intention of taking it beyond that. I smiled back and stepped off the set. Carter wandered off in the opposite direction, and I started to look for Alex, eager to hear his feedback on our segment. Suddenly I caught the movement of something bright red off to the right, like a streaking flame. I turned my head. Vicky Cruz had just barged into the newsroom, her face covered in some kind of makeup primer and half her head full of Velcro rollers.
“Where’s your producer?” she demanded, charging toward me. Her green eyes were hard with rage.
“You mean Tom?” I asked. I wondered what he’d done to make Vicky nearly foam at the mouth.
“I have no fucking clue what his name is,” Vicky said. “I just want the guy in charge.”
“He’s probably in the control room,” I said. I had no sympathy for the hissy fit she seemed ready to throw, but I also knew that with Vicky, it was smart to be diplomatic. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“How did Jack Baylor end up on this show?” she snapped.
By this point the whole newsroom had gone silent except for a monitor playing commercials before the eight o’clock show.
“You mean how did we make it happen?” I asked. “The old-fashioned way. We just called and booked him.” Did she have something against Baylor? I wondered. Like she’d dated him and he’d dumped her? Well, tough . That wasn’t our problem.
“ You decided to book him?” Vicky’s voice was nearly a snarl. Where in the world was this going: On the far side of the newsroom, behind where Vicky was standing, I saw Alex rise from his chair. He was going to take the blame, but I couldn’t let him.
“Yes,” I said.
Vicky took a step closer and eyed me with cold calculation. “You had no fucking right to do that,” she yelled. “Don’t you dare ever try anything like that again.”
chapter 4
I couldn’t believe she was talking to me that way. I started to respond, to ask what the problem was with Baylor, when I sensed someone come up behind me. Then Carter was standing right next to me. Crap, I thought. What I didn’t need at the moment was a dude playing action hero.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not getting what the issue is, Vicky,” Carter said. I could tell by his tone that he was being careful, trying not to make the situation worse, but also signaling he wouldn’t let Vicky flatten him like a tank.
“Baylor belongs to my show,” she told him. “She had no fucking business calling him.”
“Belongs to your show?” Carter said, clearly puzzled.
Vicky let her face sag in mock dismay at his ignorance. “Baylor’s been under contract with my show for the past year,” she said. “He is not allowed to discuss politics on another program without express permission from me or my executive producer. Of course, if you want to invite him on to talk about Justin Bieber’s latest hairstyle or the size of Kim Kardashian’s ass, be my guest.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t aware of any contract.”
“You didn’t assume , based on how often he’s on my show, that there had to be a contract?” Vicky snapped.
“Look, Vicky,” Carter said, “as Robin said, we’re sorry. We’re all big fans of you and your show, and we would never intentionally poach a guest of yours. You can spank me right here in front of everyone if it makes you feel any better.”
Vicky let out a breath between her pouty, collagen-pumped lips. She seemed appeased. “Don’t tempt me,” she said after a moment. Then she turned on her heel and charged out of the newsroom.
All around me, I sensed people exhaling. I looked at Carter. “Maybe she’s just having a bad hair day,” I said sarcastically, though inside I was fuming. Before Carter could reply, I stalked back to my office and slammed the door.
For the next few minutes I sat there, pissed as hell by what had happened. Though I’d known Vicky had a reputation as an über-bitch, I couldn’t believe she’d tried to tear my
“Where’s your producer?” she demanded, charging toward me. Her green eyes were hard with rage.
“You mean Tom?” I asked. I wondered what he’d done to make Vicky nearly foam at the mouth.
“I have no fucking clue what his name is,” Vicky said. “I just want the guy in charge.”
“He’s probably in the control room,” I said. I had no sympathy for the hissy fit she seemed ready to throw, but I also knew that with Vicky, it was smart to be diplomatic. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“How did Jack Baylor end up on this show?” she snapped.
By this point the whole newsroom had gone silent except for a monitor playing commercials before the eight o’clock show.
“You mean how did we make it happen?” I asked. “The old-fashioned way. We just called and booked him.” Did she have something against Baylor? I wondered. Like she’d dated him and he’d dumped her? Well, tough . That wasn’t our problem.
“ You decided to book him?” Vicky’s voice was nearly a snarl. Where in the world was this going: On the far side of the newsroom, behind where Vicky was standing, I saw Alex rise from his chair. He was going to take the blame, but I couldn’t let him.
“Yes,” I said.
Vicky took a step closer and eyed me with cold calculation. “You had no fucking right to do that,” she yelled. “Don’t you dare ever try anything like that again.”
chapter 4
I couldn’t believe she was talking to me that way. I started to respond, to ask what the problem was with Baylor, when I sensed someone come up behind me. Then Carter was standing right next to me. Crap, I thought. What I didn’t need at the moment was a dude playing action hero.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not getting what the issue is, Vicky,” Carter said. I could tell by his tone that he was being careful, trying not to make the situation worse, but also signaling he wouldn’t let Vicky flatten him like a tank.
“Baylor belongs to my show,” she told him. “She had no fucking business calling him.”
“Belongs to your show?” Carter said, clearly puzzled.
Vicky let her face sag in mock dismay at his ignorance. “Baylor’s been under contract with my show for the past year,” she said. “He is not allowed to discuss politics on another program without express permission from me or my executive producer. Of course, if you want to invite him on to talk about Justin Bieber’s latest hairstyle or the size of Kim Kardashian’s ass, be my guest.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t aware of any contract.”
“You didn’t assume , based on how often he’s on my show, that there had to be a contract?” Vicky snapped.
“Look, Vicky,” Carter said, “as Robin said, we’re sorry. We’re all big fans of you and your show, and we would never intentionally poach a guest of yours. You can spank me right here in front of everyone if it makes you feel any better.”
Vicky let out a breath between her pouty, collagen-pumped lips. She seemed appeased. “Don’t tempt me,” she said after a moment. Then she turned on her heel and charged out of the newsroom.
All around me, I sensed people exhaling. I looked at Carter. “Maybe she’s just having a bad hair day,” I said sarcastically, though inside I was fuming. Before Carter could reply, I stalked back to my office and slammed the door.
For the next few minutes I sat there, pissed as hell by what had happened. Though I’d known Vicky had a reputation as an über-bitch, I couldn’t believe she’d tried to tear my
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