The Doctor's Fake Marriage: A Single Dad & Virgin Romance

by Amy Brent

  “If I’m here next year?” I said, giving him the eye. “You think I’ll be burnt out by then? Or fired?”

  Ed smiled and his eyes nearly disappeared above his puffy cheeks. He had gotten even rounder since I’d seen him last. He grunted when he moved and sweated a lot. His once red hair had turned gray and was cut into an old-fashioned crew cut. He tugged a Kleenex from a box on the desk and mopped his face with it.

  “This place will burn anybody out,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Look at me. I’m only thirty years old.”

  “You don’t look a day over fifty-nine,” I said with a smile. “I appreciate you giving me this chance, Ed. I won’t let you down.”

  “I know you won’t,” he said, waving the tissue at me. “If you’re still the hungry go-getter I hired in Chicago all those years ago, you’ll do fine here. The audience and the egos are bigger, otherwise, it’s all the same.”

  “When do I get to meet my anchors and staff?” I asked, glancing at the large photographs on his wall of the network stars under Ed’s control. The main anchors for WNN’s Nightly News were Bryant Hart and Stephanie Bean. I’d seen them countless times on TV but had not had the chance to meet them yet.

  Bryant was a youthful-looking fifty-something with perfect gray hair and perfect teeth and steel blue eyes that cut into the camera like lasers. He had been the network’s star for twenty years and showed no signs of stopping. Stephanie Bean was probably his tenth co-anchor. It was common knowledge in the industry that Bryant was a bitch to work with and she was just the latest in a long line of comers.

  Stephanie was in her early thirties but tried to sell it as late twenties. She was a drop dead gorgeous blonde, a former Miss Kentucky, who had come out of journalism school full of talent and drive and reportedly fucked, clawed and backstabbed her way to the network chair. These were my two stars that worked for me, at least during the hour when I was in the booth controlling the show.

  “Let me give you a little insight on your anchors,” Ed said quietly, even though the office door was shut. “Bryant Hart is an egotistical pussy hound that’s probably fucked most of the women worth fucking in the place and will try to fuck you.”

  “Define ‘worth fucking’,” I said with a smile. “And should I be flattered that I’m included in that club?”

  “You know what I mean,” Ed said, huffing, shaking his head. “He’s like most male anchors. He thinks he’s a bigger star than he is, though Bryant’s numbers are pretty damn good and have been for a long time. Good enough to make him the number two anchorman on cable.”

  “And what about Miss Kentucky?” I asked, nodding at her picture. She really was gorgeous, with her big blonde hair and infectious smile and a pair of legs reportedly insured for a million dollars. “What’s her story?”

  Ed leaned back in the chair and laced his fingers over his round belly. “Stephanie is a piece of work. Q-Ratings are off the chart with men. Not so much with women, which is why we paired her with Bryant. She is bright, talented, smart, and will probably be our sole anchor if she hangs around long enough for Bryant to either retire or drop dead of a heart attack in a strip bar. She is also conniving, ruthless, self-serving, and the most narcissistic person you will ever meet. You will either love or hate her immediately and the feeling will be mutual, I guarantee.”

  “Lovely,” I said. “So, I have two anchors with two huge egos to contend with. Anyone else I need to be warned about? What about the sports guy and the weatherman?”

  Ed smiled and shook his head. “Both easily managed because they’re not that smart,” Ed said. He wagged a finger at the anchor’s pictures on the wall. “Nope, these are the Medusas of the bunch. Everyone else, reporters, producers, writers, tech, directors, assistants, are easy as pie to manage compared to those two.”

  “That’s good to know,” I said with a nod. “So, if everyone understands that when it comes to producing the show, I’m in charge, we should have no problems.”

  “You will have no problem there,” he said, his round head bobbing as if the muscles in his neck were giving out. “Even those with the biggest egos understand that the show comes first. They want every newscast to be the best it can be. And if anyone gives you shit,” he said, grinning at me, “I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it without running to me.”

