Thin Air

by Storm Constantine

  ‘Excuse me? It was high priority a few weeks ago. A scoop, you said.’ Her voice was deadpan, but her heart had speeded up.

  Grant was not the sort of person to avoid her eyes, but what she saw in his gaze did not reassure her. ‘I’m sorry, Jay. Perhaps another magazine can use it.’

  ‘What is this? You wanted that piece, Grant. You asked me to do it, and I did it.’

  ‘I was going to call you. Something else has come up, and we’ve changed our main feature for December.’

  Jay frowned, shook her head quizzically. ‘That’s a bloody quick change, then! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What do you want instead? It’s bloody inconvenient.’

  ‘You don’t have to do it. I’ve asked Tom to.’

  ‘Tom? Why?’

  ‘God, this is difficult, and I didn’t want to have to do it like this, but your contract with ‘Track’ isn’t going to be renewed.’

  Jay stood up. ‘Are we talking ‘fired’ here?’

  Grant looked up at her, then shook his head. ‘Fuck, Jay, I can’t do this here. Let’s go get a coffee. OK.’

  ‘No, you tell me now. What the hell is going on?’

  Grant glanced past her at the door. When he spoke, his voice was low. ‘Look, you don’t want all that lot listening to this, and believe me every antenna will be tuned this way. Let’s go down the road to Helena’s. Give me a chance to explain.’

  Grudgingly, Jay assented. She was filled with a cold, incredulous fury, sure there was some mistake, or that she could talk her way out of this.

  Everyone in the main office still had their heads down. Jay didn’t even look in Lorna’s direction. Loyalty meant nothing in this business.

  Helena’s was a small French cafe, filled with the aroma of fresh coffee. Before Gus, Jay had spent many lunch-times there with Grant. She shouldn’t have let their friendship slip. She’d a feeling this wouldn’t be happening if she hadn’t.

  They sat down and ordered cappuccinos. Jay lit a cigarette as they waited for their order. She leaned back in her chair, folded her arms. ‘OK, explain it to me. Why drag me out here?’

  Grant rubbed his face. ‘Jay, you never know who’s listening back there, or how, for that matter.’

  Jay pulled a scornful face. ‘Bugs, espionage. I never knew ‘Track’ was so hot.’

  Grant refused to be ruffled. ‘Think what you like. I had your interests at heart.’

  ‘So why did you lie to me? What was all that crap about ‘what feature’?’

  ‘I didn’t lie to you. It took me by surprise when you walked in, that’s all.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  Grant squirmed on his chair. ‘There was a meeting yesterday. The directors want to give ‘Track’ a face-lift, and part of that involves taking on new freelancers. I hate having to do this, I really do. Don’t even know how secure my position is.’

  Jay kept staring at him. ‘Who else is going?’

  At this point, Grant’s gaze slid away from hers. Their coffees arrived, giving him time to formulate a response. ‘It hasn’t yet been decided who’s going and who’s staying, but someone’s lined up to take over your regular feature already. Carmen Leonard.’

  Jay laughed, genuinely amused. ‘Carmen Leonard? You’re kidding me. She’s a great body, granted, but hardly a great brain.’

  To Jay’s satisfaction, Grant recoiled a little. ‘She’s a supermodel, Jay, and she wants to add another string to her bow. She’s just being sensible. Modelling is a career for the young. The directors see her as a big catch, and a big draw.’

  ‘So will Tom be writing her features for her?’

  ‘She can write.’

  ‘I bet she can.’

  Grant drank some coffee, put his cup down slowly. ‘It’s not my choice, believe me.’

  Jay leaned forward. ‘Can you be honest with me?’

  He looked her in the eye. ‘Yes. You know I can.’

  ‘OK, I’m not convinced this is just about a face-lift.’ She raised her brows, tilted her head to one side, fixed Grant with a stare.

  He didn’t lower his eyes. ‘You think someone has the knives out for you? Have you pissed someone off?’

  She shrugged, clicked her tongue. ‘Seems to me I can do that simply by lying in bed in the dark.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She could tell him now, Jay thought, tell him everything. She shook her head. ‘Oh, nothing. I just find this hard to believe, that’s all. ‘Track’ has been part of my life for years. Stupid of me not to realise I wasn’t indispensable.’

