“Oh, no, the idea behind this is education. Illumination.”
Ozzie, the station manager and my boss, was also at the meeting, sitting across from the two producers and acting way too obsequious. He leaned forward, eager, smiling back and forth between them and me. So, he thought this was a good idea. Matt, my sound guy, sat in the back corner and pantomimed eating popcorn, wearing a wicked grin.
I had a feeling I was being fed a line, that they were telling me what would most likely get me to agree to their show. And that they’d had a totally different story for everyone else they’d talked to.
I hadn’t built my reputation on being coy and polite, so I laid it out for Mr. Provost. “Your shows aren’t exactly known for… how should I put this… having any redeeming qualities whatsoever.”
He must have dealt with this criticism all the time, because he had the response all lined up. “Our shows reveal a side of life that most people have no access to.”
“Trainwrecks, you mean.”
Valenti, who had watched quietly until now, opened his briefcase and consulted a page he drew out. “We have Tina McCannon of Paradox PI on board. Also… Jeffrey Miles, the TV psychic. I think you’re familiar with them?” He met my gaze and matched my stare. One predator sizing up another. Suddenly, I was the one who wanted to look away.
“You got Tina to agree to this? And Jeffrey?”
Both of them were psychics; Tina worked with a team of paranormal investigators on prime-time TV, and Jeffrey did the channeling-dead-relatives thing on daytime talk shows. I’d had adventures with them both, and the prospect of spending two weeks in a cabin in the middle of nowhere taping a TV show was a lot more attractive if I’d be doing it with them.
“What do you think, Kitty? Do we have a deal?”
I needed to make some phone calls. “Can I get back to you on that? I need to check my schedule. Talk it over with my people.” Most of my people were already in the room, but the Hollywood talk amused me.
“Of course. But don’t take too long. We want to move on this quickly. Before someone else steals the idea.” Provost actually winked at that, and his smile never faltered. Valenti had settled back and was regarding me coolly.
“You’re not scheduling this over a full moon, are you?” I said.
“Oh, no, certainly not,” Provost said, way too seriously.
“Just one more question,” I said. “Have you signed on Mercedes Cook?”
Provost hesitated, as if unsure which answer would be the right one. I knew which answer was the right one: if the Broadway star/vampire/double-crossing fink was on the show, I was staying as far away as possible.
“No,” he said finally. “She turned us down flat.”
Wonders never ceased. But they’d asked her. And she’d said no, so that was a point in the show’s favor. “Ah. Good,” I said, and Provost relaxed.
We managed polite farewells and handshakes. Ozzie and I walked the two producers outside to their rented BMW. Provost continued to be gracious and flattering. Valenti stayed in the background. Sizing me up, I couldn’t help but think.
After they’d driven away, we returned to the building. The summer sun beat down. It had been a beautiful day, a recent heat spell had broken, and the air felt clean. Smelled like rain.
I turned to Ozzie. “Well?”
He shrugged. “I think it’s a great opportunity. But it’s up to you. You’re the one who’s going to have to go through with it.”
“I just wish I knew what kooky tricks they have up their sleeves. What are going to be the consequences if I do this?”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” he said.
I hated that question. Reality always came up with so much worse than I could imagine. “I could make an idiot of myself, ruin my reputation, lose my audience, my ratings, my show, and never make a living in this business again.”
“No, the worst that could happen is you’d die on film in a freak accident, and how likely is that?” Trust Ozzie to be the realist. I glared at him.
“Who knows? At best it’ll draw in a whole new audience. To tell you the truth, with people like Tina and Jeffrey involved, it kind of sounds like fun.”
“You know what I’m going to say,” Ozzie said. “Any publicity is good publicity.”
So far in my career, that had been true. I was waiting for the day when it wasn’t. “Let me call Tina and Jeffrey and find out why they signed on.”
* * *
I had Tina’s cell phone number stored on speed dial—she was one of my go-to people on all things weird—and called her as soon as I got back to my office and shut the door. I expected it to roll over to voice mail but was pleasantly surprised when she answered on the second ring.
“Kitty!” she said, before hello even. Caller ID made everyone psychic, at least with phone calls.
“Hi, Tina. How are you?”
“It’s so good to hear from you! Is everything okay?”
People always sounded worried when I called them. Maybe because I only ever called a lot of them when I was in trouble and needed help. I needed to set up more lunch dates or have more parties, to cure people of the idea that a call from me automatically equaled danger. Then again, that was probably a lost cause.
“Everything’s fine for once, I think.”
“I love how you never sound sure when you say that,” Tina said cheerfully.
I sighed. “I’m afraid if I relax at all the universe will decide I need a challenge.” Which brought me to the business at hand. “I’ve just had a visit from a couple of guys with SuperByte Entertainment.”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “Those guys. What a couple of freaks, huh?”
I agreed; I’d found them eerily plastic, like they’d been pressed from a mold: Hollywood sleazebag. “This show