  I smiled. “I think I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, one more thing,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows planted on the desk. “Dr. Cole Walker is coming in for a meeting later today. I’d like you to be on hand.”

  “Dr. Cole Walker?” I vaguely knew the name, but couldn’t put a face to it. “Who is he?”

  “Dr. Walker is one of the world’s foremost cardiologists,” Ed said proudly, as if he were talking about one of his kids. He started moving folders around on the desk, looking for something. “I thought I had his bio and headshot here somewhere.”

  “Why would a cardiologist have a bio and headshot?” I asked.

  He gave up the search and laced his fingers together on the desk like he needed to keep his hands busy. “Walker has done a medical segment for us every Friday for the last year or so. He comes on set with Bryant and Stephanie and answers a medical question from a viewer. I’m pretty sure that Stephanie is giving him a hand job under the desk. He’s that goddamn good looking.”

  “Okay, so why is he coming in for a meeting?”

  “Because his Q-Ratings are off the fucking charts,” Ed said, looking for the folder again. “The audience loves him. The powers that be upstairs who keep up with such things think we need to give him a longer segment or put him on twice a week. And there’s talk of even giving him his own show.” He shook his head as if he were respectful of the guy’s talent. It was something I’d rarely seen Ed do. “The guy could be the next Dr. Oz, if Dr. Oz looked like Ben Affleck in his prime.”

  “Well, I can’t wait to meet him,” I said. “What time?”

  “Around three. I’ll page you when he gets here.”

  “Sounds great,” I said with a sigh. I glanced at my watch. It was almost one. Ed had scheduled an all-hands meeting to introduce me to my new crew.

  He saw me glance at my watch and realized the time. “So, you ready to meet your staff?”

  “I am.” I patted my thighs as if I was beating a drum, and got to my feet.

  “Okay, let’s go.” He huffed as he pushed himself out of the chair and moved around the desk. He started to open the door, then paused to give me a serious look. “Fair warning, Lucy, this ain’t Chicago.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It means this ain’t a local station and you’re not producing the local news. Our signal goes around the world. We compete directly with CNN and Fox News. If you thought Chicago was cutthroat, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  “A bit of a lion’s den?”

  “That’s putting it mildly,” he said. “You can handle them, just keep your claws out and don’t be afraid to use your teeth.”

  “Can I use them on Bryant if he tries to get fresh with me?”

  Ed smiled. “Sure, just don’t scratch him so it shows on the air.”

  * * *

  I followed Ed to the elevator and up a floor, then through the center of a large room lined with desks where several dozen people sat pecking away at computer terminals or talking on the phone. There were big screen monitors mounted from the ceiling along one wall, one for each of the seven major news networks: CBS, NBC, ABC, CNN, Fox News, MSNBC, and HLN. They were all on with the sound turned down.

  “This is the news bay,” Ed said as we walked, sweeping a hand through the air like he was spreading pixie dust. “This is where all the writers, researchers, fact checkers, assistant producers, and everyone else sits. Your office is in the far corner next to the conference room.”

  I followed the point of his finger to a corner office that was separated from the open bay by a glass wall and sliding door. “Not much privacy,” I said.

  “There is
no such thing as privacy here,” he said, grinning at me from over his shoulder. “Give these people a closed door and there’s no telling what they might do.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, having to walk quickly to keep up. I heard him chuckle, but he didn’t answer the question.

  “The studio and control room are one floor up,” he said, one pudgy finger pointing toward the ceiling. “I’ll take you up there after you meet your anchors and crew.”

  According to Ed, seventy-eight people worked behind the scenes, in the field, and on camera to produce the Monday through Friday evening broadcasts of WNN’s World News Tonight. We would be meeting with the twenty or so department managers and directors. Everyone organizationally reported to Ed, the head of the news division and acting news director, but I was completely in charge of what went on the air every night, and during that one hour, I was God. His words, not mine, though I liked the sound of them just fine.

