by Holly Brown
“That’s a hilarious theory,” Daphne says, without a hint of laughter.
The fact is, it’s just a theory. Given enough time, perhaps Elyse could prove something about Daphne’s role, but there wasn’t time. It could very well be that Edwin had the surveillance installed and has been in the know all along. But despite everything, I don’t like thinking that. I want him to be at least a little innocent. To have genuinely cared about me, like I used to care about him.
I force myself to stay focused on Daphne. “Boys will be boys, right? Well, those boys are going to be arrested, and someone will talk.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Daphne levels her gaze at me. “Speaking of talking, do you know about your ex’s memoir?”
“Chase?”
“He’s writing a tell-all. About Until, and about you. How he fell under the spell of a charismatic mission and a charismatic woman. About his subsequent redemption. It’s just the kind of story people love. You know, the golden boy tarnished by the femme fatale with the low GPA and a suspicious amount of opportunity.”
I look at Edwin. Was he in on this too? He’s looking at Daphne. Either he’s a very good actor, which is certainly possible, or he’s genuinely surprised.
Daphne might not have had anything on me when I started at INN, but she made sure to have something for when I’m finished. Daphne’s turned Chase into ammunition.
Chase doesn’t have anything on me, not really, but he might think he does. He’s probably recast me in the role of an ambitious man-eater, and now every scene will be written from that perspective, every moment we shared. Memory is fragile and suggestible. I imagine Chase writing feverishly each day, becoming more convinced of his own victimhood, believing that this really is a redemption story that needs to be shared to protect others. I thought naked photos and video were mortifying, but the picture Chase will paint will be worse. INN has its hands all over this, but as with Beth, there will be no fingerprints.
Edwin hasn’t said a word since he and Daphne came into the studio together.
Daphne smiles. “So some overgrown frat boys were having a high-tech circle jerk. A few bad apples aren’t going to bring down a network. Look at Fox. But if I were you, I wouldn’t worry about us. I’d worry about yourself.”
I can’t help it, I turn to Edwin. Some part of me thought he would try to come to my rescue, even though I know full well that I’ve betrayed him. Still, I thought he cared about the country, if nothing else. At least, I can hope so.
“You’re better than this,” I tell him. “I know how INN operates and that you’re exploiting real journalists. You don’t need to do it this way. You have ideals. You’re a patriot. This is your chance to overthrow her.”
Now’s the time. When he gets rid of Ty, Graham, and the other bad apples, he can wipe out Daphne too. Blame her for all the surveillance and prove she was an accessory to sexual assault. Turn against her; send her to prison with the rest of them; purge the network. With her at the helm, nothing will ever change.
He says nothing. I can see by the look on his face that he’s no better than this. He has wiles but no courage. I’m not a reflection of him, but INN is.
I don’t know if he’ll get rid of Daphne or not, but I do know that he’ll turn this to his advantage. He’ll take to the AstroTurf and be the one who found out about the corruption and eradicated it. The hero. He doesn’t know news, but he knows spin.
“I don’t give a fuck what you do anymore,” I say, “but you’ll do it without me.”
“You still have a lot of time on your contract,” Daphne says. “That gives us plenty of options.”
“No. Because I have more tapes. Tonight was the tip of the iceberg.”
“You’re bluffing.” But Daphne doesn’t look so sure. What else could she have done?
“They’re hidden. They’re my insurance policy. Let me out of my contract, and you never have to know what’s on them.”
“Blackmail? Really?” Daphne looks at Edwin with something like admiration. “She’s a quick study.”
“My father’s taken a turn for the worse. I need to get back to Montana.”
“Cheyenne has left the network for personal reasons, we’ve so enjoyed her time here, she has a bright future . . . something like that?” Daphne muses. “And that’s all you want? We pay out the rest of your contract and call it even?”
“Works for me.”
After a long pause, Daphne says, “Done.”
“No. Not done,” Edwin says, his voice tight with anger. With Daphne? Or with me? My heart’s in my throat waiting to find out.
He comes around the anchor desk, and I’m paralyzed. I couldn’t move if I wanted to.
He squats beside me, like he’s about to propose. “I want you to stay. You don’t have to take Beth’s show, just her time slot. We’ll build a new show around you. You can work the young feminist angle. Scoop up the female millennials along with the males. You’ll be an inspiration. I was thinking too small for you. You’re so much more. I saw that tonight.”
Daphne gives him a look like he’s a puppy that’s just gone off-leash. “That’s not a decision we can make lightly—”
He ignores her. “Your own show. I want you here.”
For perhaps the first time, Daphne sees that Edwin’s interest in me isn’t strictly (or even primarily) professional, and she doesn’t like it. But she isn’t sure what to do about it, and that’s not a position she’s used to. Her mouth clamps shut, in a tight and aging line.
“We’ll capitalize on what you did tonight,” Edwin tells me. “You can change things for young women everywhere. You’re a role model. Continue what Beth started.”
“Edwin!” Daphne snaps. “We don’t think with our cocks at INN.”
