Flash and Fire

by Marie Ferrarella

  Then it had been a bluff. But now she had her career to think about. She’d been a new anchorwoman out of a small station in New Mexico; he was a ratings wizard, revered by the station owners. She’d kept her mouth shut, except to say no to his proposition. But now it was a different story.

  Grimsley’s face turned a deep red. “You’re going to be sorry you said that.”

  “I doubt it.” She threw open the door and pointed to the hall. “Now this is still my office for today and I’d like you to get out.”

  He’d expected her to crumble. To cower and plead for her job. Most people caved in if you pressed hard enough. He wouldn’t have relented, but he would have enjoyed the show. Perhaps he would have even allowed himself to be persuaded to let her “entertain” him in the hope of keeping her lucrative anchor position. After it was over, he would have enjoyed laughing in her thin, aristocratic face.

  He wasn’t enjoying himself any longer.

  Grimsley left, slamming the door in his wake.

  Amanda slumped against the door on the other side, completely drained.

  Now what?

  Amanda covered her mouth with her hands to keep the sob back and tried desperately to think.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Fighting back tears, Amanda struggled to get herself under control. She pulled a worn, interdepartmental telephone book out of her side desk drawer and looked up the general manager’s number. Alvin Crispin had been the one who had hired her in the first place, after viewing the clips she had mailed him showcasing her work in New Mexico. She had a friendly, though somewhat distant rapport with the man.

  Right now, she knew she needed someone with weight in her corner if she hoped to make any sort of a stand against John Grimsley. Crispin was the first person she could think of. He could definitely supply the weight that would shift the balance to her side.

  She tapped out the numbers on her keypad and waited. A brief, unsatisfying conversation with Crispin’s secretary two minutes later told her that the general manager was taking a long, overdue vacation in the Bahamas. There was no way to reach him.

  Amanda hung up the receiver, momentarily stymied.

  Grimsley had undoubtedly known about Crispin’s vacation before he had come to fire her. The man was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d waited for an opportunity like this before acting.

  Without Crispin here, her only chance was to get her hands on the Q status report. She wanted to do everything now, not later. But “later” was her only option.

  Stomach churning, breath short, Amanda felt as though she was about to hyperventilate. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Her thoughts were flying in a dozen different directions. She stood for a moment, trying to get a grip on herself.

  Amanda looked down and realized that she was digging her nails into her palms so hard she was breaking the skin.

  Taking two deep cleansing breaths, Amanda willed herself to calm down. She had Christopher, a wonderful, healthy two-year-old. She had her own health. There was money in the bank to fall back on. It wasn’t as if she was going to starve. Things could always be worse. She was going to fight this the best she could, but to do that, she had to remain calm and logical.

  She squared her shoulders. Yes, she’d fight it. And by the time this was over, that bastard would be the one looking for a job.

  Paul.

  She could talk to Paul. Her mind leaped and embraced the thought. Paul could find out where the Q status reports were kept. He had a gift for worming his way into everything. He was a wheeler-dealer who, if he wasn’t planning on becoming a filmmaker someday, would probably have made it as a con artist. He still might.

  She had to find Paul right away. Focusing on that single thought, Amanda burst out of her office. If Paul wasn’t on assignment, he would probably be in the editing room, helping Kowalski, the senior editor, prepare the prerecorded part of the news.

  Hurrying out, Amanda walked straight into Pierce.

  “Hey, hold it, Mandy. You almost ran me down. What’s the—“

  Pierce took one look at her expression and saw that there was no purpose in approaching the subject slowly. Everything was there in her face for him to see. He was coming to speak to her about Grimsley’s offer anyway. Might as well get it out in the open.

  “You know?’

  With his question, her last shred of hope dissolved.

  “Then it’s true?” He was just like everyone else. The realization sliced through her like whirling blades. “You’re taking the position?”

  Even now, she wanted him to deny it. To say that Grimsley had lied. Grimsley was certainly capable of lying without compunction. Almost as much as Pierce was capable of hurting her.

  He had never seen such raw pain as he did now in her eyes. Pierce reached to touch her arm, not knowing where to begin.

  “Mandy, I—“

  Fool, she jeered at herself, how could you have thought anything different? Don’t you know by now?

  “You are taking it.” Amanda backed away from him as if he had a highly contagious disease. “I didn’t want to believe it. When Grimsley crowed at me, I thought it was just his way of trying to get at me. Of trying to hurt me.” The pain she felt gave way to outrage and hatred. “But you spared him the trouble, didn’t you?”

  Pierce tried to place his hands on her shoulders, but Amanda knocked them aside with such force, he was stunned. The look on her face told him that if she could have, she would have hit him right here in the hall.

  They were beginning to draw a crowd. He took her roughly by the arm and pushed her through the open door. “Let’s go into your office.”

  Amanda tried to resist, but she had little choice. He was twice as strong as she was. But not twice as angry. Her chin jutted out defiantly.

  “Why? So you can seduce me again? So I won’t realize what you’re up to?”