  Grant reached out to squeeze her hands. ‘Look, Jay, this isn’t the end of the world. You’re a superb writer. There’ll always be work for you somewhere, but ‘Track’ is changing. There’s so much competition now. We can’t afford to stand still, and if sacrifices have to be made, we have no choice but to make them.’

  ‘Would you make that sacrifice?’

  He paused, then shook his head. ‘No. I’m just given instructions. This decision came as a big surprise to all of us. You know I love your stuff.’

  ‘So does the readership. I hope they love Ms Leonard’s wit as much.’

  ‘Jay, we both know it’s not always about quality.’

  She nodded. ‘Yeah, I know.’

  Grant rubbed his face. ‘I’m sorry about this, I really am. I was going to call you today, arrange to come round. I didn’t want to have to tell you like this.’

  Jay sighed. ‘It’s OK. I don’t blame you.’

  ‘Look, I’ll call you soon. We should have an evening together.’

  ‘Yeah, that’d be good. Gus has just left me, so I could do with a social life.’

  Grant tilted his head back, took a deep breath. ‘Oh, Jay, I didn’t know. Christ, this couldn’t have been worse timing.’

  She forced a smile. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. It’s clearly time for a change all round. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I like challenges.’

  Grant escorted Jay back to her car, and gave her a hug before she got into it. ‘I’ll be in touch soon,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah. See you.’ Jay pulled away from him and slid into the car. She sounded the horn as she drove off, gave Grant a cheerful wave.

  Inside, she was seething.

  Carmen Leonard? Jay couldn’t believe it. Anorexic, mindless bitch! She didn’t need this job. Effectively, Jay now had no work and no income. She’d relied on ‘Track’ and had let other jobs slide. Her lover had left her. She had to earn money to live. Now this. Could Sakrilege have had anything to do with it? Why would anyone want to destroy her like this? It was all too bizarre. Must be a coincidence.

  When Jay got home, she found Gina in the living room. ‘Oh, You’re still here.’

  Gina grinned in too bright a way. ‘Yeah. I rang Dan, and said I’d stay over with you for a couple of days. I’m going to cook dinner.’ She frowned. ‘You all right, Jay?’

  Jay didn’t want to cry, she really didn’t. She wanted to throw down her briefcase on the sofa, utter the most vibrant profanities she knew, and reach for the gin bottle. But somehow, instead of that, she was standing in the middle of room, numb, with tears running down her face in a deluge. She couldn’t speak. She felt exhausted.

  Gina hurried towards her and hugged her. ‘My God, Jay, what’s happened?’

  After a few moments, Jay was able to say, ‘They fired me.’

  ‘What? Why?’ Gina steered Jay to the sofa and went to pour her a gin, which she thrust into her friend’s cold hands. ‘Drink. Breathe,’ she ordered.

  Jay did so, and then found a lighted cigarette being offered to her. She took a long draw, and then delivered a brief summary of her meeting with Grant Fenton. By the end of it, she’d regained her composure. ‘They’ve hired Carmen Leonard in my place.’

  Gina looked outraged. ‘That’s ridiculous! Jay, they can’t do this.’

  ‘Of course they can!’ Jay wriggled out of Gina’s hold. ‘They can do what they like. Everyone can. Except me, appa
rently.’

  ‘But you’re part of ‘Track’. Everyone loves your work. You help sell that fucking magazine.’

  ‘Not anymore.’

  ‘It’s their loss,’ Gina said. ‘They’ll regret it. I doubt the lovely Carmen can even write her own name.’

  ‘What will that matter? It’s the name that counts, after all. They could get junior journalists to write all her features. Who’d ever know or care? There’s no integrity, Ginny. We already know that. It’s a fucking dirty business, populated by soulless automata, the physical representation of figures on a balance sheet.’ She gulped down the rest of her gin, then put her face in her hands. ‘I’ve got to find work. Now. I’ve got a rejected Devon Klein feature, and a mortgage and credit cards to pay, never mind Gus. What the fuck am I going to do?’

  ‘Right.’ Gina sat back on her heels. ‘We think clearly, for a start. You’re going to drink another gin, then a strong coffee. You’re going to wash your face, will some metal into your spine, and start making calls.’

