CHAPTER THREE

      As an Emmy Award winning reporter, you'd think I'd be able to investigate my own life. But despite the tabloids seemingly permanent pipeline to that network "source" I've not been able to find out a damn thing about the decision to replace Katrina. Even Scott has been no help, apparently being left out of the loop after pleading my case to the network. (He also told the bigwigs his apprehension about working with a glamazon who made him look like a hobbit when she stood next to him in heels that took her up to six-foot-four.)

      Oh, and that resolution I made to forget it and smell the roses? Fuhgeddaboudit. That barn door has sailed, as we say in the news business.

      By Friday I had turned into a teenage girl hoping for a date to the prom. Every time the phone rang I jumped, waiting for news that would at least resolve the situation. Luckily Savannah has asked me to lunch, obviously noting I had become a walking frayed nerve ending.

      While Layla is my best friend, Savannah is a world class expert at putting things in perspective with that Southern way of looking at things. (The laid-back and relaxed view of life, not that of her relatives whose family trees are of the pine variety with reunions that might have been accompanied by banjo music.) And since she works in politics, she always knows how to spin things. The girl could make a colonoscopy sound like fun.

      Since I would be off to work in an hour I sadly bypassed the glass of wine I really needed in favor of club soda with lime. Savannah had chosen a quiet, elegant restaurant featuring soft violin music instead of my usual preference, a loud place with flat screens filled with ballgames that served kick-ass fried cheese.

      "Y'all look so pretty today," she said, as always starting things off with a compliment.

      "Considering I've hardly slept all week, I'm sure you're being polite."

      "Well, you can't handle this all by yourself, sweetie. If you don't let go of the worry, you're fixin' to have a nervous breakdown."

      "I think that happened when I saw my picture in The Post."

      "Hey, you did well in the poll. Against Noelle, that's saying something."

      I nodded slightly, realizing she had a point. I had expected a landslide in favor of the competition, but I actually came in a close second with forty-eight percent of the vote. "I was surprised at that, considering the photo of her that they ran."

      "Did y'all forget that morning shows are predominantly watched by women? They don't want to tune in and watch a girl who looks like a wanton harlot."

      "Wanton harlot?"

      "Genteel Southern way of calling her a cheap bimbo." Savannah sipped her glass of wine as she looked over the menu. "That dress she almost wore was not exactly appropriate."

      "Yeah, but a few years ago her producer was quoted as saying her legs were worth five share points. Why do you think they never put her behind a desk?"

      "Let's not talk about that trollop anymore."

      "I guess we could talk about the boyfriend I no longer have."

      "You havin' second thoughts about throwin' your dog off the porch?"

      I chuckled at the Southernism I'd never heard before. "Hell, no. He needs to move to Connecticut and find himself some Junior Leaguer who will bring him his slippers when he gets home, put on her kneepads and service him when the lights go out. Then send him a thank you note for not taking more than ten minutes."

      She snapped her menu closed and waved for the waiter. "Ah'm sorry that didn't work out, but it's for the best. You don't need a man like that. You've got too much goin' for you."

      "But not quite enough for the network."

      "Will y'all stop it? You're young, you've got that beautiful red hair and those darling little freckles and gorgeous eyes and a great body. Plus you're smart and you've got a great job that you love." She leaned forward and gave me a soulful look. "And friends who love you."

      "I know, I shouldn't complain. I really do have a lot to be thankful for. And I do appreciate you guys more than you know. But the shot at the evening anchor job comes along once in a lifetime."

      "I guess we're not going to get off that subject. By the way, did you find out who is leaking all that information to the newspaper?"

      "I don't have concrete proof, but it's gotta be the producer. However, he may have been under orders from the network president. That's the one thing that worries me about the job."

      "What's that?"

      "That if I get it, there's someone there I already can't trust."

      ***

      My cell rang just as I left the station for my dinner break. I pulled it from my purse and felt my pulse quicken as I saw the name of the caller.

      Scott.

      "Hey there," I said. "Up past your bedtime?"

      "It's Friday. I can be a night owl and stay up till eight. Might sleep in till four."

      "Wow, aren't you the wild child. So, what's up?"

      "I have good news and bad news."

      I stopped walking and leaned against a store display window. A cute guy recognized me and smiled, so I smiled back. "Give me the bad news first."

      "Let me preface this by telling you something I've never told anyone. The air duct in my private bathroom connects to Gavin's office. So I've pretty much heard everything he's said for the past two years."

      "Just give me the bad news!"

      I heard him exhale deeply. "They offered the job to Noelle."

      My heart sank, the color drained from my face as my knees weakened. My body slid down against the glass as I went into a crouch. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. I'm sure you'll do well with her."

      "Don't you want the good news?"

      "What, that I came in second and should be happy I got that far?"

      "You should."

      "That's your definition of good news?"

      "It's a very important part of it. Because, and listen to my words very closely. She didn't take the job."

      My head snapped to attention. "Wow. You're kidding!"

      "Hey, I spent an hour in the can this afternoon listening to their negotiations. She wanted Katrina's salary, a five year contract, and a signing bonus. Basically a package worth a hundred and ten million."

      "Holy shit!"

      "They offered eight million a year for three years, no bonus. Bottom line, she got very insulted, showed her true colors and ripped Gavin a new one. Told him to go screw himself and walked out. She didn't just burn the bridge, she napalmed the damn thing. I thought Katrina was a bitch but this woman has raised it to an art form. Anyway, turns out she had another offer in her pocket from a syndicator that offered more money for her to do daytime talk without getting up in the middle of the night. I just found out she signed this afternoon."

      "Scott, I'm blown away."

      Long pause. "So, you want the good news?"

      "There's more?"

      "Do the math, kiddo. You came in second and should be happy you got that far."

      My eyes widened and my adrenaline pushed me up to a standing position. "Are you saying … "

      "You'll