As Ian prepared for work the next morning, his stomach was a ball of knots. He wasn’t sure how long hangovers lasted or if he was just conflicted about last night’s events. Maybe he just didn’t get getting it.
On the front porch, uh afterward, Susan turned to Ian and asked if she could call his secretary to set up a meeting, she wanted to discuss some business matters. Ian said of course, and with that the Tysons waved sweetly, Susan blowing a kiss, piled in their Jag and sped down the road.
Was Ian that bad a sexual partner? He had never had a three way before, let alone one that contained a member of the same gender. Maybe, this was how that sort of thing was done, acting as if you had come over for cake and coffee instead of hot and sweaty sex.
It was probably just the alcohol he’d had Saturday night. He never was much of a drinker. He could usually handle three scotches though without struggling like this. He knew alcohol was a depressant. But, shouldn’t it be depressing him instead of making him take up every horny superstar who showed up on his doorstep on her sexual invitations?
He looked down at his crotch as he drove toward the office, “Bad penis! Bad penis!” He was kind of queasy. Was it possible to get pregnant the first time in a three way?
“Holy crap!” he thought. He had many times dreamed of the words that Susan said to him, and pleasured himself thinking about the things they had done. It was Jeremy being thrown into the mix that perplexed him.
Ian’s cell phone interrupted Ian’s train of thought; he reached into his backpack, thankful he’d remembered where he’d put it, and flipped it open.
“Hello.”
“Ian?”
“Yes…Billy?”
“I’m sorry is it too early? I can call back later.”
“No, no man, I’m up, on my way to the office as a matter of fact.”
There was a sigh on Billy’s end. “Good you haven’t gone totally Hollywood.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You know me, Bill. I may be here, but the Hollywood thing isn’t really my thing.” He bit his lip, a flash of exactly how Hollywood he had gone last night crashing back into his brain.
“Just wondered…” Billy sighed again.
Ian pulled to the side of the road and put the car in park, letting it idle. “Billy are you alright?”
“Oh….I’m okay.” He sighed.
“Are you sure? You sound funny.”
“Yeah, everything’s cool.” Billy put some cheer back into his voice. “What’s up?”
“You called me, man.”
“Oh...right.” There was a pause, like Billy was searching for something to say. “So they’re making a big deal on the news about the porn star thing.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That porn star they found dead last night, Barbie something…” he said.
“Bambi?” Ian asked. “Bambi Helton?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. They found her dead of an overdose yesterday. It’s all over the news. Doesn’t the big TV exec ever turn on his television?”
“Actually, on weekends I try to avoid it. I even let the newspapers pile up and I don’t look at them until I get in the office later this morning.”
“I just wondered if they were making a big deal of it there or if it was just being played up by the Bible belt here as a warning against all things ungodly.”
“To be honest, Bill, I haven’t heard anything.”
“Well dead druggie porn stars must be right up there with jaywalking and cheating on taxes where you are, but this chick was big.”
“In more ways than one.” Ian said. “I can’t believe it.”
“You sound upset.”
“Just shocked, Bill. Believe it or not Bambi Helton was in my office just last week.”
“You’re kidding? In your office?”
“Yes. She was trying to pitch an idea for a television show.”
“Obviously, you turned her down.”
“Actually, I hope I encouraged her.” Ian’s mind was racing back examining the details of the meeting with Bambi looking for signs and reasons. “I wasn’t interested in her initial idea, some reality show that was only half serious. I told her to come up with something else and I’d listen.”
“Well, they’re saying it was an overdose, probably a suicide.”
“No, that has to be wrong.” Ian was firm. “There are a lot of things Bambi was into, but I can pretty much assure you that any kind of drug wasn’t one of them, unless they were connected to cosmetic surgery.”
“All I know I what I hear on the news, and how would you know? You haven’t been around a lot of drug users. Those people are good at hiding it, especially in your business.” Billy reminded him.
“You’re right.” Ian had to admit. “So you just called me to catch up on the tawdry headlines.
“Oh, uh…sorry. Have the tube on and it flashed across again.”
Ian wondered why Billy was up watching the news. With the time difference it had to be three or four in the morning in Virginia. He started to ask him, but Billy interrupted.
“I got a call from my sister…”
“Which one?”
“Baby sister, Sparky…”
“So how is Sparky doing?”
“Good, but they’ve got her back on the phones. It’s driving her crazy. She says they still get calls from people asking about you every day.”
“Not sure if that’s sweet or psycho.”
“She says both.”
“Wait a minute, why have they got her back on phones? She’s a good little reporter.”
“Something about a story that didn’t pan out.”
“Serving time.”
“Something like that.”
“Tell her to hang in there.
“Sure. Listen Ian, she said something to me in passing and I thought you might want to know.”
“This isn’t about Clare again, is it?”
“No, uhm…Janie Osbourne called about the boy.”
Ian sat straight up in the car seat. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine, fine…Janie said he has some project at school and he wanted to send a letter to you for his class. Sparky didn’t have a home address, so she sent it directly to the network.”
“Sure. That’s fine.” Ian let out a deep breath.
“The more I thought about it. The more I thought you should know.”
“Yeah, sure…thanks.” Ian’s mind was going a mile a minute. “Billy, I’m pulled off the side of the road, and the morning traffic is getting pretty heavy, so I should go. I’ll give you a call back later and we’ll catch up.”
“Okay.”
“Give my love to Renee and Vonnie.”
There was another long silence.
“Billy? Are you there? I said give my love to Renee and Vonnie…”
The silence continued. Ian checked to make sure the little bar showed an active connection. “Can you hear me? Billy…?”
“She left me, Ian…Renee left me….”
“Oh, man…why didn’t you say something?”
“Don’t know. It seems strange. We’ve always been there for each other, and now all of a sudden you aren’t here any more.”
“You gonna be okay?”
“Sure. No one to get drunk with though….”
“Billy, buddy, I wish I could come back there, but I’ve just gotten things going at work.”
“Yeah, I understand. I’ll be fine. Call when you have a chance to talk.”
“Wait, Billy, can you take some time off of work?”
“I guess, why?”
“Look, I’m going to make a plane reservation for you with no date on it. As soon as you can take some time off, come out here. Stay as long as you like, I’ve got plenty of room.”
There was another pause. “You mean it?”
