“I think we should just keep it with the evening team,” Henry pipes in, looking away from me.
“I’d have to agree,” Moriarty the cow says, the crap-eating grin back on her face.
“Well, it was technically Quinn’s idea, so I say if she wants to do it, she can,” Dwayne says.
“Exactly,” Jerry says, but his face is directed at Moriarty.
I feel something like hurt settle in my belly. Why would Henry want to keep it only with the evening team? Is the idea of working that close to me bothersome to him? Has his disinterest in me changed now to distaste?
The hurt feeling quickly changes to something else: anger. I guess he’s going to have to suffer, because I am totally in. A basket full of adorable kittens wouldn’t even be able to keep me away from this. Actually, I’m allergic to cats. A basket full of powdered sugar donuts wouldn’t keep me away from this.
I sit up straighter in my chair, my eyes focused on Henry’s. “I’d love to be part of this,” I say, throwing extra confident tones into my voice.
“Excellent,” Dwayne says.
Next to me, Jerry does a little cheer. I look over to see Moriarty’s eyes finding the ceiling again.
“I’ll let you and Stacey work out the details,” Dwayne says to me. “And you two can work with the interns to nail down everything, as well as your producers. Keep Henry abreast of all the details.” He turns to Henry, who gives him a quick nod. His face has turned from green to something a little more red. Henry does not look happy. This makes me even more confident in my decision.
Except for one tiny little detail . . .
I shake my head, confused. “Wait, so Mor—Stacey and I would be working together?” I say, and my armpits instantly start to sweat like I’ve just finished a marathon.
Dwayne nods. “Yes, I think it would be good to have the both of you on it.”
“But I thought—”
“You want to be a part of this, don’t you?” Dwayne asks me, his eyebrows lowered.
“Yeah . . . yes . . . I just thought . . .” I fumble my words, not sure what to say. I’ve been given a chance to be on the evening news; I should just shut my trap. Even if I have to work with Satan herself.
Moriarty snorts. “Well, this will be loads of fun,” she says, her tone full of sarcasm.
Dwayne looks to Moriarty. “Is there a problem here?” he asks.
“No,” says Moriarty, at the same time I say, “Not at all.”
The room is silent, everyone watching this exchange.
“Excellent,” Dwayne says, his deep bass voice breaking the silence. “Then I look forward to seeing how this all goes.” There’s a definite reprimand in his tone.
I feel my nostrils flare as I give Dwayne a very forced smile.
“You’re welcome,” Jerry leans over and whispers to me.
I have no response. I get a chance to be on the evening news, but it comes at a high price. I’ll be front and center, watching Henry date other women. And the cherry on top? I get to work with Moriarty—something I’ve been lucky enough not to experience in the nearly five years that I’ve been working at this station. I’m not seizing the cupcake here—it’s just been squished into my face.
~*~
“I know what you’re trying to do here,” Moriarty says from behind me in a low, very psychotic-sounding voice.
After the meeting I tried my little slow exiting trick to see if I could once again get Henry alone. Even if it was for a few seconds so I could ask him why he was against me helping out with the feature. I need to know what that was all about. But no such luck. He left quickly, he and Dwayne heading toward their offices. I suppose I could have followed him and talked to him in his office, but I decided against it. Maybe I don’t want to know his reasoning. Maybe I want to live in fairy-tale land where I make believe that the reason Henry didn’t want me on the feature was because he wants me so badly, it would be too hard to work that closely with me.
I swing my chair around, ever so slowly. “I’m sorry?”
I meet Stacey Moriarty’s face, her eyes wide with suspicion. She looks very bug-like. I consider telling her this but then stop myself.
“You’ll never get on the evening news, okay? So just stop trying.”
I fold my arms and look at her. Is she for real? She’s like a villain out of a bad campy movie.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” I say. “I mean, someday, when your skin becomes Botox resistant, they’ll need to replace you.” I give her my best smirk.
Like an automatic reflex, she reaches up and touches her forehead, which hasn’t been able to move since I’ve known her. It’s just frozen in place. “That’s not even a thing,” she says, letting her hand fall.
“I’m pretty sure it is. I read it in Cosmo,” I say. I’m not sure it is, and I haven’t picked up Cosmo magazine in years. “It also said you lose brain cells every time you get injected.”
She smiles mischievously. Dang it—I took it too far. I should have just stopped with the resistant thing. She’s onto me now.
She bends at the waist, leaning toward me, her voice a low whisper. “I’ve worked very hard to get to where I am. And I’m not letting some twenty-something come in and take it away from me. So don’t get too cozy just because you’re going to be working on this feature. Okay?”
I tilt my head to the side. “Are you threatening me?”
She doesn’t say anything. The corners of her mouth lift up slowly until she’s doing a full-on crazy smile.
“What are you doing over here, psycho?” Jerry says as he approaches us. He makes a shooing motion toward Moriarty. “Go back to your side of the turf.”
“Shut up, Jerry,” Moriarty says. “I should have had you fired a long time ago.”
“You tried, remember?” Jerry says, his face tilted upward. “Didn’t work.”
“I’ll try harder,” she says. “I have my ways.”
“Yes, I know about your deal with Satan. Run along now,” he says, waving at her.
She rolls her eyes and walks off in a huff.
“What was she doing over here?”
“Telling me how I won’t get her job.”
Jerry guffaws. “She’s threatened by you. Always has been.”
I lean back in my seat. “I doubt it. Does she really think the station would let go of her with her face everywhere? She’s practically the brand for KCFL.”
“It’s too bad, really. They could have used my face.” He models a couple of poses for me.
“For sure,” I say flatly.
“All right, off with you,” Jerry says, just as Brady exits the audio booth and comes to stand by us.
“Hey, Quinn,” Brady says.
“Oh, perfect,” Jerry says, turning to Brady. “Walk this woman to her car, would you? We don’t want her going out there alone. Moriarty might be waiting to go full Tonya Harding on you.”
“Who?” I ask, scrunching my face. I look to see Brady giving the same look.
“Oh, right, I forgot you’re both young’uns. Just watch your kneecaps,” he says, pointing to my knees.