Private Scandals

pills into his hand. “He’d bitch about Angela. He knew he could to me, that it wouldn’t go any further. He’d tell me some of the wilder ideas her team had come up with for segments. Maybe he’d ask who we were lining up. And I’d tell him.” He swallowed the pills audibly. “I’d tell him, because we were just two old friends talking shop. I never put it together until this minute, Dee. I swear to Christ.”
    “All right, Simon. So we know how, we know why. What are we going to do about it?”
    “Hire somebody to go to New York and break all of Lew McNeil’s fingers,” Fran suggested as she rose to go stand beside the clearly distressed Simon.
    “I’ll give that some thought. In the meantime, the new policy is not to discuss any guests, any topic ideas or any of the developmental stages of the show outside of the office. Agreed?”
    There was a general murmuring. No one made eye contact.
    “And we have a new goal. One we’re all going to concentrate on.” She paused, waiting until she could skim her gaze over each face. “We’re going to knock Angela’s out of the number-one spot within a year.” She held up a hand to stop the spontaneous applause. “I want everyone to start thinking about ideas for remotes. We need to start taking this show on the road. I want sexy locations, funny locations. I want the exotic, and I want Main Street, USA.”
    “Disney World,” Fran suggested.
    “New Orleans, for Mardi Gras,” Cassie put in, and lifted her shoulders. “I always wanted to go.”
    “Check it out,” Deanna ordered. “I want six doable locations. I want all the topic ideas we have cooking on my desk by the end of the day. Cassie, make a list of all the personal appearance requests I’ve got and accept them.”
    “How many?”
    “All of them. Fit them into my schedule. And put in a call to Loren Bach.” She sat back and rested her palms on the surface of the desk. “Let’s get to work.”
    “Deanna.” Simon stepped forward as the others filed out. “Can I have a minute?”
    “Just,” she said, and smiled. “I want to get started on this campaign.”
    He stood stiffly in front of her desk. “I know it might take you a little time to replace me, and that you’d like a smooth transition. I’ll hand in my resignation whenever you want.”
    Deanna was already drawing a list on a legal pad in front of her. “I don’t want your resignation, Simon. I want you to use that wily brain of yours to put me on top.”
    “I screwed up, Dee. Big time.”
    “You trusted a friend.”
    “A competitor,” he corrected. “God knows how many shows I sabotaged by opening my big mouth. Shit, Dee, I was bragging, playing ‘My job’s bigger than your job.’ I wanted to needle him because it was the only way I could stick it to Angela.”
    “I’m giving you another way.” She leaned forward, eyes keen. She felt the power in her now, and she would use it, she knew, to finish what Angela had begun. “Help me knock her out of the top slot, Simon. You can’t do that if you resign.”
    “I can’t figure why you’d trust me.”
    “I had a pretty good idea where the leak had come from. Simon, I spent enough time around here to know you and Lew were tight.” She spread her fingers. “If you hadn’t told me, you wouldn’t have had to offer to resign. I’d have fired you.”
    He rubbed a hand over his face. “So I admit to being a jerk and I keep my job.”
    “That about sums it up. And I expect, because you’re feeling like one, you’ll work even harder to put me on top.”
    More than a little dazed, he shook his head. “You picked up a few things from Angela after all.”
    “I got what I needed,” she said shortly. She snatched up her phone when it buzzed. “Yes, Cassie?”
    “Loren Bach on one, Deanna.”
    “Thanks.” She let her finger hover over the button as she glanced back at Simon. “Are we straight on this?”
    “As an arrow.”
    She waited until the door shut behind Simon, then drew in a deep breath. “Loren,” she said when she made the connection. “I’m ready to go to war.”
     
    In the cold, gloomy hours of a February morning, Lew kissed his wife goodbye. She stirred sleepily, and gave his cheek a pat before snuggling under the down quilt for another thirty-minute nap.
    “Chicken stew tonight,” she mumbled. “I’ll be home by three to put it on.”
    Since their children had grown, each had fallen into a comfortable morning routine. Lew left his wife