  Jay shook her head slowly from side to side. ‘Gina, I’m too tired and it’s too late in the day. I’ll have to do it tomorrow.’

  ‘No you won’t. Come on, Jay, you know enough people. There must be loads of them that owe you favours. Maybe you should get an agent. Start writing books. Anything. But begin by making those calls. Sell the Klein feature, then start planning the future. You have to.’ Gina reached out and squeezed Jay’s knee. ‘I’m here. I’ll help.’

  This offer of support invoked the tears again. Jay curled a hand over Gina’s, watched the salty drops splash down. ‘Thanks.’

  Gina squeezed her fingers back. ‘Right. Have a good bubble to get it out of your system, then go and splash some water in your eyes. I’ll get you another drink.’ She stood up and marched to the cabinet across the room.

  Jay pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and sat in prickling darkness. This was all too much. She hadn’t the energy to call people. She just wanted to sleep. But Gina was persistent, and Jay could do nothing but obey her instructions. She downed the second gin and staggered to the bathroom, where she immersed her head in a bowl of freezing water. Raising her face, she blinked at her dripping countenance in the mirror. She didn’t look good. There were lines around her mouth, and the skin beneath her eyes looked fragile and papery. Decay was setting in. She could write a book about the unbelievable injustice of ageing, yet only a few days ago, she’d never even thought about it.

  Gina was sitting in the living-room, Jay’s filo-fax open on her knees. ‘That’s better. First you call Graham Teale.’

  Jay rolled her eyes and groaned. ‘No! Patronising little dick-head.’

  ‘Quite. But he’s first on the list. ‘Music Times’ is the major music paper. Won’t they want a scoop feature on one of America’s wild rock daughters?’

  Jay sighed and sat down, water still dripping from her hair. ‘They’ve probably already run their own, but give me the phone. I’ll try. What’s the number?’

  ‘Good girl. Here goes...’

  But Graham Teale didn’t want a feature on Devon Klein. He wouldn’t even speak to Jay. Neither would the next two music-paper editors she called. There weren’t any more. All the other music papers had died in the Eighties.

  ‘Don’t give up,’ Gina said. ‘We move on to the other style magazines now.’

  Time was moving on. Jay could only phone a few before it was clear all the editors and their assistants had gone home for the day. No-one wanted to talk to her. No-one was interested. They’d all run their own Devon Klein features recently, or had already commissioned them from their regular free-lancers.

  Jay threw the phone on the floor. ‘That was a waste of fucking time. It’s too late, Gina. Devon Klein is already old news.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Gina said firmly. ‘Tomorrow, we start calling the teen magazines. You could revamp the piece to suit their style.’

  ‘Gina, you’re not hearing me. There’s no point. It’s too late.’

  Gina shook her head. ‘Then just make some calls to find other work. Don’t worry. Your life isn’t going to collapse in a single night. Tomorrow, you’ll sort it all out.’

  By two o’clock the next afternoon, Jay had realised that the world of journalism had closed its doors on her, despite Gina’s constant encouragement to suggest it hadn’t. The few editors who’d actually deigned to speak to her personally were polite enough, but certainly not eager to take her on. She couldn’t believe it. She had a good reputation. Only a few months ago, other editors had tried to get work out of her. She put down the phone and said, ‘No more. I have to face it. Someone is making sure I don’t get work.’

  ‘Jay!’ Gina scolded. ‘You’ve got to stop being so paranoid.’

  ‘It’s not paranoia,’ she said. ‘There can be no other explanation, unless I’ve been kidding myself about my skills all these years.’

  ‘We have to make more calls,’ Gina said. ‘You need to meet people. Make appointments. You could try and get a column in a daily. Other music journalists have done that. You’ve certainly got the ability. You could do a great, bitchy column. Editors will know that. Jay, please, don’t give in.’

  She sighed. ‘It’s OK. I won’t give in. I can’t.’

  ‘Right, well tonight, we’ll get a take-out meal, and couple of bottles of wine and...’

  ‘No,’ Jay said. She patted Gina’s arm. ‘I appreciate what you’ve done, being here for me, but tonight I really need to be on my own.’

  ‘Jay, no.’

  ‘Gina, yes.’ Jay managed a smile. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll call you tomorrow, I promise.’