I’m glad Daphne said that. It’s pulled me out of the reverie, from under Edwin’s spell. INN is the network where powerful men have been sexually assaulting young women under management’s noses, and if I stay to host the show Edwin is describing, then I’m a part of whitewashing it. I’d be helping to rehab INN’s reputation.
“My father’s dying,” I say. “I’m out.”
“After tonight,” Edwin says, “you’re going to be at the top of the misogynist hit list. INN can protect you. You walk away, and you’re on your own.”
I stare at him, a million thoughts stampeding through my mind in less than thirty seconds. It’s true, I don’t know what’s waiting for me out there. But you can’t always submit to the devil you know. We’re a country of risk-takers. “Then I guess I’m on my own.”
Edwin has the gall to look hurt. Daphne is relieved. “Done,” she says again. “We wish you all the best in your future endeavors. Far away from the media. Make sure you reread your contract.” She stands up and offers her hand. She’s clearly referencing the gag order.
I stand up, too, ignoring Daphne’s hand, which Daphne then lets drift gracefully back to her side. “I have one more condition. Stop impersonating me on social media. You’re not the real Cheyenne Florian, even if you stick the @ sign in front.”
I’ll go silent after tonight and let the story speak for itself. But I won’t be silent forever. I’ll be the one to decide when and where to use my voice.
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Independent News Network
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Independent News Network (commonly abbreviated to INN) is an American basic cable and satellite television news channel. It is owned by the Gordon Entertainment Group, a subsidiary of Gordon Enterprises.
The network launched with the slogan ”Because independent thinking is the only way out.” It was the brainchild of controversial billionaire Edwin Gordon . . .
Among the controversies is how he actually funds the network . . .
. . . the lack of transparency, when the network blasts opacity in government and at competing networks . . .
Recently, three different women who worked for Gordon earl
ier in his career have come forward with sexual harassment claims. They all ended their employment more than five years ago, and their attorney has stated that “the climate wasn’t right until now” to go public. The change in climate may relate to BathroomGate, and to #metoo. All three women claim the seduction started from their first meeting with Edwin Gordon, on his private jet . . .
INN, pre-BathroomGate
Edwin Gordon has spoken publicly about his influences: the early days of CNN, and the HBO/Aaron Sorkin show The Newsroom . . .
BathroomGate
During her brief but explosive tenure at the network, comely correspondent Cheyenne Florian presented a story of rampant sexual harassment and sexual assault occurring within INN. She broke the story on INN’s own television show Truthiness. Truthiness had been hosted by Beth Linford, who disappeared and was later found dead and had been living under an alias . . .
INN, post-BathroomGate
INN cooperated fully with the police investigation, which led to the indictment of six male staffers, some for sexual assault and others for accessory to sexual assault, including popular anchor Ty Fordham and two of his producers (Graham Edelman and Rich Garrett).
Edwin Gordon released public statements of contrition for his “unforgivable ignorance.” A legal team was brought in to do an independent investigation, and Gordon has complied with all recommendations. Those recommendations did not include him stepping down, though he has stated that he would if that’s in the best interest of INN and the country . . .
Many female staffers have spoken out in defense of Edwin Gordon and the network . . .
INN has brought in new anchors and correspondents, who are notably younger, reviving the old slogan “You can’t trust anyone over thirty.” Truthiness has become the first overtly feminist news show . . .
While Edwin Gordon has largely garnered kudos for his response to BathroomGate, some feminists have criticized him for stage-managing the crisis. At Salon, it’s been called a “well-orchestrated PR stunt, another way that he uses naive young women like Cheyenne Florian.”
Among the new staff is Reese Benson, a correspondent who was previously the personal assistant to Cheyenne Florian . . .
Ratings are up in all demographics, including the coveted eighteen- to thirty-five-year-olds . . .
Chapter 47
Though I’ve met Elyse before, somehow it’s different seeing her on the porch of Dad’s ranch house. She cuts an even more imposing figure.
“Who’s at the door?” Dad calls from inside.
“Elyse Rohrbach,” I call back.
“Well, damn! Invite her in!”
Elyse and I both laugh. “Do you want to come in?”
“Why don’t we just sit out here for a while? I love porch swings.”
I’m going to sit on a porch swing with the Elyse Rohrbach. Broadcasting legend, feminist icon, diary writer.
We sit next to each other companionably, rocking in tandem, in sync.
“Thank you again for all you did to bring down INN,” I say. “I wish it had worked.”
“No, thank you. You were the brave one. Besides, we did all right for our first time out.”
It doesn’t feel all right. Edwin’s gotten his controversy, as well as plenty of kudos for his supposed personal integrity; Daphne hasn’t been indicted; the ratings are way up, particularly among millennials. Reese had a long meeting with Edwin and decided to drink the Kool-Aid.
“People—and networks—can change,” she said. Maybe I would have done the same thing if this had been my dream since I was six years old.
But it’s not. And I’m not a public figure anymore; I’m a denizen of Tulip. While there’s a lot of internet talk about what people would like to do to me, I feel safe here. The residents protect their own, and many of them are packing heat.
