Chapter 3
I think I’m having an aneurysm. Or hallucinating. Or was hit by a biker walking home yesterday and this is some deep, dank circle of hell because there is no way they’re serious.
“We’re serious,” Landry says, like she can read my thoughts. Or maybe I spoke out loud. Hard to tell since I’ve lost all sense of mind, body, and spirit.
“But why?” I echo, stuck on that pesky little question.
William rolls his eyes but Landry laughs, a light, tinkling sound. “Because it will make great content, and that makes us money, my dear.”
“Landry, are you… are you sure that’s a good idea?” Aida asks, voice quiet. I could kiss her for that small kindness of challenging this terrible idea.
“Positive.” Landry’s black bob sways with her nod.
“It was William’s idea. He’s been looking for new ways to invigorate our viewership.
Then this perfect nugget fell right into our laps.
We’ll do the whole schtick. The hot dogs, bitchy Eva, Rylie can bring his bedazzled mic for all I care.
What matters is we get them in the same room and we move quickly while we have our audience in a chokehold.
There will be drama and banter while these two dig at this paltry hookup. Viewers will eat it up.”
William looks so smug my gut lurches.
“Isn’t this kind of—” I slam my mouth shut, scared to challenge this smart, accomplished woman whom I’ve always admired.
“Kind of what?” William says, something sharp and predatory in his eyes.
“Trashy?” I say the word softly, part of me hoping they don’t hear me.
Their silence indicates they definitely did, and I press on, trying to do some damage control.
“I mean, I know Soundbites is hip and has that perfect balance between trendy topics and hard-hitting news, and I just don’t want to distract from the latter. ”
William moves to speak, but Landry cuts him off.
“Miss Kitt,” she says, delicate voice barbed at the edges, indicating she’s only going to say this once so I better listen the fuck up.
“News outlets do not exist without revenue. Revenue, in the age of internet real estate, does not exist without advertisers and consumers seeing those advertisements. You went on social media and got a huge segment of our target demographic’s attention, and now they’re salivating like hungry little dogs for more.
I would be the world’s worst businesswoman to think anything trumps the capitalization on that, whether it’s earth-shattering reporting or some tawdry sex story.
Beggars can’t be choosers if they want to hit that bottom line. ”
My head spins as everything slips further out of control.
“I have the shareholder meeting to prep for,” William says. “Are you okay wrapping this up solo, Mom?”
“Of course.”
With a terse nod, William exits the call, leaving us to stare at each other.
“Let me guess,” Landry says after a moment, tilting her head to the side as she studies me.
“As a little girl, you dreamed of growing up and becoming a journalist. One of those real journalists with boots on the ground in conflict zones and delivering exposés on corporate greed and senators abusing the system. You watched Gilmore Girls and resonated with Rory and subsequently learned who Christiane Amanpour is and also made her your role model so you could be smart and clever whenever an adult asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up. You went to some prestigious college and got your expensive degree and expected the pieces to fall into place—the jobs and the beats and the exposure to outlets that would broadcast your voice far and wide as you brought truth to people.”
I go very still, shame cracking my skin as she paints me by the numbers.
“You didn’t grow up thinking your big break would be eating hot dogs and interviewing whatever mid-list celebrity is desperate enough for some coverage, and now you want to dig in your heels because you’re too good for this.”
“Perhaps we should…” Aida’s protest is weak, and Landry makes a cooing sound like she understands the sting of her words but knows they’re necessary. Maybe they are. Maybe I need a reminder of how pathetic my situation actually is.
“What I’m getting at, Eva,” she continues, a genuine look of care on her flawless face, “is that the world is not kind to your hopes and dreams, especially those of women. The universe does not give a damn about your plans and your aspirations and any of the grueling work you put in to reach them. The universe is random and harsh and throws whatever it wants at you, and all you can do is make the best of whatever shitty hand that is.”
Landry leans forward with a look so intense it feels like she’s in the room with me, peering into my skull, plucking out every withered dream by the roots as she tells me the truth.
“And sometimes, when you play what you think are your piss-poor cards, a miracle happens. A different force in the universe sees your effort, sees how hard you’re working and, maybe, just maybe , that force conspires to throw you a bone at the end of the deal.
Do you understand what I’m saying, Eva? Do you understand what might be at the end of playing this out? ”
My lips part, thoughts swirling and tangling with ideas that seem too good to be true. “Are you saying—”
“I’m speaking in metaphors, dear, that’s all.” Landry lifts her dainty hands, palms out. “Oh, sorry to change topics, but before I forget—Aida?”
Aida sits up in attention, jaw clenched and eyes lined with worry. “Yes?”
“Did you hear that Howards in the investigative group is leaving next month? Apparently he got a job at CNN.”
Aida’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “I… uh. No. I hadn’t heard.”
Landry nods primly, eyes off the screen again and fingers dancing across her keyboard.
“We’ll need to find his replacement soon.
Not that it has much to do with you, I’m just making myself a note.
Didn’t want to forget to spread the word to the production team.
Lots of transitions being made as William gets situated behind the wheel; deserving employees moving up while we cull the deadweight. You know how these things go. Anyway.”
Landry’s eyes are back on me, steady and focused and glinting while blood roars in my ears. She nods, almost imperceptibly, confirming the existence of the tiny carrot she’s dangling in front of me. “Soundbites is a family, a family that takes care of each other.”
While there are few traits more toxic than a corporation referring to its culture as family-like, I tamp down my revulsion, holding her gaze, thoughts spinning and teeth gritting with a sudden hunger for that hinted-at opportunity.
“And families are made up of team players,” Landry continues. “Are you a team player, Eva?”
I let out a choked grunt that hopefully sounds like agreement.
Now doesn’t seem like the best time to point out that teams are actually the ones made up of team players, and families , in the nuclear sense, are made up of genetically connected, emotionally scarred people doing their best not to strangle each other at any given time. …
I manage to give her a calm, cool nod. “I am.”
Landry’s smile is dazzling, teeth as perfectly white as the pearls roped around her neck. “Good. Then we’ll see you at the interview.”