  Ed led me into a large conference room where twenty people sat around a long table and in chairs lined up against the walls. I recognized my stars immediately. Bryant Hart sat at the end of the table, looking like he just fell out of a Land’s End catalog with his perfect gray hair and steel blue eyes. He was immaculately dressed in an expensive suit. When our eyes met, he gave me a little nod but kept his expression blank. His co-anchor and the rising star of the show, Stephanie Bean, sat to Bryant’s right. She was even more beautiful in person than on TV or in photographs. Her hair and makeup were perfect. Her green eyes sparkled when she looked at me. She gave me a smile that hugged me like a warm blanket. It was no wonder World News Tonight had more male viewers than female. Stephanie was like a magnet. You couldn’t help but stare at her. Still, given Ed’s warnings, I knew there was more behind the polite smile than met the eye. She was ruthless and ambitious, not afraid to fight or fuck her way up the ladder. I knew that we would either be best friends or the worst of enemies. I’d let her decide which one.

  “Okay, folks, thanks for coming,” Ed said, standing at the head of the table with his hands up. He gave them a minute to direct their attention to the front of the room, where I stood behind him like a timid little girl on the first day of class. I took a deep breath and stepped up beside him, forcing myself to act like the strong leader I’d been hired to be.

  “This is Lucy Rhodes, our new executive producer of the weeknight newscasts,” Ed said proudly, turning to put a pudgy hand on my shoulder. “Lucy comes to us by way of Milwaukee and Chicago where she worked as the producer of their nightly newscasts for the last ten years. She worked for me when I ran things in Chicago so you know she’s top notch. She wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t.” He turned to me and pushed his bushy eyebrows up. “Lucy, they’re all yours.”

  “Thanks for that warm introduction, Ed,” I said with a smile. Ed gave me a nod and stepped aside. I saw Bryant and Stephanie exchange a quick glance. Everyone else was looking at me with eyes wide, as if they were wondering what to expect. The people in the room were the heads of the various departments that worked together to produce the news: video editors, directors, camera ops, assignment editors, reporters, technicians, etc. Ed managed them directly and they managed their people, but as the executive director of the show, they also unofficially worked for me. In a perfect world, things should run smoothly. I’d been in the business long enough to know that that was rarely the case.

  I clasped my hands together like a teacher on the first day of school and let my eyes go around the room. “Well, it’s nice to be here and I look forward to the great work we’re going to do together. Why don’t we start by going around the room so you can tell me your name and what you do here.”

  “Bryant Hart, lead anchor,” Bryant said in his deep TV voice, interrupting my intention to start with the person sitting closest to me. He pushed himself out of the chair and stood tall adjusting his cufflinks. “And I have better things to do than attending a meet and greet.” He walked around the table and out the door. Ed looked at me and rolled his eyes.

  “Stephanie Bean, co-anchor,” Stephanie said without getting up. She looked toward the door and rolled her eyes. “Don’t pay any attention to him. Meetings are actually much nicer after he’s left the room. The air is much less stifling.”

  Everyone chuckled and nodded in agreement. I looked at Stephanie and smiled. We might not become the best of friends, but I had to admire the size of her balls. I held out my hands and said, “Okay, let’s continue.”

  CHAPTER FIVE: Cole

  I’m probably one of the few doctors in the world who has a team of managers and agents working constantly to guide their career outside of the operating room. I’ve got a three-book deal with Harper Collins, even though I’ve never written a book in my life and have no idea what to write about. According to Stan Freeman, my literary agent, they just wanted to tie up the rights to any book I might one day write, and pay me half a million bucks to do so. Sweet. Maybe someday they’ll get something for their money. Until then, bank that bitch!

  I also have an entertainment lawyer who acts as my agent for the TV work I do. Ben Wolf is his name, which was an appropriate name given his ability to rip people to shreds in negotiations. He was the guy who negotiated my original deal with World News Network and was working on my contract renewal.