Edwin’s been calling. Changing my number does no good; blocking his number doesn’t work. At first, his messages attempted to woo me back to the network, promising escalating sums of money. In his last voice mail, he tried a new angle: Now that I don’t work for him, we could really make a go of it. Once the dust settles, we could be a great power couple.
As if my power will ever come through him again. I almost responded to that, but I realized that’s probably what he was going for. He was trying to make me angry enough to engage him.
Never again.
“Justice didn’t go far enough,” Elyse says, “but then, it never does. There are incremental steps forward, which is why you have to keep pushing. They want you to get frustrated and give up.” She looks at me intently. “You seem like a natural.”
“I worked hard, but I don’t know if journalism—”
“I meant you seem like a natural activist.”
I smile. Considering the source, it might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.
“Did INN just release you from your contract?” Elyse raises an eyebrow. “Generous of them.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t.
“I already know some things. For example, I know that it might be a little while before you feel like speaking up. Five years, maybe.” Elyse winks. “For the purposes of this conversation, is it okay if I talk and you just listen? That doesn’t violate any agreements, does it?”
“Not that I know of.”
“I’ve heard that some media organizations have gag orders. Can you imagine what must be going on to need a gag order? It boggles the mind.”
I don’t respond.
“Gag orders should be unconstitutional, just like forced arbitration. And we’re making inroads on the forced arbitration front, so I figure might as well tackle this next. We’re looking for a test case.”
I could never take on INN by myself, but Elyse’s backing could be a game changer. I’m just not sure I want to play anymore.
“I’m not only about women’s issues, Cheyenne. I’m about human issues. I believe, firmly, that the ends do not justify all means. INN did some good stories, but how it got them matters. People need to get creative enough to find means that are worthy of the ends. They also need to remember there are cameras everywhere.”
I was bluffing when I talked about more video, but could Elyse actually have some?
“I’m starting a new foundation, and I need a few good women. It’s going to be a revolution. A well-funded revolution.” The penalties on the gag order are trump change for Elyse Rohrbach.
But I believe in full disclosure. “You should know that my ex, Chase, is writing a book. It’s going to paint me in a pretty negative light.”
Elyse laughs. “You mean the man you dumped because he wanted to make mind control mainstream?” I laugh too. “Now that we’ve got that idiot out of the way, are you with me?”
We’re looking into each other’s eyes. An electric current travels between us, a bond across the generations. I want to say yes, but I’ve gotten into trouble this way before.
“Let me think about it,” I say. “I need to do my research.”
“Good answer.”
“I’m sure I’ll have a lot more questions soon, but I do have one right now. Could I pass your diary along? I know someone who could use it.” Maybe networks really can change. But just in case, Reese could benefit from a history lesson.
“Be my guest.” Elyse smiles, stands up, and says she’ll be in touch. As she turns to go, I see the lily-white etching on the side of her face, blade-thin.
I wouldn’t mind being scarred like that.
Acknowledgments
Love and thanks to my friends and family, especially to my parents, who believed I could do anything, and to the other two legs of my tripod, Darrend and Daisy, who make me want to do it all.
I am so appreciative of my agent, Elisabeth Weed, and my editor, Carrie Feron, for standing by me and supporting my aims as a woman, a mother, and a thriller writer. This book has gone through multiple extensive rewrites in a relatively short time, and while at times it was hard to face down the pages again, I’m ext
remely pleased by how far it’s come. Thanks for always pushing, Carrie, in the best way.
I’m very grateful to Lisa Sharkey at HarperCollins for lending her vast knowledge and expertise of the media world. She was great at figuring out how realistic details could also become exciting plot points. And she wasn’t even assigned to my book; she was just that generous. Harper is full of tremendously dedicated and talented professionals, and I’m so glad I’ve gotten to work with Sharyn Rosenblum, Julie Paulauski, Kaitlin Harri, and Carolyn Coons. Thanks for being on my team!
This book is close to my heart because I have a little girl and I want her to grow up to know that her gifts are about so much more than her sexuality, and her power is equal to any male’s. This is a unique cultural moment, and I’m proud that this novel can come out in its midst. We all bear responsibility for shaping a future where everyone can safely live up to their potential.
Me too.
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About the Author
Meet Holly Brown
HOLLY BROWN lives with her husband and daughter in the San Francisco Bay Area, where she’s a practicing marriage and family therapist. She is the author of the novels Don’t Try to Find Me, A Necessary End, and This Is Not Over.
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About the Book
Story Behind the Book
I suppose you could say How Far She’s Come was inspired by the 2016 election, though it was arguably the least inspirational election in history. It might be more accurate to say that the election provoked a series of incredibly strong emotions in me, waves upon waves, much like grief, and I felt the desire to channel them creatively. At first, I was in a state of shocked outrage over having a president who’d bragged—on tape!!!!—about grabbing women “by the pussy.” But stopping with outrage serves no one. It’s far better to step back and reflect on the larger culture that made this election result conceivable, to consider how far women and society have come, and how far we still have to go. Because psychological suspense is my métier, I decided to do it with a workplace thriller. Since Gretchen Carlson had gotten Roger Ailes ousted from Fox around the time I began, the setting of a cable news network just felt right.
