No Biz Like Showbiz

by Julie Moffett

  His face broke into a big smile. “A techie. Thank God. It’s great to meet a like mind. I’m Anson Oxlong. I’m a professional gamer for Wicked Fish Games.”

  “Nice. Done any work on ‘Temporal Labyrinth’?”

  “You know ‘Temporal’?” He looked surprised.

  “Of course. Got to Level 16, but couldn’t get past the Seismic Sorcerer.”

  “Ha! That was partially my creation. Damn. I hate to say it, but I’m missing my job right now. A lot.”

  The redheaded guy stood up. “I’m Truman Clark. I’m a paranormal investigator for Black of Night. It’s my own investigative company. But I also have a Ph.D. in Cognitive and Computer Science, so I’m tech friendly. What kind of issues have you got? Maybe I can help. God, please give me something useful to do.”

  I looked around at the other guys. “I just might. Actually, I came here specifically because I’d like to pick your brains. The show has a follower who is, let’s say, a bit of a stalker and it’s got the television suits worried. I’d like to track him down. Maybe you have an idea or any thoughts as to who might want to bring the show down?”

  Anson’s eyes lit up. “A stalker?”

  “Of sorts.”

  Truman slapped his knee. “Sweet. This is right up my alley. Is this about the guy who’s been manipulating the votes on the show?”

  “You know about that?”

  “Of course, we know about that. We aren’t idiots, although I’ll admit coming on this show certainly makes us suspect.”

  “Lucy’s been talking.” A tall, good-looking black guy stood up. “I’m Ray Ferris. All of Lucy’s favorites have been getting systematically booted off the show over the past couple of weeks. We’ve suspected something is up and Lucy, well, discreet isn’t a word that leaps to mind when you describe her. She told us she got a creepy email from this guy. He’s sticking her with who he wants, regardless of her wishes.”

  “Any of you think you may know him? Did you read his manifesto?”

  “Yeah, Lucy shared it with us.” Ray shrugged. “Not like we could do anything about it.”

  “Did the wording sound familiar to any of you? Could it be a family member or friend trying to help you out?”

  Another of the guys stood up. He was unusually tall and skeletal-looking with long thin fingers and sharply pointed bones in his face. His shaggy brown hair seemed barely connected to his scalp and he had either a tiny mustache or a fuzzy bug sitting over his lips. He wore a white shirt that hung on his frame, a pair of black slacks held up by a pair of ridiculous-looking red suspenders and a red bow tie.

  “I don’t need anyone to help me out, babe. I already got what it takes.”

  Ray sighed. “Uh, oh.”

  The guy hitched his pants up and swaggered toward me. He jerked his head with a spastic motion, and to my dismay, he winked. Either that or something flew into his eye. I couldn’t be sure.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “The name’s Gregg Magnum. You got a problem? I’m your man.”

  Truman rolled his eyes. “You’re nobody’s man, dude.”

  “Don’t be hating on me because of my ability with the ladies.”

  “What ability? You’re a master at crash and burn.”

  I held up a hand. “Gregg, you know anything about what’s going on here?”

  “Not really. However, you’re lucky I have a razor-sharp mind and a photographic memory. How about we have dinner, wine, and some great conversation, illuminated by the glow of soft candlelight?”

  “How about not.”

  “Are you playing hard to get?”

  “I’m not playing at all.”

  Truman made an airplane with his hand and simulated a crash, complete with a booming sound effect.

  Gregg frowned at Truman. “Buzz off, loser.”

  Truman laughed. “I am so not the loser, dude.”

  “We’ll see about that.” He returned to the couch, a dejected look on his face.

  I let out a breath. “So, do any of you know why some guy would issue a manifesto and try to wreck the show?”

  “He’s not trying to wreck the show.” A thin young man dressed in tan khakis and a light blue shirt stood up. His dark hair fell over one eye. “He’s trying to manipulate it.”

  I took a step closer. “And you are...?”