  Now she’d made him angry. He closed the door firmly, blocking out the onlookers. “It wasn’t like that and you know it.”

  No I don’t. I don’t know anything.

  “I just know what they tell me. That I’m out of a job and you have it.” Her eyes narrowed. “Less than four weeks after you started stalking me, you have the six o’clock anchor position and I’m out in the cold.”

  She made him sound like an unctuous, unscrupulous animal. Did she really believe what she was saying, or was that just her anger talking?

  “I didn’t stalk you.”

  Did he think she was a naive idiot as well?

  “No? What would you call it, then? A dozen coincidences?”

  To think she’d actually believed that she was falling in love with him.

  “You manipulated me, and I can’t forgive that.” She was working up a full head of steam, and now one accusation after another fell from her tongue. “You’re even more despicable than Jeff was. You’re like my father.” Of all the trespasses, she hated manipulation the most. “He tried all his life to make me do what he wanted. He’s a lot better at it than you are, and he failed.”

  Bitterness entered her eyes as she remembered. “He settled for running and ruining my mother’s life instead.” How could she have let him blind her so easily? “I should have seen right through you in the first place.”

  Pierce shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from physically stopping her verbal attack. “God damn it, if you’d just settle down for a second—“

  She had no intention of letting him confuse her or fill her head with doubts. The fact remained that he had taken the position, and there was nothing in the world he could say to change that.

  “Sorry. Go practice your charm on someone else.” She yanked open the door, placing herself in the doorway so that he couldn’t close it again. “I don’t have anything else that you’d find worthwhile to seduce out of me. You’ve got my job. But don’t get too comfortable about having it,” she warned. “I intend to get it back!”

  With that she stormed away, pushing through the thin
group of people who had gathered at her door, drawn by the sound of raised voices.

  Pierce was too angry to go after her. He didn’t trust himself as to what he might do or say. They both needed to cool down before they could talk rationally, he thought. If that was possible with Amanda.

  As she had hoped, Amanda found Paul in the editing room, working with the tapes.

  He grinned when he saw her. “Hey, what’s up, Amanda? Here to give me the once-over because I’m seeing Carla?” His grin faded when he saw the look in her eyes. Paul slid off the stool, temporarily abandoning the tape he was viewing. He placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. “Hey, you look all shook up.”

  Damn, why couldn’t she mask her feelings just a little? When it was airtime she could keep the horror of what she viewed out of her eyes, but once the camera was turned away her tricks failed her. Her feelings were all there in her eyes, for anyone to see.

  “I’ve been fired, Paul.”

  He could only stare at her as the words shimmered beyond his comprehension. “What?”

  “Fired,” she almost shouted. She saw that Kowalski had stopped working and was looking at her, mute sympathy in his eyes. “Axed.”

  Restlessly, she began to prowl the small, window-less room. The artificial lighting overhead added to the surreal atmosphere. Maybe it was just a bad dream. All of it.

  “Grimsley had a special Q status report done. He just informed me that I tested low and that I’m being ‘released’ from my contract because the viewers don’t like me.” She turned, a renewed fire in her eyes as she repeated the words. He had to be lying. “I need to see a copy of that report. Can you get it for me? I hate to do this to you, but you’re the only one I can ask.”

  He flashed her a reassuring grin. Paul didn’t have the slightest idea where the reports were kept or even where to begin to look. But he would try.

  “Sure. For you, Amanda, anything.” She needed someone to talk to, he thought. Without resentment, he knew he qualified as a second-stringer. She needed someone more in her league. “Have you told Alexander yet?”

  Paul couldn’t understand why her expression changed to one of cynical bitterness.

  “Who do you think is replacing me?”

  He didn’t have a clue, but her phrasing had him going for the obvious, even though he couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

  “Not—.”

  Her mouth hardened, crushing her smile. “None other. The smooth-talking weasel knew about it all the time.” And she could kill him for it. Not for taking her position; she could understand ambition like that, even if she couldn’t condone it. No, she could have killed him for using her the way he had. For using her heart and playing up to her son.

  For making her care, when all he had cared about was climbing up the ladder.

  Paul shook his head in utter disbelief. He’d worked with the man. Pierce made his own rules, but they were rules.

  “I can’t believe that.”

  “I can.” She didn’t want to, but she could. All too easily, now that she looked back. She let out a sigh. “Since I have no news to anchor, I’m going home.” She tried to smile her gratitude, but it was only halfhearted. “See what you can do.”

  Paul laid a hand on her back reassuringly. “Hey, don’t worry, Amanda. You’re as good as back already. And this thing with Pierce is just one big mix-up.”

  “No, it was one big mix-up. But it’s over.” She brushed a kiss on the cameraman’s cheek. “Thanks, Paul. It’s been great working with you.”

  He pointed a finger at her. “Not been, is,” he corrected.

  “Right.” Amanda nodded, feeling suddenly numb and tired as she walked out.

  She stopped by her office only long enough to get her purse. In her present frame of mind, she might not have remembered to do that, except that she needed her car keys.

