Through the thin false walls of the studio, the noise levels rose as the doors opened and the audience began to file in. Her thoughts spun on as her blood began to pump in anticipation. Deciding to act-to take a risk and reach out for what she wanted-was one thing.
But finding the courage to do it was quite another. Because what if, after she tried again, he got on that plane anyway and left her?
THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE at CWB had agreed to the video link at three-thirty, which worked out perfectly. Eve would still be on the set, mingling with her audience, and she wouldn’t be able to watch his attempt to turn this fiasco around. Mitch would rather have no witnesses, thanks. What he did want was to succeed. To come out with a gift safe in his hand-her show, intact, exactly the way she wanted it.
He glanced at his watch. He had an hour yet. Cole Crawford had given him a brief window of time to put some bells and whistles on the presentation he’d been working on all morning. But Mitch had it all in his head. He’d been living this for weeks, after all.
He was still amazed that Nelson Berg had gotten out of his way and agreed to this. Mitch was the one who had the information at his fingertips. He knew the talent. But primarily, he was the most heavily invested in winning.
With everything up in the air-his job, the show, his future-the only thing he had left to hang on to was Eve’s simple admission of her feelings. As far as he was concerned, that was worth taking a chance on. That was worth figuring out the logistics of time and distance for. He could probably hub out of Atlanta for most of his trips instead of Chicago or Dallas, so he’d be able to see her once or twice a week. Lots of relationships survived on less than that.
“Mr. Hayes!”
Mitch blinked and raised his head. Dylan Moore stood in the doorway, panting.
“I’ve been searching the station for you. Come on-it’s showtime.”
Puzzled, he got up. “I’m not going to be in the audience for Just Between Us. I’m doing a video link in the newsroom.”
Dylan made a rolling movement with his hand. “I know, I know. It’s started and there’s a panel of suits waiting for you.”
“But it’s only two-thirty. I’ve got an hour yet.”
Dylan shook his head. “Not according to them, Mr. Hayes. I don’t know what time zone they’re in, but it’s not eastern.”
“Shit!”
He took the stairs three at a time and skidded into the small studio, which held not much more than a couple of lights, a stationary camera and a desk behind which someone could transmit breaking news or a timely interview. A technician nodded at him and pointed at a monitor, where-thank you, God-Cole Crawford had loaded his presentation.
He only hoped he hadn’t left his carefully thought-out arguments back there at the top of the stairs.
He knew most of the network’s execs by sight. Three men and two women. As he slid into the chair and Nelson introduced him-without editorial comments on his tardiness-he made careful note of each name and position, so he could target his appeal personally. His aptitude for memorizing music came in handy in these kinds of applications.
And then he went to work.
With the right amount of detail, he explained to the people on the big flat-panel screen why Just Between Us worked so well in the regional market. Looking steadily into the camera, he outlined the team approach, and the talents of each of Eve’s production people that gave the show its own distinct flavor.
“Remember what happened with The X-Files when it went to Los Angeles?” he said. “The Vancouver production team had created that unique atmosphere and mood that was almost a third character in the show. When it moved, a vital element seeped away and it changed. And, I might point out, it only lasted a couple more seasons. We don’t want that to happen to Just Between Us.”
The execs looked at each other, and the woman on the left nodded. The others shrugged, and Mitch tapped the keyboard in front of him to move on to the financial projections. As he might have expected, the numbers got more attention than a discussion of production values, but that was okay.
A move to New York was wrong on so many levels that every point he could make only added to the solidity of his case.
At last, he wound up with, “You should know that CBS and SBN have made very lucrative offers to Eve and her team, and she turned them down in favor of CWB simply because the others wanted her to move to New York. Please reconsider this move, ladies and gentlemen. It would not be in the best interests of the show, its personnel, the network…or our viewers.”
With that, he sat back and prepared himself to field the inevitable barrage of difficult questions. But to his surprise, Nelson Berg stepped into view as the execs began to pack up their notepads and laptops.
“Thanks, Mitch. You’ve been very helpful in laying out the case. Don’t terminate the connection, please. I want to have a word, since I’ve got you here.”
Mitch took some deep breaths while he watched five people file out of camera range and waited for the adrenaline to stop zooming through his system.
Off camera, Mitch heard a door close, and Nelson seated himself at the table, smack in the middle of the screen. The guy was impossible to read on the best of days-that face was usually set in a frown of disapproval. Mitch resisted the urge to ask-beg-for information.
Nelson sighed and steepled his fingers over his stomach. “You made a good pitch.”
“Thanks.”
“I couldn’t have done better myself. The video link was a good idea. Nice cost-saving measure. Shows you’re a team player. Unfortunately, it didn’t change their minds.”
What? How could it not?
“It’s insane to bring that show to New York and you know it.” Mitch felt hope draining out of him with every word. “Is there anything I can do that will convince them?”
“Afraid not. They were shaking their heads before they even left the studio.”
“I could run the numbers again. Do some more research.”
“It won’t do any good. It’s unanimous, Mitch. Stop beating your head against the wall.”
“This is going to kill them.”
“Who? The people there?”
“Yes. They won’t come. I can guarantee you’ll lose this deal if you make me walk down that hall and tell them this.”
“I can guarantee you’ll lose your job if you don’t.” The words, as usual, were brutal. Like being hammered over the head. But Nelson’s expression was less sour than usual. “I’m sorry, Mitch, but sometimes we have to take it on the chin. You were a big success at getting Eve to commit the show to CWB against the odds. You can do it again. I have faith in you.”
Eve had faith in him, too. Cold despair touched his heart as he thought of those long talks in the park, when he’d come to understand that a simple conversation about the workings of this business was nearly impossible for a woman like her. How happy he’d been to fill that need-and all her other needs, too. He thought of Eve, head thrown back on her pillow as she groaned in ecstasy under him just last night, opening up to him utterly, making herself vulnerable for the sake of the pleasure they made together.
How could he find her and tell her that all the plans they’d agreed to would be snatched out from under her? Would she ever trust the network again?
To hell with that. Would she ever trust him again?
“I can’t do it, Nelson.” The words came out of his mouth before he could bite them back.
“It’s a dirty job, but it’s your job.” He leaned forward, his gaze stony. “You and I don’t make these decisions, Mitch. We just make ’em happen.”
“Well, this one isn’t going to happen. Not with me.”
“Is that a threat?” Nelson sounded amazed. It wasn’t Nelson’s fault-he was simply the messenger. Mitch couldn’t remember the last time he’d stood up to what the network’s management wanted. Maybe he never had. Maybe that’s why he was so damned unhappy with his job. And why he didn’t have a life.