  “Eldrick Faston. I don’t think he’s trying to ruin it or he would have made his initial hack a lot more malicious. He’s getting his kicks by controlling us like a bunch of puppets.”

  I considered him. “Know anyone who would get off on that kind of activity?”

  Eldrick shrugged. “Yeah, just about everyone I know. But, hey, it’s like the dude said in the manifesto. He’s looking for revenge.”

  Anson nodded. “Yeah, guess he got bullied a lot. Like most of us.”

  We were all quiet for a moment, before I spoke up. “Look, I’m still not getting it. If he’s been bullied, why would he manipulate you—guys in the same family, theoretically speaking?”

  “Because we’re an extension of the show.” Ray rubbed his hand over his forehead. “I don’t think he’s trying to hurt us directly, he’s just trying to control the show. Eldrick is right. He could have shut down this show with one seriously decent hack.”

  Truman sniffed. “I disagree. His actions are too pedestrian.”

  “What?” Eldrick glared at him. “A manifesto is not pedestrian. Dramatic, even over the top, I’ll give you, but not pedestrian.”

  “It’s neither. It’s bureaucratic.”

  One of the guys who had been sitting on the couch abruptly stood. He was short with blond curly hair, gray-tinged glasses and chubby cheeks. “‘Bureaucracy is the slime created by the void fermented in the ruins of a revolt.’ That was Kirk Masters to Ab’Jona in the episode ‘Road to Revolution.’”

  I stared at him for a moment. “Okay. And the significance of that comment to this conversation is...?”

  Anson rolled his eyes. “Don’t you know who he is?”

  “Should I?”

  “That’s Barnaby Knipple.”

  “Okay. Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

  “Don’t you ever watch the show?”

  “No.”

  Anson sighed. “Lucky you. Well, Barnaby kind of talks in riddles.”

  “What?”

  Ray interrupted. “No, he doesn’t speak in riddles. Quotes. Repercussions quotes, to be exact.”

  “What?”

  “Surely you’ve heard of the television show Repercussions.”

  “Of course I’ve heard of it. It’s one of my favorite shows.”

  I shifted my gaze back to Barnaby and he lifted a blond eyebrow. “‘May Shangra guide you and lead you into everlasting enlightenment.’”

  Ray lifted his hands. “See?”

  I blew out a breath. “Okay...well, just okay.” I glanced over to the last guy sitting in one of the oversized red lounge chairs with his legs crossed. He had short reddish brown hair and watched me with an amused look.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  He didn’t get up. “Apparently I’m the last of the group to introduce myself. I’m Max Sheffield. I’m the guy who’s hoping to God I get voted off this bloody freak show tonight.” He spoke in a short, clipped British accent.

  “So, Max, you got any theories on the show’s stalker?”

  “None, except if I ever meet him, I shall lift a glass to him filled with fine Scotch. I only wish he’d do the manly thing and put us all out of our misery sooner than later.”

  “You agree with his manifesto?”

  “Wholeheartedly. I agree this show is a travesty and should be shut down immediately. Nonetheless, I have no one to blame but myself for becom
ing involved. Now that I’ve had my fifteen minutes of fame, I’m more than happy to relinquish Lucy to any or all of my admirable fellow contestants. May one of you be so lucky.”

  “You’re her favorite,” Anson pointed out.

  “For now. Which, thanks to our stalker, hopefully means I’ll be the next to go. God Almighty, I wish this room had a stocked bar. I’m going to need a drink to get through the show tonight.”

  “I’m nervous, too.” Truman wrung his hands together. “Really nervous. I wish the show wasn’t live. They can’t call cut if I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “Dude, did you take your Pepto Bismol?” Anson sat down on the red couch.

  “No. Oh, God, I might be sick.”

  We all took a step back from Truman.

  Max laughed. “Well, welcome to the show, Lexi Carmichael. I sincerely wish you the utmost luck in finding your cyber criminal.”

  Chapter Seven

  Show time was in less than thirty minutes. I itched to get a look at the IT setup and security layout, but I wouldn’t have enough time before the show to do it properly. Besides, Kyle wanted me to meet the host of the show, Stone O’Hara.

