“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 Shakespearean 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” Daryn 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 one 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 his 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.I just 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, carrying her out like a 60’s protester. 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 eight 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, eight years without a blow job? But why’s she mad?”
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