“Just call me and let me know when to pick you up.”
“Okay. You want I should call Clair and tell her that I’m quitting my job because we’re getting married in September?”
Ian laughed, that was the Billy he remembered. “See you soon, Bill, and thanks for calling.”
“Bye Ian, I’ll call when I can get away.”
“Just call from LAX and I’ll come pick you up.” And they hung up.
Ian put away his phone and put the car back in gear. He pulled back out on the highway and thought of the many times he and Billy had pulled each other through rough times. Billy was the one of few people Ian thought came close to being family, although he wasn’t really sure what that was supposed to be.
As Ian recalled a few good memories of the past he noticed he was within seeing distance of the guard shack at the entrance to the lot. It was always a kick to start his day pulling up and having security peer in the car and say, “Have a good day, Mr. Justyn.” He felt like he was driving into some 40’s movie. Today would be no different, or would it?
There seemed to be a large crowd gathered outside the gate with guards trying to keep the way clear. As he got closer he saw the group was comprised of cameramen and reporters with readied microphones. “What happened here?” He said out loud to no one.
He barely had time to notice that one of the guards had recognized his car and was trying very discreetly to motion him through. Having had that moment fly right over his head, Ian slowed down and rolled down his window. “Good morning, everything okay?”
Ian’s car was instantly surrounded by the reporters. Lights flared and microphones were shoved into his car window. Ian was taken totally by surprise.
“Is it true that you are going to be named the new head of HRT studios, Mr. Justyn?”, “Was this weekend all a publicity stunt to improve the network ratings?”, “Will you verify that you and Saxon Allen got married over the weekend?” The questions came rapid fire from every direction, and all at once.
All Ian could say was, “What the fuck is going on?” Instinctively he knew when on tape to throw in f-bomb to ruin the shot. It would sometimes buy enough time to get your bearings. The guards were Keystone copping in an attempt to get Ian through the gate to the safety of the lot, but the rowdy ménage was having no part of it, determined to be the first to get a statement for God knows what.
Ian decided the best way to get through this alive was to nip it in the bud, in a politically correct rhetoric way. He put his car in park, shoved his car door open with all his might, finally shouting above the din, “For a group of people determined to get a statement from me, you don’t seem to want to let me out of my car to make one. Get back and I’ll come out and answer all questions!”
The eager hounds quickly fought amongst themselves until a path was cleared to allow Ian to get out of his car. As soon as he stood, the questions began to fire again. Ian looked to one of the guards, “Would you mind pulling this out of the way?”
One of the younger guards looked like Ian had just run him over with the damn car. “Me, Mr. Just…er…Ian?”
Ian nodded his head. “Please.”
The young man hopped in the car, put it in gear and pulled it through the gate. The reporters kept hollering absurd questions and statements, paying absolutely no attention to the looks that were being exchanged between Ian and the guards.
One of the bigger guards stepped between Ian and the mob, raising his hands and shouting, “Alright you people, calm down, calm down.” He finally screamed at the top of his lungs, “SHUT UP!”
And the crowd fell silent. The guard continued. “If you will all compose yourself, Mr. Justyn has consented to give you a statement. We’ll give you two minutes to get yourselves set up for the shot.”
The guard looked at Ian and Ian at the guard. The reporters hurriedly positioned themselves trying to get the perfect set up in less than ninety seconds. They were professionals. They could do it.
Ian cleared his throat and took a step toward the reporters. He started to say something but the guard held up his hand. “Sir, let’s just have to do this one time. I’ll give a count. Ready?”
Ian nodded his head, the reporters fumbled and the guard counted down, “Five…four…three…” and then he mouthed and held up fingers signaling two…one…
On the one, Ian looked at the guard, nodded his head and started his statement. “Thank you for being here. Obviously there is only one thing I can say about the events that have brought you all here today….”
Ian looked down and shuffled his feet, hands in pockets, double checking the target in the corner of his eye. He lifted his head. Staring straight into the cameras and lights with a smile on his face said firmly, “I don’t know what the fuck you are talking about” and darted for a small opening one guard standing ready had made with the iron gate.
Before the reporters knew what hit them, Ian was through to safety and the reporters were shoving microphones and pole lights through the bars like those hungry people in cages in “Planet of the Apes”.
Ian sauntered on his way, stopping long enough to bow graciously to the guards who were all high fiving each other. Before he got back into his Chevy, he turned to the young guard who held the door for him. “Tell everyone thanks and that lunch is on me.”
“Oh thank you, sir.” The young man said as he slammed Ian’s car door shut for him. “You have a great day Mr. Ian, sir!” And Ian drove off.
He figured it wouldn’t be long before he knew exactly what was going on. All he knew is that it was obvious part of it had to do with Saturday night, but that should have been old news by now. He got nothing when he walked in the lobby to sign in, except a little more than usual “good morning” from the clerk.
The elevator ride to his floor was quiet and lonely. He stood in the cab and nervously pondered what might be before him. He hated being unprepared, but was ashamed to admit he did some of his best work when he was blindly swinging at the ball. As the elevator doors slid open, he took a deep breath and strode as confidently as possible into whatever melee might lie ahead.
Trish was at her post, the phones ringing wildly, with a second girl helping out. Trish shot him a look that was both deadly and smug when he said good morning. She said nothing as she handed him a stack of mail.
Ian sorted through it and headed for the main office. Without turning to look at her he added, “Oh, Trish, I talked an old college friend, Saxon Allen…”
Trish’s eyebrows shot up so far they almost rocketed off her forehead.
“It seems I never received any of the messages she left.”
“I’ll check into that, Ian.” She said meaning “I’m busy”.
“I expect you to get to the bottom of it and report to me by the end of the morning meeting.”
Trish’s eyes got beady and snake like. “Yes, Ian.”
“I also expect it will not happen again, Trish.”
“I’m sure it was just an oversight at the front desk.” She tried to shift the blame.
“I expect it will not happen again, Trish.”
“I will do my best, Ian.” She said flatly.
Ian stopped and turned to her, looking directly in her eyes, “I can get anyone to answer phones, Trish.”
Trish actually brightened thinking of the possibility of actually getting fired. Ian starting walking back to the office and tossed over his shoulder, “I am searching for just the right person to water my plants.”