  As she left the office, Pierce was nowhere around. She’d half expected him to be jumping out of the shadows at her.

  Just as well. The way she felt right now, she would have given in to the temptation of kicking him where it would have done the most good, at least as far as her sense of satisfaction went.

  On the way home, Amanda was scarcely aware of the radio being on. Music and the occasional commercial and DJ patter buzzed in the background as she tried to create some sort of order in her mind.

  It wasn’t until the news segment was almost over that she realized it was about Whitney. Startled, she almost swerved into the car on her right as she turned up the volume.

  Whitney had been indicted that morning by the grand jury. The matter was now going to trial.

  Life, it seemed, could always get worse.

  Tears burned in Amanda’s eyes, stinging before they spilled out. What a difference an hour made. An hour ago, she’d felt as if she was on top of the world, however temporarily.

  Temporary was hardly the word for it. Her happiness had lived and died within a forty-eight-hour period. Now she was out of a job, with the threat of being blacklisted if she protested. She’d been used by the man she’d just realized she was in love with, and now someone who was closer to her than her own father was facing prison.

  It couldn’t get much worse.

  Amanda felt as if everything that had any meaning in her life had shattered into a thousand pieces before her eyes. Her tears blinding her, Amanda stopped the car by the side of the road. She needed to get herself together before she had an accident.

  She cried for more than five minutes. And then, annoyed at her own weakness, she forced herself to stop. Crying was no remedy.

  She had to think, to plan.

  Her words to Grimsley came back to her. She was going to fight this if she had to. In court, if necessary. She wasn’t about to give Grimsley, or Pierce for that matter, the satisfaction of seeing her cave in. Her career, her integrity meant too much.

  “As God is my witness, they won’t—“

  Amanda broke off the thought and realized that she was paraphrasing a line out of Gone With the Wind. She smiled to herself. That’s what she got for reading the book twelve times as a child.

  It had been her favorite novel. Whitney had given her a hardback copy for her fifteenth birthday. The edges of the pages were gold. He had inscribed it: Amanda J. Foster, A Budding Scarlett O’Hara. Always remember that Tomorrow Is Another Day.

  She closed her eyes and saw the inscription in her mind.

  “Yes,” she murmured. “Tomorrow is another day. And I’ll be ready for it.”

  Amanda turned her ignition on again and headed for home.

  Chapter Thirty

  Carla looked up from the floor, surprised to see Amanda walk into the living room. Carla was busy playing with Christopher. A network of trains and tracks was spread out all over the floor. There was a soap opera on the television in the background, but Carla had only been paying cursory attention to it. Her own life was becoming far more satisfying and fulfilling than anything she saw on the screen.

  She sat back on her heels, trying to fathom the expression on Amanda’s face. “Aren’t you supposed to go on in a few hours?” Amanda always prepared for three hours prior to a broadcast.

  Amanda started to drop her purse on the sofa and immediately realized her mistake. Christopher was already up off the floor, reaching for it. She slipped the strap back onto her shoulder.

  She faced Carla. “I’ve been fired.”

  “Fired?” Carla scrambled up to her feet. Her expression registered both fear and concern. All the possible ramifications began to take shape in her mind. She thought of Paul. “Oh no, does this mean we have to go back to New Mexico?”

  Amanda shook her head. “No, it means we’re digging in and fighting. I just need some ammunition.” Stepping over a line of miniature railroad cars, Amanda glanced toward the den. “And a lawyer.”

  Carla interpreted the words the only way she could. “You’re going to shoot someone and go to trial?” Her eyes were huge.

 
; In Amanda’s present state of mind, it was a tempting thought.

  “I’d like to, but no, it isn’t that simple.” Amanda crossed to the den. “Please keep Christopher occupied for the next few minutes. I need quiet.” She set her mouth grimly. “I have to make a phone call. To my father.”

  Carla remained where she was. Now the seriousness of the situation really became evident; she knew how difficult that would be for Amanda. “You’re going to ask your father for help?”

  Amanda didn’t want to discuss it. She knew she needed to make the call. Yet if she gave it too much thought, she would change her mind about it. “In a way.” She eased the door closed behind her.

  Amanda stared at the telephone on her desk for several minutes, trying to work up the courage to face her father, even by phone. She needed the name of a lawyer. A very good lawyer.

  She would rather have asked Lenny Baker at the station’s legal department. But now Lenny was on the other side of the table, with Grimsley beside him if it came down to that.

  And she was standing alone.

  She needed top-class help. No one knew the best names like her father.

  Steeling herself, Amanda slowly tapped out the numbers to her father’s San Francisco office.

  A crisp voice on the other end of the line answered almost immediately. “Law offices.”

  Amanda was holding the receiver so tightly that the muscles in her hand were beginning to ache. She consciously loosened her grip. “I’d like to speak to Mr. Foster, please.”

  “I’m sorry, but Mr. Foster is unavailable.” It was the standard answer that was given to everyone who called. Amanda was more than familiar with it. “May I ask what this is in reference to?”