed. “Good. I usually like the Carlyle dining room. It’s quiet and the food’s good. Is that all right with you?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Well, then, Thursday at, say, twelve-thirty?”

“Fine, I’ll be there.”

“Good, looking forward to it.”

“Yes, sir.”

She put down the phone and winced. Why had she said, “Yes, sir”?
He’s going to think I’m an idiot. Remember, he’s just a man, flesh and blood like anybody else.
She noticed her hands were a little wet as she took an aspirin. She didn’t know why she was taking one except that she needed something to do. Then she thought she’d better check and see if she really was free. As if she would not have canceled anyone that day, including the queen of England, or Paul Newman. Well, she would have hated to cancel Paul Newman, but thank heavens she didn’t have to make that choice. She was free.

Thursday finally rolled around eight years later, or so it seemed, and she was talking to herself all the way to the Carlyle. “You have been in this business almost seven years, you’re not an amateur, you’re a grown woman. You are not a child. He is not going to bite you. If you seem nervous you will make him nervous. You look wonderful. You have a peppermint Life Savers in your mouth to ensure wonderful breath, you have no pimples, no blemishes. Your nails are clean, you won’t have a drink unless, of course, he does, then you can order a Bloody Mary … no, that gives you tomato breath. What would be good? Something light but not too wimpy.” Just as she was deciding, the cab jerked to a stop. She was there. She overtipped the driver, finished chewing the last of her Life Savers, took a deep breath, and walked in. The maître d’ saw her at once. “Ah, yes, Miss Nordstrom, Mr. Kingsley is expecting you. Right this way.” He led her all the way to the back corner. The roomful of ladies-who-lunch and businessmen all glanced up and tried not to stare at the great-looking blonde with the great legs. All except a table of six Spanish businessmen, who made absolutely no attempt to be subtle and turned and looked. As she approached, Kingsley stood up and took her hand. “So glad you could make it. I know you must be a busy lady.”

“Well, thank you,” Dena said. “I’m flattered but believe me, I’m not as busy as you may think.”

He smiled. “Enjoy it while you can; you will be soon enough. May I order you a drink?”

She looked to see if he had a drink. He did. She tried to sound casual. “Sure. I’ll take a martini as well.”

“Fine.” He motioned the waiter over. “Jason, bring Miss Nordstrom one of the same.” Then he turned back to her. “I can tell all these men are jealous and all the women whispering because I have such a lovely young lady at my table. It happens every time I take my daughter out, and I must say I enjoy it.”

Dena relaxed as she realized she did not have to worry that he was on the make. He was a gentleman to let her know in such a nice way.

“Mr. Kingsley, I saw your daughter the other night at the dinner and she is a beautiful girl.”

“Thank you. We’re lucky she didn’t take after me and got all her mother’s good looks.”

The waiter brought her martini and she took a big sip before she realized it was gin and not vodka. But she kept smiling pleasantly so that he wouldn’t notice that her eyes were tearing. She had always been a little nearsighted but after one sip she could have read the small print on the menu across the room. He asked her how she had gotten started and where she had worked before. She gave him a short account of the long history of the years and the jobs she had had before New York. They ordered lunch and when they had finished, he ordered coffee for each of them. “I think I mentioned the Hamilton piece to you the other night.”

“Yes, you did.”

He looked straight ahead. Then he cleared his throat. “I understand you sort of went your own way on that piece … broke ranks with the network, so to speak.”

Dena panicked. How did he know?

“Well, I, uh …”

“Charles and Peggy Hamilton are friends of mine.”

“Oh, I see.”

“You realize of course you could have lost your job pulling a stunt like that.”

“I know.”

“It was a foolhardy thing to do at the beginning of your career.”

Dena’s heart sank. She felt ten years old. “Yes, I guess it was.”

“But, personally, I thought it was a damn decent thing to do.”

“You did? I mean, you do?”

He smiled. “Yes. I do.”

“Well, thank you. But to tell you the truth, I really don’t know how decent it was. I think I was just trying to save my own skin without losing my job.”

“You may have been trying to save your own skin, but give yourself credit; you went out of your way to save somebody else’s as well. It was not an easy decision. I’ve been there myself. Whatever your reason, your instincts were correct. You took the high road and it worked.”

“Just barely,” Dena said. “My boss was pretty mad at me. I thought I might get fired there for a while. I can tell you that … he’s pretty tough.”

“Ira Wallace?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

He nodded and said with a weary look on his face, “Oh, yes, I know him.”

Kingsley sat back and seemed to be deciding something. “You know, Miss Nordstrom, I like you, I like what I see. You’ve got style, presence, and you’ve got class. You’re just what they want—but, by God, I just hate to see those bastards get a hold of you.” He grimaced. “But be that as it may, my advice for you is to get every red cent out of them you can because they are going to try and suck the very soul out of you. You gave my friends fair warning, so I’m giving you fair warning. You think you had trouble with the Hamilton piece? That’s just the tip of the iceberg, child’s play to what’s coming. I can smell it, I can feel it, and it makes me sick.” He looked directly at her. “Don’t get me wrong, I believe in freedom of the press. That’s what we’re here for, to get the truth out there to the public. But as soon as someone like Wallace gets in the door, they start to pollute the entire industry and I see it happening more and more every day. They don’t want news, they want audience, and to get it they want ratings and
they don’t care how they get them. But I’m sure you are aware of that.”

“Yes,” said Dena, “I am.”

“I’ve covered three wars and have seen a lot of killing in my time. But this new bunch taking over are the coldest, meanest bastards I’ve seen and frankly, they scare the hell out of me. Mark my words, as soon as they can get rid of all of us old guys they’re going to replace us with as many pretty young men and women, like yourself, to do their dirty work. To push their garbage and trash down everyone’s throats while they hide behind their office doors making millions, laughing at us, while the whole damn country falls apart!”

People in the restaurant were looking over as Kingsley’s voice got louder. When he realized what was happening, he was embarrassed and said softly, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I subjected you to all my rantings. Hell, I’m probably just a senile old fool thinking the worst.”

“Mr. Kingsley, you mustn’t say that. You’re not old or a fool and you have a right to be upset.”

He caught the waiter’s eye and motioned for the check and laughed. “Call me Howard, please. You know, my wife says I should retire. Maybe I should, but I don’t want to hand this medium or this network or this country over to those bastards, not yet anyway. Oh, they’ll get it sooner or later, but until then, somebody has got to keep reminding people we aren’t all the scum they are trying to turn us into.”

“All the more reason why you can never retire. We need you. They sure won’t listen to me.”

He smiled while signing the check. “Miss Nordstrom, I guess what I was trying to say to you is—try not to let them use you too much. Fight back when you can.” He paused. “And don’t hesitate—call me if you need me.”

“Oh, I will. And it’s Dena, please.”

As they walked out, she said, “You know, I really appreciate your talking to me. Truth is, I don’t think I’m going to be offered a new contract. I think I might not have what it takes.”

Howard opened the glass door leading to the street. “Oh, you are
going to get offered a contract, all right. Julian Amsley’s smart enough to know what he’s got and he’s not about to lose you.”

Dena looked at him, dumbfounded.