Ian heard the second girl say, “He doesn’t have any plants.” And Trish snarl, “Oh, the son of a bitch will pull some out of his ass if he has to.”
When he entered the main office, everyone was present and accounted for and seemed fairly normal. He was surprised. He strode in his office and picked up a second neat stack of messages and memos, leafed through them quickly, making mental note of a few. He stuck his head out of his door. “Ready in five?” He said to the audible agreement of the group.
He turned to Blake. “Could you call and order lunch for the guards please?”
“Sure. I’ll call the commissary.”
“God no, it’s a thank you, not a threat.”
Blake laughed, “Pizza or burgers?” as he picked up his handy dandy notebook that seemed to have the contact numbers for the entire universe.
“No, make it special, I’ll leave it to you. I want them to have a nice lunch, something catered, but not overwhelming.”
“Got it,” he said looked through his book and started dialing.
“Everybody ready?” Ian said out loud, signaling the staff to ready the horses at the starting gate.
The team started to gather, and Wella strutted up and offered Ian his choice from an already opened box of fresh donuts. He made a selection and took a bite. “Everybody have a good weekend?”
Daryn stifled a giggle and Warren, one of the guys who had been in daytime, kicked her ankle.
“Okay, what is going on?”
Everybody started talking at once. Just as earlier, it all came so fast and furious he couldn’t understand a word. He finally just let them wear them selves out.
When the din became a silence, he held up his hands, “Okay, we’ll do it this way…” he picked another powdered donut out of the box. “When you have the donut take a bite and then give me one sentence, pass the donut and repeat.”
“I don’t eat refined sugar…” Ella whined.
“Then you don’t get to speak…ever…again…understand?”
Heads nodded in agreement. He took a bite, chewed and swallowed. “I get to work this morning and am met at the front gate by a pack of rabid reporters who seem to be under the impression that as a publicity stunt I am taking over the network after eloping with Saxon Allen.” He passed the donut to Wella.
“Jack Tolan announced this morning he is retiring after May sweeps.” She smiled, more at the fact that she kept it short and precise, than starting off with the juicy tidbit of information. She passed the donut to Daryn.
“You’re a star on You Tube. Already one of the top ten downloads in less than 48 hours!” She giggled and passed the donut on. “Shall I call Lady Gaga and tell her you don’t work with has been hootchie mamas?”
Ella giggled half her donut from her mouth. “Mine’s show and tell.” She picked up a handful of papers all folded to the right spot and dropped them one by one in Ian’s lap.
The bold captions read things like “NEW EXEC SHAKES IT UP AT HTR”, “NEW HUNKA HUNKA HTR” and “JUSTYN TIME TO SAVE A NETWORK”. Each boldly emblazoned with a large photo of himself, shirt open to the waist and in sweat covered mid-gyration. Ella past the last bite of donut…
Sean, who always seemed to Ian a little too serious, “David Letterman called, he wants to know if you’ll read his top ten list on Thursday.”
“Okay, let’s put all this together”, Ian rounded up the group. “Anyone have anything…substantial…to add?”
“Well”, Lee blinked through his wire rims, “I didn’t get any donut, but…” he opened his laptop, hit a button and swiveled the screen around for all to see. Suddenly there was Ian, standing in front of the microphone.
“Are you ready for something…sexy?” His image asked as the room screamed yes. “Good, cause I’m wearing way too many clothes…” he shouldered his jacket off and as the band hit the opening chord he ripped his shirt open launching into Prince’s “Kiss”.
“So that’s how that happened…” Ian cringed and waved his hands, “Enough! Enough! Turn it off! Turn it off!”
Lee clicked and the screen went black. Ian caught Ella mouthing “Make me copy”.
“Wow! Ian, you were hot!” Interjected Sean, “That even made me kinda….”
“Don’t even go there…” Ian stopped him. “First things, first. How did that get on the internet?” The entire staff held up their cell phones and showed the camera eye. Ian hung his head in stupidity.
“Okay, scenarios and spin control”
Ella piped in, “Timing, could be considered a move by you to gain the attention of the public in support of a bid for Tolan’s position.”
Ian answered, “Silly, too new and too naïve a move. Next!”
Sean’s turn, “Other execs might be threatened, though. I’m sure you’ll be called on it today at the meeting.”
“Right. The good side and the bad side were sounded out for a few moments and then Ian changed the subject to the meeting “Yes, the meeting, what have we got to offer?”
A verbal rundown was made of projects in various states, and pitches to win them a spot on the fall schedule. The goal was one show. They knew they were a new team who had to work quickly in a fight to be taken seriously enough to be taken seriously.
Wella would attend the meeting with him, a little uncommon, but the two of them had developed a system of signals to help Ian along. She had been around, on the periphery, a long time, and knew how each person in that room might react.
On several occasions she had already silently guided Ian through what could have been embarrassing meetings with various members of the hierarchy. Provided she didn’t come off looking like a spastic having a nervous breakdown, Ian felt more confident having her there.
“Okay, before we go a couple of noodles to throw in the pot. First up, heard a rumor this weekend that HRT is planning on getting out of daytime completely within two years. I need a break down, both pro and con, in time to get the facts down before the meeting this afternoon.” Ian announced, proud it sounded so very boss like. “I have my own opinion, but want the facts to turn into a definitive side before I go in. Undoubtedly, this will be a topic of conversation.”
Sean piped in, “Word is they are planning on canceling “Sebastian Manor” and expanding the morning news program by an hour.”
Ian pointed at him, “Exactly. What I need to know is not whether or not that is the plan, but whether or not that will help or hurt HRT.”
Shayne added, “Canceling an embarrassing piece of crap on the bottom of the ratings is probably not a bad idea.”
“Correct, it probably needs to go, but what we need to figure out is adding an extra hour to a news show that plays leap frog with the Ovation network for last place a financially sound move?”
“Explain.” Willa stated, her pencil ready at her pad.
“I read it like this,” Ian went on, “regardless of its ratings in the USA, what are the overseas market sales valued at? American soaps earn big money over there. Would it behoove us just to remove the albatross and cover the grave, or should a new soap take its place, keeping much needed dollars in the coffer? I need both sides of each scenario.”
Shayne volunteered, “I’ll take pro cover the grave.” Ella went with pro replace the show, Sean con replace the show and Daryn con cover the grave.