  “Stone?” I shook my head. “That’s a first name? Makes him sound like a blockhead.”

  He laughed. “Just wait until you meet him.”

  I followed Kyle over to stage right where Cartwright, Tony, two cameramen and a tall guy with brown hair in a navy blue suit were talking. They stopped talking when they saw us coming.

  Kyle pushed me forward. “I wanted Lexi to meet Stone.”

  The guy in the blue suit turned to face me. He had wavy light brown hair that he’d swept to one side, a very square and chiseled jaw, and brown eyes. He was even tanner than Tony, except the color seemed slightly off. I couldn’t put my finger on it until I realized it was too even, too perfect. Probably the result of a tanning bed. Ugh.

  He smiled and I blinked at the dazzling white teeth. Dentists in Hollywood must make a fortune.

  “Welcome to the show, Lexi. I hear you are going to catch our hacker. Good luck with that.”

  I don’t know if it was something in the tone of his voice or the way he looked right through me, as if I weren’t there, but I disliked him on sight. Then, without waiting for me to reply, he summarily dismissed me, as if I wasn’t worthy of a second more of his time.

  Kyle shrugged. “Come on. Let’s watch the show from the IT room. You can check out our systems after the show.”

  I followed him to where Melinda, Carlos and Noah were already sitting in front of the three large television screens hanging on the wall. After a moment, I realized we were seeing three different camera angles. One camera covered the Red Room, where Mandy and another woman were arranging the guys’ hair and clothes. Another angle showed Lucy in her dressing room, walking around in a shimmery low-cut white dress and those weird black glasses, as if those would make her a geek. I frowned, shaking my head. The final view was of the main stage where I had just seen Stone minutes ago.

  “The show is live?” I asked. “Why?”

  “Beats me. Guess it adds to the drama.” Kyle plucked a headset off a nearby desk and put it on. “We can hear Cartwright through here in case he needs to direct us or anyone in the stage crew to do something. A live show can get dicey on occasion.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know Kyle’s definition of dicey, so I didn’t ask.

  The crew adjusted things around on the stage for a few more minutes, and then all fell quiet. A short time later, the show finally started.

  Music sounded and garish purple and yellow lighting flashed across the stage. “Welcome to Geeks Get Some,” Stone said in a booming voice. “We are thrilled to invite you to tonight’s exciting results show.”

  He chatted for a bit about the show and the contestants and then introduced a series of clips from the previous night’s show. First up were several humiliating scenes of a few of the guys in a hot tub with Lucy. Lucy barely fit into her bikini and kept leaning over at strategic angles to give the guys an eyeful, while continuing to wear the dumb glasses that kept getting steamed up.

  It was the stupidest thing I’d ever seen, and I’ve seen plenty of stupid things in my twenty-five years on the planet.

  Gregg, the tall, almost skeletal, guy who thought he was God’s gift to women, made a pathetic, painful play for Lucy.

  “I’m so hot, baby.” He grinned and scooted over closer to her in the hot tub.

  Lucy fanned herself. “You’re right. It is hot in here.”

  “No, it’s not hot. You’re the one who is hot and I bet I can make you even hotter.”

  One of the other guys moved closer to her from the other side. “You like alpha males, right? I could do that. Act alpha, that is.”

  Gregg stuck out his skinny chest. “Me, too.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately you two are about as alpha as my little toe.”

  The awkward, mortifying clips went on like this for painfully long stretches, broken up only by the continual laughter of the audience and a couple of commercials. I closed my eyes at some point, not able to watch any more. I felt angrier by the minute and more sympathetic to the cracker than perhaps I should have been.

  It was beyond obvious that Lucy preferred Ray and Max, primarily because they appeared to be rational humans, not spouting Repercussions dialogue, pretending to be manly, or having unusual professions like a paranormal investigator or a professional gamer. She showered an inordinate amount of attention on the two normal guys and seemed in near desperation to convince the audience that one of these two guys was her best option. I had to agree that either one of them would have been the best choice of the lot she had left.

