Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You’re sure this’ll work?” Nate asked, doing his best not to telegraph his anxiety through body language. Keeping unnaturally still seemed just as likely to give him away, but at least it didn’t carry the same connotations as fidgeting.
“No,” his agent said. “But it probably will. The strategy you and Tim worked out is sound. And chances are, if they want to continue the show in this vein, you’re giving them an out anyway.”
Nate snorted a little. “Until they hear my caveats.”
“Carrot first, stick afterward,” Maddie reminded him, and then the door to the conference room opened and the network crew filed in.
Everyone stood for handshakes and introductions, and then Gary Mitchell gestured for them all to be seated.
Nate was glad they were doing this on the neutral ground of his agent’s office—just one of the perks of the network not having a major presence in Chicago.
“Gentlemen, Ms. Chapel.” Maddie nodded at her, and Nate caught her eyes across the table, trying to telegraph, Sorry for dragging you into this. “Thank you for coming. We appreciate that this is taking you away from time you’d rather be spending with your families.”
Maddie could have invited someone to eat shit and die and they’d have thanked her politely. Best agent ever.
Gary looked a little off balance as he answered, “Our business associates are family for us too.”
Backward. Nate made his family his business associates. But he kept his mouth shut.
Maddie smiled pleasantly, acknowledging the sentiment. “Mr. Mitchell, my client and I have no desire to waste your time. Mr. Overton is here to tender his resignation, effective immediately.”
The man to Gary’s left—he was the network’s in-house counsel, Nate remembered—put a hand on the table as though to forestall anyone else on his side from speaking. “Mr. Overton is aware, of course, that the penalty for early termination of his contract is two million dollars.”
“Mr. Overton can read, thanks,” Nate said before he could help himself.
Next to him, Tim put a restraining hand on his arm. Right. This was why he’d hired a specialist. “My client is aware of the fine print,” he said smoothly. “However, given the particulars of the situation, my client would like to propose an alternative settlement.”
From the sour-grapes look on his face, Gary didn’t like that much, but the lawyer didn’t seem surprised.
“Such as?”
That was from Royce, the show liaison. Nate didn’t think he particularly cared whether Nate was on his show or not, except for the fact that Nate had brought in part of a certain audience and now he was at risk of losing it. Good. He should be nervous.
Tim nodded to Nate, so he guessed that was his cue.
“Since the network’s acquisition of the show, the format has become a challenge for me.
I’ve gone from considered analyses of trades, salaries, and strategy to barstool coaching—from professional debate to antagonistic bickering. ” And your son’s a homophobic dickwad.
Jess’s mouth twitched briefly in an expression Nate interpreted as Give ’em hell.
“In short,” Maddie said before anyone could respond, “this is no longer the show Mr. Overton signed a contract for.”
“A court may not agree with you,” Gary’s counsel pointed out.
“Maybe not,” Tim allowed, “but my client is willing to take that chance.”
Nate was, but he wasn’t done either. “To be honest,” he said, “I’m not even sure why you want me on the show.
It seems pretty obvious that my cohost has an agenda that is anathema to my existence.
So I can only speculate that I’m still around because you knew you couldn’t take over a show and fire both gay hosts without backlash. ”
Direct hit. A muscle twitched at the corner of Gary’s jaw, and his temple throbbed visibly. “Mr. Overton, if you’re threatening us—”
“With what?” Nate said before he could help himself. “Telling the truth?”
Tim put a hand on his arm, but before he could speak, the network’s counsel stepped in. “I think we can guess where this is going.” He glanced at Tim. “You indicated your client has an alternative proposal?”
“Indeed.” Tim opened a folder and slid it smoothly across the table.
“These are the particulars. In short: Mr. Overton will announce he is taking a personal leave of absence that will last until his contract expires. Of course that will leave his position open and the network in the unenviable position of losing two high-profile gay hosts within a single month. In order to avoid further public relations challenges, the network will promote Kelly Ng to co-anchor for the duration. As a bisexual woman of color who is married to a female hockey player, promoting Ms. Ng is an obvious statement that the network values diversity in broadcasting.”
Nate had talked to her about it. Baseball season opened just as the NHL playoffs geared up.
Her contract didn’t have an expensive exit clause, though.
He wondered if she’d negotiate to stay until the NHL season ended or tell the network to take a hike in no uncertain terms. It wouldn’t be difficult to get a pinch-hitting host for playoff coverage.
They might even get an active player whose team hadn’t made the cut.
Mitchell looked like he’d been fed a mouthful of nails, but he kept his mouth shut at a motion from his lawyer.
“And what’s to stop anyone from speculating on the true reason for Mr. Overton’s departure?” the counsel asked.
Nate took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “I plan to announce my engagement to Aubrey Chase.”
Mitchell’s face turned a gratifying shade of purple, while Jess lost any semblance of ability to keep a straight face. “Congratulations!” she said, beaming.
“Yes, congratulations,” Royce said grudgingly.
“Nate and Aubrey are prepared to be very honest, Mr. Mitchell,” Maddie said.
“Not only about Nate’s treatment on the show these past few weeks and particularly at the hands of your son, who replaced Aubrey as co-anchor, but also about the details of their relationship, which began during their tenure together. ”
In other words, they could release true information that would make it look as though Aubrey had been fired specifically because of their relationship.
“Of course, they are also prepared to omit certain details and focus on another truth—that Mr. Chase was offered an opportunity to participate in a figure-skating show across the country and that Mr. Overton made arrangements to follow him as soon as was prudent, and that no one at the network had any knowledge of their relationship.”
It took another twenty minutes of hashing out details before they agreed on a course of action similar to what Nate and Tim had laid out. Nate had wanted to insist the network hire a diversity consultant, but they hadn’t managed to get them to agree to that stipulation.
Maybe this would teach them and they’d hire one anyway, but he had his doubts.
When it was all over, Nate slumped in his seat at the conference table. “Well, that was unpleasant.”
“But necessary.” Tim patted him on the shoulder. “I’ve got to go catch a flight back to my family. You want me to send Aubrey in?”
“Please,” Nate said pathetically.
Maddie smiled. “I’ll just give you the room.”
The door closed behind them, only to open again a second later. Aubrey stood in the doorway, his hair a disaster that spoke to how many times he must have run his hands through it. “So? How did it go?”
“My retirement fund is safe.”
“Oh, well, thank God.” Aubrey sagged into the chair beside him. Their hands found each other automatically.
Nate snorted. Aubrey had offered to simply pay the fee and be done with it. He hadn’t quite brought himself to ask exactly how rich Aubrey was, but he got the feeling two million was chump change. “You were worried, huh?”
“Obviously. Weddings are expensive.” He nudged Nate’s knee with his own. “At least the honeymoon’s paid for.”
On Christmas Day, Nate had printed out a copy of his gift to Aubrey—a two-week all-inclusive stay at an exclusive resort on Oahu, with flexible dates so they could go whenever the show had a break.
Aubrey had opened it and spent a moment in quiet reflection with his mouth slightly open, then looked up and said, a little faintly, “We should get married.”
Nate found himself unable—and unwilling—to disagree.
“Well, a man has priorities,” Nate said.
Aubrey squeezed his hand. “Yeah, he does.”