“Good”, that left two staff members, “You two, I have something else in mind. This weekend I was regaled with an urban legend concerning the studio, I want the two of you to find everything you can on Darla Hutton.”
Wella and Blake both perked up. “What on Earth for? It’s fun to speculate about, but what good will it do us?”
“Ah, there’s the rub!” Ian held up a Shakespearian finger. “Let’s find out. We have an apparently unsolved mystery concerning our own network, a network getting a beating regularly by info-mercials for Snuggies on Friday nights.”
“I love Snuggies” Ella let slip out.
“Yes…” Ian looked at her. “They’ve changed our lives, now back to our program. Is there something there that can drum up some good press, maybe make people tune in just because of our history. I’m talking about the legend not the Snuggies.”
The puzzle piece fit in Wella’s head, “I get it, maybe a campaign for the fall, a remember our past come check us out now, kind of thing?”
“You got it, and hopefully come fall we’ll have something worth checking out besides a few reality shows and a once great cop show whose ratings are now as saggy as the female lead’s aging breasts.” Ian wrung his hands, “Chop chop, ladies and gentlemen, the conference is in less than 4 hours.”
There was a ruckus in the hallway. Ian looked up half hoping it was Trish throwing in a very large towel. Instead he witnessed two security guards struggling with an alley cat who was managing to get herself into Ian’s office anyway. Ian’s heart fell into his lap when he recognized the alley cat.
“Darling, will you please explain to these idiots that I am your fiancé?” Clare put her hands defiantly on her hips, and tapped on foot on the floor.
“We are sorry Mr. Ian, sir…” one of the harassed men tried to explain.
“But this…this…woman insisted. Threatening to call the police and have us all arrested” the other one finished the first’s sentence.
Clare rolled her eyes back in her head, “Ian I don’t know where you find these people. I didn’t threaten to have them arrested. I threaten to have you fire their moronic asses!”
Ian felt every eye on him and the spectacle before him. He didn’t know how she had done it, but he shouldn’t be as surprised as he was that Clare had managed to get on the lot and all the way to his office. It was her determined feistiness that initially attracted him, and eventually drove him away.
“Tell them we are getting married in September!” She stomped her foot on the floor. “NOW!”
Ian stood, and the team stepped nonchalantly closer to hear every word. “Clare as usual, you are absolutely delusional.”
“Okay, okay…” she calmed down knowing how to control the situation. “…I know you are upset. I am, too, but we can work this out. I forgive you and the wedding is still on.”
“Clare, there never was a wedding, we never discussed it and, quite frankly I do not appreciate your showing up in my office, spouting mythical facts in front of my staff when things were made very clear when I broke up with you and left our apartment before I moved to California. Now, do yourself a favor and go home.”
“Ian, what has gotten into you? There was no break up.”
“Clare,” Ian emphasized her name with as similar a gooey sweetness as she had his, “What part of I can’t take this asinine bullshit any longer, it’s over, didn’t you understand?”
“I understood it Ian, but I never agreed to it. Now if you will just reinstate the credit cards so I can buy my wedding gown.”
“Gentlemen, get this woman out of the building. And please explain to her over and over as you drag her out, just how severe the stalker laws are in this state and that if I ever see her again, she will feel the legal system’s full wrath. Then she’ll feel mine.”
One man grabbed each arm and began to pull her out of the office. She slapped each hand away and tried one last shot. “Fine…I’m sorry. Whatever it is you think I’ve done, I’m sorry.”
Ian pointed toward the elevator.
Clare tried hard not to lose her temper, again. “Look if I can forgive you for your one night stand, if that’s the proper term for an orgy with sex toys, you can forgive me for whatever ridiculous thing you are holding against me and we can move on.”
“Clare just move on out the door and don’t come back.”
“Dammit!” She stomped her foot again, “Ian, I quit my job! I need money!”
“Clare no one told you to quit your job and come to California. You are on your own. You have drained the last cent from me you are ever going to…gentlemen, by whatever means necessary!”
The two men literally picked her up and carried her out like a 60’s protestor, Clare protesting all the way. “At least give me plane fare!”
Ian shuffled through the papers in his hand, and yelled as the elevator doors opened. “I’ll make you a deal Clare. I’ll give you plane fare when you give me that blow job you promised for ten years.”
She howled like a vampire at sunup as the elevator doors closed.
“Have a nice life, Clare” Ian said as he strolled casually back to his office. “1 PM guys, work to do.”
As Ian shut the door to his office he heard Sean whistle, “Damn, ten years without a blow job. But why’s she mad?”
Precisely twenty-five minutes later, Ian was being ushered into Jack Tolan’s office by his secretary for his first big meeting of the day. He had assumed that it was a perfunctory chat about protocol and procedure expected at the initial fall schedule meeting that afternoon. With the press coverage he now assumed this meeting could be about anything.
Once the usual handshakes were exchanged, Ian was introduced to a third, unexpected party in the room.
“Ian I would like you to meet Lance Crockett, head of our promotions department.”
Ian shook his hand, “You were named after a cracker?” He smiled, wishing he had said something else.
The man’s coal gray eyes flashed, “Who taught you how to spell your last name?” The man retorted.
“Have a seat” Tolan motioned. Everyone took the cushy chair motioned to. “Ian, I understand you had a rather interesting weekend…”
“Sir, some friends took me out for my very first real night on the town. I ran into some old college buddies, knocked back a couple of drinks and ending up singing a song or two with the band. I had no idea, and I realize now rather naively, that things would steam roll the way they did.”
Jack nodded his head, “Of course son, I’m sure you are still realizing how small a town LA really is. Even though everyone is entitled to their private lives, there is very little private about any one’s life, especially here and especially in our positions.”
“Of course, sir. I will be happy to do any kind of damage control that you see fit.” Ian was ready to do whatever was necessary. He in no way wanted to damage the reputation of HRT. No matter what the cost to him.
“Well, I think little damage control has to be done.” Ian was surprised. “Now I will admit, it was a little unorthodox, but blown way out of proportion, probably compounded by my own announcement.”
“The two probably just fanned each other’s flame.” The publicity guy added.