  The show seemed to stretch on indefinitely until after a commercial, Stone ordered the lights to be dimmed and a weird staccato music blared. Lucy actually appeared nervous as she and the guys were told by Stone O’Hara to stand in a circle for what he called “the results reveal.”

  “Any last-minute advice for the guys?” Stone shoved the microphone in Lucy’s face.

  She smiled sweetly, peeking at the television audience over her glasses. “Just be yourself, guys. Be men and be comfortable in your own skin. Don’t overthink, just go with your instincts.”

  Stone nodded thoughtfully, as if she had just said the most intelligent statement in the world. “So, Lucy, do you think the fans will pick the right guy to leave this week?”

  “Well, I hope I made it clear which ones I like.” She batted her eyes and pressed her hand to her chest. “I have a feeling the audience will agree with me.”

  I wanted to throw up. Seriously.

  Stone smiled back, his teeth overly white in the harsh lighting. “Okay, let’s send one of the guys to safety and that is...Ray Lewis.”

  Lucy seemed relieved and smiled at Ray as he crossed to the stage to stand next to Lucy.

  “Next to stay is...Anson Oxlong.”

  “Anson?” Lucy couldn’t hide her disappointment.

  One by one the guys were sent to safety until only Max, the British guy Lucy clearly favored, Barnaby Knipple, better known as the Repercussions quote guy, and Gregg Magnum, the misguided alpha-wannabe, were left.

  Dramatic music sounded. Lucy pressed her hands to her mouth. Suddenly Max disappeared from the stage.

  My mouth gaped open. “Huh? Where’s Max?”

  Kyle misunderstood my astonishment. “Yep. Lucy is going to shit bricks.”

  I blinked. “No, I mean what happened to him? He vanished into thin air.”

  “Oh, that. There’s a trap door on the stage with a slide and a cushion at the bottom. It’s just for dramatic effect.”

  “They dropped him down a freaking trap door? Words fail me. Really.”

  Lucy was making noises of her
own on the stage. She was furious and didn’t make any effort to hide her displeasure.

  I glanced at Kyle. “I take it Lucy didn’t know in advance.”

  “No way. Believe me, she’s tried more than once to get it out of the staff and me. But Cartwright forbade it. He’s afraid of what she’d do.”

  “I think we’re about to find out.”

  Lucy threw up her arms and stormed off the stage. The camera followed her and then swiveled back to Stone who looked surprised by her departure offstage.

  I could hear Cartwright scream through Kyle’s headset. “Cut to commercial! Now.”

  Kyle grabbed my arm. “Let’s go.”

  We ran out of the IT room to the stage. While a commercial played, Cartwright stood at the side of the stage yelling at Lucy.

  “Get the hell back on that stage right now.”

  Lucy got right back in his face. “No! This is intolerable. It’s gross. They’re gross.” She pointed at Barnaby and Gregg. “There is no way in hell I’d ever date those guys, let alone propose to them, and the audience knows it. They knew I wanted Max.”

  “Shut up and do your job.” Cartwright’s face was beet red.

  “I’m an actress, for God’s sake.”

  “Then act the damn part.”

  “I can’t do it anymore. These dorks are driving me crazy. I had no idea it would be this bad when I signed on.”

  “You are under contract.”

  Lucy took her glasses off and snapped them in her hands. “Contracts can be broken.”

  “I’ll see you never get work anywhere in this town.”

  “Don’t you dare threaten me. No one will blame me. I am not going on one more date or suffer one more disgusting lip lock or clueless groping. I quit.”

  Cartwright looked ready to have a heart attack. He breathed so hard his face was nearly purple. Still he was smart enough to try another tactic. “C’mon, Lucy. Do it for the show. Turn the other cheek.”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Okay, okay. You offer me no choice. I’ll give you a raise.”

  She paused. “How much?”

  “A lot. Just get the hell back on that stage.”