The Big Fudge Cake #4
“But, but I thought you cleared this with your lawyer?” Emma-Lou stammered, wheeling round on Trinity; her bangs, one glamorous step behind like a dancer punctuating a tango twirl with a kick.
“These are all cease and desist letters,” Carrington said dully. “No praise. Just complaints. They demand that the Trinity Radio Hour is pulled from the airwaves immediately.”
“But we did! We cleared it! He said it was fine. He even listened to the Ricky Martin one, he said it was catchy!” Rebekkah protested, hands splayed protectively over her cheeks, giving her the look of a middle-aged woman impersonating Jim Carrey/Anne Heche impersonating Macauley Culkin.
“Weinus, Weinus, and Ware have been cashing all our retainer cheques for the station and as attorneys of record for Trinity…” Carrington said, already preparing for an audit.
“Wait, Trinity works with Weinus, Weinus, and Ware too?” Emma-Lou blinked. “They’re representing the radio station and the talent?”
“It appears so,” Suwarna said, shoulders squared and tense.
“And we’re paying for both sides?” Emma-Lou asked, sensing her business was a house of cards, and she, the fool who had built it on sand.
“We have to clean all that money somehow,” Carrington said. “Do you know how much they charge per hour? We can move a lot through them.”
“Who’s your lawyer? Stanford?” Emma-Lou asked, voice pitching up at the end like a prayer.
“Umm… no, Micah is our lawyer,” Japheth said, cheeks pink with the mention of his name. “I’m sure he’s going to swoop in and clear this all up. I’m sure it’s just a tiny, little misunderstanding. Micah will save the day, just you wait.”
“Who?” Emma-Lou asked, baffled.
“Micah,” Ronald said. “We’re not sure if he’s a Weinus, Weinus, or a Ware actually.”
“He saves orphans. Plays rec hockey. Has a billboard on Oak Street?” Japheth added hopefully.
“A real stud,” Rebekkah said, then flinched at her own reflection in the cake knife. It was worse than she could have imagined.
“I’ve never seen him around the office. He must be new?” Emma-Lou frowned, tapping the desk in an escalating staccato that raced along with her thoughts.
“Micah works in the MANHATTAN office,” Japheth explained, capitals audible.
“Manhattan office?!” Emma-Lou echoed, just as the lobby doors opened and some fine-ass Italian leather shoes, glossy as sin, pointed as opinions, carried a fine-assed Italian across the entrance. Emma-Lou gave a big wave to Rino, then spun to face her team.
“Call him!” Emma-Lou snapped at Trinity, taking big gulps of air to swallow her panic, regretting that she’d dispensed her worst-case-scenario paper bag to Rebekkah. “Fix this! We can’t pull the Trinity Radio Hour or we’ll lose our listeners. And our advertisers!”
“And Emma-Lou might…” Suwarna added, lifting the cake knife and making a cutting-across-the-throat gesture that was anything but subtle, “Kkkkk-kkkk-kkkkkk.”
Rino Ferrari arrived with a wake of expensive cologne and the whisper of danger at his heels. He was tailored in charcoal, shirt unbuttoned just enough to confess a crucifix among generous black curls of chest hair, his smile a beneficent blessing. He spread his arms wide and purred, “Piacere!”
“Oh my…” Carrington breathed, recalculating a life plan and eyeing the exits.
“Oh fuck,” Emma-Lou muttered, then crossed herself by reflex.
“Rino! You look extremely…mmm… and you smell so…” Japheth chirped, unable not to fawn in the man’s presence.
“Come sta il mio piccino?” Rino asked, voice honeyed whiskey.
“Still don’t know what you’re saying but love when you speak your romance language!” Japheth beamed.
“What’s this about pulling the Trinity Radio Hour? Losing listeners? Advertisers? And what happened to your hair, Rebekkah?!” Rino asked, equal parts investor and concerned aunt.
“Nothing to worry about Rino! It’s all under control. We’re fixing it!” Emma-Lou said much too fast.
“Her hair? How?” Rino blinked.
“That can’t be fixed,” Emma-Lou admitted, then rallied. “But the listeners, the advertisers, their show–it’s all gonna be fine! I promise, this is just a little set-back.”
“I was in such a good mood,” Rino said, his smile tightening. “Coming to see some of my favourite people.”
“Ronald, Rebekkah, Japheth,” Emma-Lou said, voice firm in the way a mother lets her children know in public that now is not the time for shenanigans. “Call your lawyer. Now!”
Japheth fumbled his Nokia like a bar of wet soap, Ronald mouthed the number by heart to help his bromantic partner out, “One-eight-hundred, AXI-”, and Rebekkah, keeping an eye on Rino, reached blindly into her purse and fished around in the hopes of finding a scarf or a stack of napkins she could origami into a headdress that would be less shocking for anyone who might glance in her direction.
She settled on using the worst-case-scenario paper bag.
Using her fingers, she poked two eye holes in approximation of where she figured hers would be and plopped the bag over her head.
Japheth cratered as he heard the familiar beep-beep-beep of the line signaling busy. “I can’t get through just now; he must be on a call with an orphan. Or blocking out a scene with a hockey costar.”
Just then, the fax machine rang, sputtered, and coughed up a single page.
Carrington trotted over and ripped the perforated page from the tray.
At the top, in beautiful graphic design, was the letterhead of Weinus, Weinus, & Ware, LLC.
Underneath, in bold type and all caps was a brief notice addressed to Trinity and WWJD.
WITHOUT PREJUDICE
NOTICE OF REPRESENTATION CHANGE.
WEINUS, WEINUS, & WARE, LLC REGRETTABLY WOULD LIKE TO INFORM YOU THAT DUE TO A CHANGE OF HEART, WE WILL NO LONGER BE ABLE TO REPRESENT YOU.
SINCERELY,
WEINUS, WEINUS, & WARE LLC
P.S. WARE WEAR & WARES WOULD LIKE TO IMMEDIATELY CANCEL ALL SCHEDULED COMMERCIAL SPOTS DURING THE TRINITY RADIO HOUR.
P.P.S IT’S NOT YOU, IT’S US.
P.P.P.S. BUT ALSO, YOUR STICKY SITUATION.
GOOD LUCK.