“Precisely” Tolan agreed. “Actually, other than a few rumors that are totally unbelievable there is nothing to control. The phones have been ringing off the hook since early Sunday morning, every one of them positive. You have generated more excitement for this network than people paid handsomely for quite a long time have managed to.” Tolan shot a look toward Crockett.
“That’s where I come in.” Crockett jumped back in.
“Lance and I had planned to have this meeting with you a little later, but now seems like the perfect time to act, while the iron is hot, so to speak”
“So to speak...” Crockett yes manned.
“I don’t understand.”
“May I?” Crockett asked.
“Certainly”
“Even before your little public display became so public, your charisma and charm have not gone unnoticed, something that our demographics say aren’t usually associated with this network. It has been discussed that perhaps now is the time to use you to help change that.”
“I’m still lost.”
“Ian,” Tolan deliberately chose his words, “We would like you to be the new face of HRT, a spokes person for a simplistic term.”
“You mean turn the letters while you get the contestants to spin the wheel?” Ian was wishing Wella were there. He was a lot confused and a little insulted and wasn’t sure he wanted to bother with protocol.
Tolan, laughed. “Not exactly. We would like you to be the front man for all press conferences, be there for most important interviews. Sort of be the embodiment of the network, let the public think of you when they think of HRT.”
“I understand, but I’m not exactly sure how that will solve the problems that we have.”
Crockett explained, “Your background makes you a perfect fit to handle both journalistic and public obligations that the network might have. You would attend press junkets; be on talk programs to promote HRT, generating interest in the programming, promoting upcoming events and even aiding in damage control when necessary.”
“I really have no interest in reading David Letterman’s top ten…”
Tolan and Crockett both laughed. “You are certainly welcome to do any appearances you wish, provided you clear them with the promotions department first.” Tolan pointed out.
“Mr. Tolan…Jack.” Ian felt the need to ask. “What about my department, is that being taken away from me?”
“Absolutely not.” Jack wasted no time in telling him. “This would be in addition to your executive duties.”
“It should only amount to a few hours a week. Although, during sweeps and convention season…” Crockett started listing.
“I am sure Ian is aware of promotion schedules, Lance,” Ian got the feeling Tolan didn’t care for the man.
Tolan returned his focus to Ian. “You would be considered an even greater asset to this company, and hopefully generate some much needed credibility for HRT--and yourself, of course.”
Ian wasn’t sure it was a great idea, but he also knew that in light of what had happened, to his chagrin, he really didn’t have much of a choice. “I’ll be happy to do whatever I can, Jack. You know that.”
Jack smiled, “I knew you’d see things as they are. You are a bright young man, with a bright future. That’s why you are here.”
“Thank you sir.”
“Now why don’t you set aside some time for Lance, here, and together create some more good buzz for us, then take the rest of the day off.”
“Of course, sir.” Ian was disappointed he had been dutifully been taken out of the game and made a cheerleader, but he wasn’t going without a fight. “Jack, what about the meeting this afternoon?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. A few members of the board had conflicts, so we’ve rescheduled for tomorrow morning at 10. I am expecting good things from you young man.”
Ian was overcome with relief, although still uneasy about the situation. Crockett wanted to begin their session immediately, but Ian managed to put him off long enough to inform his staff to get a few ideas stirring in team pot and a few tips from Wella.
The extra time afforded by the rescheduling would help to get a few decisions made. While nothing definite had to be laid out at tomorrow’s meeting, it would give him space to green light a few projects; know which ideas to develop, which to put on hold and what to just scrap. He forgot he was supposed to go home early and spent the rest of the day in a flush of creativity.
To Ian’s surprise offers were pouring in, everything from talk shows to record deals, even Playgirl Magazine. Ian dutifully turned them all over to Lance Crockett, hoping it would keep him busy and close the door on the gnat that now seemed to be turned loose in his house. Ian was embarrassed, confused and amazed by it all.
By mid afternoon, Ian found himself catching up on reading the papers, the turn of events spurring the decision that putting off for two days a week keeping up with what was going on was a bad idea. Every newspaper he could get his hands on was filled with hyped up lurid details of Ian’s “wild” Saturday night, including some very surprising pictures of his kiss with Saxon Allen.
He shook his head. Most of that night, he didn’t seem to recall clearly, if at all. The papers seem to have it all down; blurry shots of the kiss, sketchy details of the songs, even a rather clear shot of his pouring himself into the limo, but not one mention of his two companions.
Ian folded the newspaper and tossed it on the pile with the others. It wasn’t until then that he noticed the tiny little column in the lower right corner about Bambi Helton. He picked the paper back up and read.
She was found naked in her apartment by the cleaning lady, needle stuck in her thigh. Police assumed it was an overdose. Details furnished by co-workers saying she’d been “Depressed and desperate the past few weeks” lead them further to believe it was possibly deliberate and not accidental. The case would not be officially closed until the autopsy report came back, but speculation seemed to rule.
Ian scratched his head as he put the newspaper down. “I guess she wouldn’t be the first aging porn queen to take her own life, but suicide by heroin…in her thigh?” It didn’t make sense to him, but then doing everything else she had done to and with her body didn’t make sense to him either.
“Ian?” Blake appeared in the office doorway.
He didn’t look up, keeping his eyes focused on the tiny, lost article. “Blake, when Bambi Helton was here, did you think she was depressed and desperate?”
Blake jolted a little bit. “To be honest, I didn’t really get that impression, but then I was in shock that she was here to begin with.” He looked at Ian. “There was nothing you could do to help her, boss man.”
“I know that.” Ian looked up at his secretary. “But did you think she was depressed and upset?”
Blake walked over to the desk and looked at the small quote Ian pointed to. “My time with her was so limited, but that wasn’t the feeling I got from her.”
“Kind of excited, a little apprehensive, but energetic?”
He nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s probably right, especially when she left.” Blake added, “Look, Ian, who knows what goes on in people’s minds, especially in Hollywood. We’re all so busy we tend to forget that we’ve all become professional at presentation. It’s hard to remember that what we’re seeing is not necessarily what is actually there.”
Ian nodded his head. “And I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That no one took note that you and Wella were with me Saturday night.”
Blake giggled. “Ian nobody notices the entourage. It comes in the job description. Don’t sweat it.”
“But you are human beings, too.”
Blake turned to go. “No we’re not.” He stopped at the door. “By the way, I have a little surprise for you.”