  I’d been the Friday medical expert on World News Tonight for twelve months now and my contract was about to expire. They paid me a shit ton of money just to show up every Friday at 6:15 and talk for two minutes. I’d never done the math, but I think it came out to something like $2,000 a minute. Fuck, I didn’t even earn that much operating on a heart. Not too shabby for a country boy from Wisconsin, if I do say so myself. It was the exposure I got from doing the spots for the news that got me the other deals that were now in play. Along with the books, I got paid to do corporate speaking, I was starting a podcast (whatever the fuck that is), my private practice fees were double what they were a year ago, and if all went according to plan, this time next year I’d have my own syndicated TV show. Move over Dr. Oz. Dr. Cole Walker is coming through!

  “So, what do you think?”

  My thoughts were interrupted by Ben Wolf’s gruff voice coming over the speaker phone in the back of the limo that was driving me to my meeting with Ed Quigley at WNN.

  “What do I think about what?” I asked.

  “Jesus, are you not listening?”

  “I’m listening,” I said with a smile. “But repeat it anyway.”

  “Your contract with WNN comes up for renewal in two weeks,” Ben said. “I’m going to propose that they double the rate they’re paying you now and book you for longer segments. They must know that we’re talking to Kingston World about a one-hour show. We have them over a barrel and can dictate terms.”

  “So why are we just doubling the rate?” I asked, glancing out the tinted window at the city that was rushing by. I gave him a bored sigh. “I mean, if I’m worth double, I must be worth quadruple, don’t you think?”

  “Well, maybe…”

  “Ben, don’t lose your balls now,” I said firmly. “Quadruple the rate, expand the Friday segment to three minutes, and get me a thirty-minute special every few months, my time permitting. That is until we can lock down a syndication deal with Kingston or whomever, then all bets are off.”

  “You want an out-clause in case the syndication deal comes through?”

  Of course,” I huffed. “I’m not going to show up there every Friday to do a segment when I have a show of my own to focus on. Include the out-clause, end of discussion.”

  “And if they don’t agree?”

  “Fuck ‘em,” I said with a smile. “We’ll go to Fox.”

  “Okay, that’s what I’ll pitch,” he said. “Are you on your way to meet Ed and the new executive producer? I’ll wait to see how that goes before I call the head of programming with our new terms.”

  “I am on my way to meet with them now.” I peered out the front window. “I’m ten minutes out. Wha
t do you know about the new executive producer?”

  “Not much. Worked in Milwaukee for a few years, your old stomping ground, then produced the nightly news for a station in Chicago for the last ten years. She was Ed Quigley’s protégé right out of college. Name is… hang on… Lucinda Rhodes. She’s female, so that works in your favor.”

  “Lucinda Rhodes,” I said with a smile. “Okay, Ben. I’ll keep you posted. And Ben, don’t let me down.”

  “Don’t worry, Calvin. I’ve got this.”

  I smiled. Ben was the only person on the planet allowed to call me Calvin. And he knew better than to ever do so in public. Calvin was a name I hadn’t used in years because it reminded me of a skinny kid from Wisconsin who had few friends and fewer prospects.

  I’d left Calvin Colton Walker behind years ago.

  Now I was Dr. Cole Walker.

  And I was the fucking king of the world.

  CHAPTER SIX: Lucy

  Ed and I were sitting in his office waiting for Dr. Cole Walker to arrive. Our meeting was set for three o’clock. It was now three-fifteen and Walker had yet to show. Ed didn’t seem too concerned or too pissed off, which again, was totally out of character for him. He busied himself with answering emails and talking to his wife on the phone about the grandkids coming to visit next weekend. I got the impression that the good doctor operated on his own schedule, no pun intended. Still, Ed was usually a pit bull when it came to keeping a tight schedule. This guy must be something if Ed was willing to just hang out and wait for him.

  “Okay, when Dr. Walker gets here don’t look directly into his eyes for more than a few seconds,” Ed said as he turned from the computer to face me. He put his hands behind his head and began to rock. He had a serious frown on his face.

  I frowned back. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that he has a way of hypnotizing women. Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”