  After Gina had left the flat seemed more at peace. Jay sat for a few minutes, thinking about the day. Perhaps it was time to fight in more ways than one.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Zeke Michaels was far from happy about what Rhys Lorrance was having him do to Jay Samuels. He did not like the woman, but harboured a superstitious dread that doing bad to people was wrong, and caused horrible things to happen. He’d been greatly affected as a boy by a horror story about someone who killed a spider and then got eaten by a gigantic momma spider. All of Zeke Michaels’ small gestures towards altruism were tainted by his broad streak of self-interest. None of his kindnesses came without a price tag, but then neither did his cruelties, and they were costs he had to pay himself.

  Consequently, when Jay Samuels fought her way through his layers of staff and marched into his office first thing in the morning, he thought the day of reckoning had come. Personally, he did not believe she was in contact with Dex, nor that she had the tapes. He’d seen the state of her in the first days after Dex’s disappearance. She’d let him search Dex’s private work-room, where it had been clear nothing had been touched by her. She was a silly bitch, of course, but hardly calculating. Let her stick to her rounds of parties and gigs and her sniping articles in magazines. She should not have been touched, but let to lie. Now, Lorrance, through Michaels, had stirred her up. She was angry, and Michaels could hardly blame her. He was no actor. It was difficult to keep playing the part.

  Without any preamble, Jay leaned on his desk and poked her face out at him. He thought her neck looked scrawny. She shouted at him. Clearly, Lorrance’s quiet words in the right ears had effectively rendered her unemployed. Michaels didn’t know about the boyfriend part, but that was a nasty touch. It occurred to him there was something personal about the way Lorrance was slicing the woman up.

  She thrust a folded piece of paper at him, crying, ‘You caused this. You pay it!’

  It was a letter from a solicitor’s office, who were representing Gus Metcalfe, Jay Samuels’ ex-boyfriend. Apparently, he was asking her for half the equity in the flat and his share of the furniture. Michaels read it through a few times in order to compose a suitable response. Eventually, he looked up. ‘At least he’s not asking for maintenance from you.’

  Jay’s face was set in a feline snarl. ‘He could hardly g
et it, could he? I have no income now, remember! And why? Because you and your bunch of crook colleagues have taken it all away from me.’

  ‘Now, Jay, I don’t think...’

  ‘Shut up! You’re responsible for this delightful little bill I’m landed with.’

  She wasn’t entirely wrong, Michaels thought. He twitched his shoulders. ‘You must know that there’s no way Sakrilege will help you with this, even if I wanted to.’

  Jay growled and turned in a circle. ‘But you don’t want to, do you? For some reason, you’ve decided I have to be destroyed.’

  Michaels raised his hands. ‘Jay, this is outrageous. Calm down a little, will you?’

  ‘Calm down?’ She laughed harshly. ‘You fucker! You’ve made such a mistake about me. I don’t know anything and I don’t have anything you want, and for that you’ve tried to ruin my life. Well, I won’t let you win.’

  ‘Give them what they want and they’ll leave you alone.’ Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that. He saw the cunning sneak across her anger with tiny, precise paws.

  ‘They? Who are they? And what can I give them if I don’t have anything?’

  ‘Make something up!’ he snapped. He was going too far. He should just laugh like some kitsch villain from a James Bond film and mutter some bad-man clichés. He couldn’t. Unfortunately, Zeke Michaels was not all bad.

  ‘Who are they?’ Jay repeated.

  Michaels stared at her wild eyes. He couldn’t say, because he had more to fear from Lorrance than he did from Jay Samuels. ‘The entertainment industry is one big network,’ he said carefully. ‘Think about it.’

  ‘Oh, I get it.’ She punctuated her next angry words with hand gestures. ‘You’ll never work in this town again!’

  He shrugged uncomfortably, aware that Jay’s fate could easily happen to him. She didn’t deserve this.

  Jay planted her fists on his desk again, leaned towards him. ‘I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but there’s nothing I can give you.’

  He thought he could see fear behind her anger, the fear that had driven her to come here. She’d shouted herself out, but couldn’t see a way to escape with any spoils in her hands, or even any dignity. Her fury had run out of steam. ‘In business, bad things sometimes happen,’ he said. ‘You know that. It’s a fucking mine-field.’