Saxon Allen stepped into the doorway. “Surprise!”
Ian happily stood, kissed and then took both her hands in his. “How did you manage to get all the way in the building and not get noticed, especially with all that’s been going on out there?”
“Oh, I’m good at giving the paparazzi the slip.”
Ian flipped open to the front page of the entertainment section and pointed to the huge picture of their reuniting kiss. “No you’re not.”
“I’m great at it. You’re the novice. That picture was your fault.” She said.
“Oh, I’m the guilty party.”
“Of course.” She looked closer at the picture. “Is my butt that big?”
“I’m not going there.” He motioned for her to have a seat.
“Good man.” She sat crossed her legs in classic style and put her snazzy shoulder bag in her lap. “So do we have a date?”
“Excuse me?” Ian sat back with surprise.
“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m taking about Ian Grayson Justyn.”
“Ooh, you must mean business. You used all three of my names.”
“That’s why you have three. Now, do I have you on my arm next weekend or do I have to run to the last minute man candy store? Remember you promised.”
“You are going to hold me to a drunken promise made ten years ago shortly before you puked cheap tequila all over yourself?”
“Hey, a promise remembered during a drunken stupor is one heck of a solid promise.”
Ian scowled.
Saxon scowled back. “What’s the problem, Ian? Are you ashamed to be seen with me in public?”
“Of course not. You ain’t bad on the eyes, an’ almost half classy, Bessie.” He mocked their upbringing, using one of the pet names he called her during their college friendship.
“Gooda you ta notice, Clem.” She crossed her arms. “I cannot believe you’re going to make me beg.”
“Saxon, you can have your pick of anyone in the world, the world! Why me?”
“Because…” Ian shot her a look. Saxon rolled her eyes and tried to explain. “Okay, it’s a big night, and I want to share it, finally, with some one I can just be myself with. Who’ll keep me from taking the whole gaudy thing too seriously.”
“You’re afraid you’ll pee your designer gown on the way to the podium?”
“Probably, but I’m still in shock that I’m nominated. I keep thinking either it was a lean year, and it wasn’t--there are six…SIX…other actresses more deserving than I…”
“Or?”
“Or it’s one of those tacky career achievement things, and I’m dying of cancer and no one has the guts to tell me.”
“Okay, okay!” Ian waved his hands, pushed out his chair and motioned for her to come and sit in his lap.
Saxon hesitated a minute then reached her hand out to him. He smiled and gently pulled her on his lap, wrapping his arms around her and rocking her back and forth.
“My sweet self doubting Saxon.” He brushed the fluff of hair from his mouth so he could speak to her. “Yes, we all have to admit your nomination came as a surprise, but that just makes it sweeter. That little film was so refreshing and so wonderful it stands out amongst all the angst and gun fire and sweat…”
“But…”
“Shhh, I’m not finished.” He put his hand over her mouth, “And you young lady, were pitch perfect, not a wasted…eye lash.” Saxon snickered, mouth still covered by his hand. “You made that picture, you, your talent, your classic beauty. As Mamie Rae Tipton Shores would say, so stop peeing in the pool and enjoy the swim.”
Saxon took a deep breath and pushed his hand away. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” He said as she sat up. “Aren’t you glad we ran off yesterday and got married?”
“Well, you knocked me up. It’s the least you could do.” She playfully squeezed his chin and got up, smoothing her dress down. “So, you’re going with me?”
“Do you really want to have all those rumors fueled?”
“Do you really want me to have to call Judd ‘You may remember me as Hot Steel from my WWF days’ Dunning?” She put her hands flat on his desk. “Look, yeah yeah, a few rumors will fly. It’ll be good for your career.” She pointed at the grin he was about to crack and warned. “Not that I’m boasting, but I’m really hot right now, and being seen at the Academy Awards with me, win or lose, is going to be very high profile. It can only help you, and HRT.”
“I hate using your spotlight in hopes of yanking a little bit of it for myself, besides I’d feel cheap and whorey.” He whined.
“Do I need to make you sit on my lap? It’s not going to compromise anyone’s ethics if we both know what we’re doing. Remember we are now part of the Hollywood elite. We’re supposed to be cheap and whorey. It’s in the job description”
“You’re sure?”
Saxon cocked her head at him. “Of course, and…” she plopped down in her chair. “I’d have brought you out here and shopped you around several years ago if I hadn’t been afraid that rabid howler monkey would have caught a sniff from down wind and rip me limb from limb.”
“You’re afraid of Clare?”
Saxon looked Ian in the eye. “Oh, hell yes.”
“That howler monkey made an appearance today.”
“You’re kidding?” She leaned in for all the juicy details.
“Right here in the office.”
“How was she?”
“Rabid.”
“And…”
Ian sat back confident. “She won’t be back.”
“I’ve heard that before.” She sneered.
“After the spectacle she made here today, if she dares to even sniff down or up wind, she’ll have a restraining order slapped on her so fast it’ll make her little head spin around.”
“Good for you.” Saxon looked back down at the picture in the newspaper still staring up at her. “Are you sure my butt’s not that big?”
“Guarantee.”
“You know it amazes me that they always think they got the hot shot, and nine times out of ten they’re flashing their bulbs at one thing when the really juicy story is on the other side of the room.”
It was Ian’s turn to lean in for the juicy details. “Do tell.”
“They were all so busy chronicling your hot tushy, when they could have been snapping pictures of Hot Steel being the filling in an sexual cookie Oreo made of my driver and one of the bartenders; me behind the wheel of the limo peeling rubber and yelling for him to get his legs out of the window.”
Ian shook his head. “Saxon, you need to stop falling in love with hot gorgeous men who love other hot gorgeous men.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I have two ex-wives to prove it, but I keep doing it over and over and over. No wonder they’re my people…” She waved her hand in the air like Queen Elizabeth at a parade. “Now have I got a date or what?”
Ian acquiesced. “You’ve got a date.”
“There that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Not for me. How ‘bout for you?”
“A-hole.”
Ian smiled. “Now tell me about this production company…”
Saxon cocked her head and put up her hands. “Ahhh…well Mr. Justyn, nothing’s official yet, but as soon as I find the right project.”
The wheels in Ian’s head started turning. “The right project.”
“It’s a natural step.”
“Of course.”
“I’m just looking to develop things that interest me for a change, something a little beyond romantic comedies and blondes in distress.”
“Hmmm, I think I might have something that might interest you.” Ian nibbled on a black flair pen.
“No offense, but I don’t do television.”
Ian smirked. “ No offense, but I wasn’t offering you a job…as an actress. I was thinking executive producer.”
Ian could see the bells go off in her head. “I need a cheese steak.”
“You still eat cheese steaks?”
Saxon brushed her midriff. “I don’t work out every day for the guns, honey. I bust my behind to feed it with anything I want.”
“Cheese steak, it is.” Ian looked beyond her shoulders. “Blake!” He opened a drawer and handed her a script. “There’s this new writer named Jenson Michael…”
“Miss Humphreys?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know me, but I’m calling as a representative of HRT Studios.”
“Has Ian had a change of heart?” Clare thought hopefully.
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Goodbye.”
“Don’t hang up.”
“Why not? There is nothing to discuss.”
“Oh, but there is Clare. May I call you Clare?”
“No. Who is this anyway?”
“I told you I’m a representative of…”
“Yeah, yeah, buddy. I got it…HRT Studios.” She picked up the writ she’d tossed down beside the phone. “I already got your representation. Don’t worry I won’t come anywhere near the studio…or that rat bastard again.”
“Miss Humphreys, there seems to be a misunderstanding here. I’m not calling about that that. I’m calling to make sure you understand your position.”
“What position? I’m jobless, without enough money for a plane ticket home, and this flea bag motel won’t give me a refund, so unless I cough up some more cash, I’m homeless by the end of the week, too.”
“If you would be so kind as to just let me have a moment of your time…Clare…please, I think there’s a way for you to turn this situation around.”
“Who is this?”
“Why don’t you call me Bruno?”
“Bruno? So, Bruno, you want to play matchmaker?”
Clare heard the man laugh on the other end of the phone. “No, dear. Let’s be honest. The man lied to you, took advantage of you, lured you away from home, publicly humiliated you and then left you flat broke. It would be stupid of me to even consider any sort of reconciliation between the two of you, and I would think that, even if it takes some time, you wouldn’t even consider it yourself.”
“Well, I’m not real happy at the moment, but there’s not a whole heck of a lot that I can do.”
“This is California, dear. There is a whole heck of a lot you can do.”
“Yeah? Like what? Boo hoo to the press?”
“Well, that’s one option, but that’s a card better played later in the game.”
“What game?”
“The revenge game, Clare…revenge. It’s what the “R” in California stands for.”
“Look, Mr. HRT Rep, Bruno, or whatever, I’m not interested in any games, unless it’s poker with a big pot and I’m the only one who knows the cards are marked.”
“That’s what I’m telling you. If it’s money you want, money you need, then you have all the cards to get it…from Ian.”
Clare smirked. “Oh yeah, half of every thing. I got it. Look, I haven’t got time for ambulance chasers…you are a lawyer right?”
“No, actually, I’m just a concerned man, aghast at the awful treatment you were given and am offering my services to help rectify it…financially, and of course, emotionally. Who cares about money, Clare, when you can make him suffer and sweat the way he’s making you.”
Clare had to admit, right now nailing Ian’s testicles to beehive and feeding them to the bears sounded…she shook her head. “Thank you…Bruno, but I just need to take care of myself from now on. I appreciate your call.”
“Wait, at least let me help you out.”
“Look, mister…”
“I’m going to messenger a little cash over to you.”
“What for?”
“Just to help you out. Use it to go home. Use it to stay. Whatever you need.”
“And in return?”
“Nothing.”
“Just a good Samaritan?”
“Just a good Samaritan. I’ll put my phone number in there, and should you change your mind, or just need some one to talk to who understands your side of things…just give me a call. That’s all I ask.”
It was dark by the time he made it home. Fortunately, he already seemed to be old news and the reporters were all off annoying someone else. Maybe the afternoon of rain helped. Ian’s brush with notoriety, however fleeting, had made him cautious and drained. He just wanted to go home and forget it all.
He let himself in the house and made a dinner, a little pasta and garlic bread. He enjoyed his new wardrobe, but preferred the sweats and old tee shirt he had quickly changed into shortly after going in the house. It made him feel a little normal, something that was getting harder and harder to do, especially since he wasn’t quite sure what that was.
As he returned to the kitchen to unload the dishwasher he spotted Ralphie sitting at the backdoor, soaking wet but wagging his tail. Obviously he had gotten out again and that Kellen guy hadn’t returned home from work. Ian brought him in, dried him off and fed him the left over half of garlic bread.
Ian found an old Frisbee and Ralphie seemed to enjoy chasing it in the backyard for a while. The dog soon wore him out. Ian sat in the chaise, Ralphie’s head on his lap.
Ian pulled his tee over his head and grabbed his smokes. He laid back in the chaise with Ralphie beside him, pounding his tail gently on the staccato. Ian crossed his arms behind his head and started to drift off to sleep. Something stirred him. He opened his eyes to find Kellen sitting the chaise next to him and smiling.
“Hey, buddy, wake you from a nice dream?”
“I was just about to drift off, been a Monday all day long.”
“Anything I can do to help.”
“Nope, just make Tuesday hurry up and get here.”
Kellen snapped his fingers, “Done!”
“I feel better already. Thanks.”
“Any time. So my son, got out again?”
“Looks that way.”
“You should have just chained him up.”
“He’s been good company. I only had garlic bread to feed him though.”
“I ran a little later than expected. Sorry.”
“Not a problem. I didn’t mind at all.”
“Wish I could figure out how he’s getting out of the house. Sometimes I think he can walk through walls.” He looked at Ian and smiled. “Looks like you’ve about had it. I’ll take this bad boy back over to my place and leave you to some peace and quiet.”
Ian smiled and nodded his head.
“Have a good night, Ian.”
“You, too.”
“You were really hot the other night.”
Ian’s face flushed. “Uh…thank you.”
Kellen smiled. “You’re embarrassed?”
Ian looked at the grass. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Oh lots of things…” Ian wasn’t sure if he should tell the man an image of him having sex on his balcony just popped in his head, or that he was so drunk Saturday night he barely remembered anything after the first scotch. “I don’t usually…”
“Turn an entire crowd on with your music?” Kellen looked at him with doubt. “Come on, surely you are used to that.”
“Actually, I was going to say I usually don’t get so drunk I don’t remember anything.” He added, “And I’ve never had a hangover in my life. Believe me from now on I stay away from the scotch in California.”
Kellen cocked his head, reaching over to scratch Ralphie’s ears. “How many did you sock away?”
“Three…” Ian thought about for a second. “Including the one I stole from you.”
“And you blacked out?” Kellen seemed a little perplexed.
“Sort of. I remember you clearly, and I remember the first song…well most of the first song.”
“Something’s not right about that.” He said.
“Well, I’ve never been too much of a drinker.” Ian defended his theory.
“But you had a hangover you said…after three little scotches…”
“I guess so, never had one before. My head pounded and my mouth was dry…queasy. A couple of aspirin did the trick though.”
Kellen thought a moment and then looked back to Ian. “I don’t think you were drunk, no one blacks out and has a hang over after that little alcohol, unless they’ve never had alcohol before.”
“What I suddenly developed an allergic reaction to booze?”
“No. I think you were rufied.”
“What?”
“I think someone put something in your drink.”
“Drugs? What on earth for? So I’d make a fool of myself in public?” Ian thought the idea was preposterous.
“No to take advantage of you.”
Ian laughed. “You think some woman put drugs in my drink so I’d sleep with her.”
“No, I think some guy put something in your drink.”
He laughed again. “What for?”
“To take your cherry.”
“What?” Ian sat up in the chaise. “I don’t understand.”
“So he could fuck you.”
“Oh…that I understand.” Ian looked at Kellen. “Why would someone do that?”
“Why does anyone do anything?”
“Thanks for getting philosophical.”
“Sorry, best I can do.” Kellen thought a second and tried to explain. “Everyone in this town knows who you are and want you do and everybody, like it or not, is connected to the entertainment industry in one way or another.”
“I see your point, but that still doesn’t explain why you think…”
Kellen put up his hands, “Let me finish…I don’t know for sure, but it makes a lot more sense than you weren’t used to drinking that much, if you had you’d have been sweating and puking, not singing and dancing…and you wouldn’t have just blacked out like that. Am I correct? It wasn’t a gradual thing, just all at once?”
Ian thought a moment and then nodded his head. “Yeah, one minute I was singing Mick Jagger, then next I was in my bedroom with a head like one of those cartoon characters.” He mimicked his head expanding and shrinking.
Kellen scowled. “You were rufied.” He stood up. “Look I’ll get Ralphie back and then I’m gonna check with the club. If someone did this, they need to know and take precautions that it doesn’t happen again.”
“But no one got hurt, I’m mortified, but no one got hurt.”
“But what about the next time, Ian? There are video cameras all around the club. It’s a long shot, but maybe we can catch who did this and stop it from happening again.”
“It’s still hard for me to believe that someone would deliberately…”
“Look, two scenarios here, neither one really pretty. Either someone wanted to take advantage of you physically, or they were hoping that you’d do something crazy and cause a big scandal.”
“I suddenly feel like I’m on a really bad episode of “Law and Order”.
“Just be careful, Ian. You’re a nice guy in a town that isn’t.”
“Yes, Mr. Policeman, sir.”
“Ex-Mr. Policeman.” Kellen shook his finger at him. “And take this seriously, Ian.”
“I will.”
“You have a good night. Thanks for watching out for my baby here.” Kellen rustled Ralphie’s coat and stood. “Com’mon boy.”
“Hey, Kellen, speaking of something that doesn’t sound right…you’re the ex-cop.”
“That I am.”
“Do you have any connections still? I mean could you check in to something for me? I know I have no right to ask.”
“Ian, you were very possibly drugged, although no real harm done, at a club that my business contracts to keep things like that from happening. What happened was on my watch. You have every right to ask me anything you want.”
“Uhm…Bambi Helton…”
“The woman who killed herself?”
“Yeah. It doesn’t seem right. I’m mean she overdosed by shooting heroin…into her thigh? Is that a new thing? Shooting up into the fatty tissue of your legs? Wouldn’t that slow down the process and ruin the high?”
Kellen nodded his head. “That doesn’t seem right to me.”
“The newspaper said she was found with the needle in her thigh. Com’mon, a needle in her thigh and its suicide?”
“Well she could have injected it the usual way and when she started seizing fell on the needle…that’s why they do autopsies.”
Ian nodded his head to process the information. “Thanks.”
“Why the concern? You doing a story on her or something?”
“No just a personal interest.”
Kellen couldn’t hide his surprise. “Personal interest? That I didn’t expect.”
Ian smiled. “No, no…NO! She came into my office last week for a series pitch. Granted, we’d only met the one time, but being a heroin addict. I bet not, and unless the bottom hit pretty quickly, I doubt that she was suicidal.”
“Did you accept her pitch or whatever phrase you use?”
“Well, not that one, but I encouraged her to refine it and gave her an open door to come back. She was determined and focused, not…what were the words the paper quoted…upset and depressed.”
“When was this?”
“Last week…” Ian thought. “Wednesday or Thursday morning. I could check the schedule and give you an exact day and time.”
“Tell you what, I still have a few friends downtown, good friends. I’ll tell them what you’ve told me and see what they think. If it turns out that any foul play was involved, some one will come and talk to you. Does that help?”
“Yes. Thank you. It’s just, if there’s a possibility…” Ian looked at Kellen. “I know in most people’s eyes this woman was a freak, a porn star, little more than a hooker, but she was a human being, and just trying to survive in, as you said, a town that’s not known for being nice. She doesn’t deserve to be written off as some nympho who did this to herself, especially if she didn’t.”
Kellen looked at Ian, the wheels in his head turning. “I understand.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re tired.” Kellen said. “I’m tired. I’ll get Ralphie home and let you get some sleep. Let’s uh, get together and have a drink sometime.”
“Sure…but for now, let’s make it tea.”
Kellen laughed. “Sure. Night, Ian.”
“Night”
He watched Kellen head back toward where the gate used to be, Ralphie following dutifully behind him. Ian watched until he was out of sight.
His mind was peacefully blank for a change. He knew he should be upset or something, anything. He didn’t feel empty; he just felt a strange peace. It was a nice change. He intended to just enjoy it.
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