Eric continued, "In addition to Cassidy's piece, we'll be running a couple of investigative exposes. One will involve having someone pose as a streetwalker. We'll set up a hotel room and surprise the johns for a little on-camera conversation."
Cassidy pressed her lips together. No wonder Eric had singled out her piece. He was just trying to butter her up so she would be willing to go from serious to sleazy. It was bad enough that the station hadn't made her coanchor, something they had hinted doing only a few weeks ago. Now they wanted her to put on some hot pants and a pair of vinyl boots and lean into creepy guys' cars while they filmed her. Even if she would look pretty darn sexy, it was still demeaning. Well, she wasn't that desperate. She would just tell them no. And then they would beg and plead, and maybe she would work some kind of deal. Get some extra vacation days, at a minimum.
"That's so sleazy," Cassidy said. "Do I really have to do it?"
Eric smirked as if he had been waiting for her. "No one's asking you to, Cassidy. Jenna has already agreed to go undercover and do the reporting for that story. We want you to work on a different investigative piece. We're going to send you to a spa in the Pearl District. We have reports that they're using bad Botox."
All Cassidy could manage was to sputter "Jenna!" Her disdain for the story evaporated. Jenna! Jenna! But she was the intern! She was only twenty-two years old! Okay, she was smart enough, but you had to pay your dues before you got airtime. Before you got a story served to you on a platter.
From the other end of the table, Jenna gave Cassidy an exaggerated smile that showed every one of her shiny, white teeth. She coyly dipped her head toward one shrugging shoulder, miming an apology.
Right. Like Cassidy was dumb enough to think that Jenna hadn't known this was coming.
Halfway down the table, Cassidy heard Brad Buffet's soft snicker. Brad was the anchor, the once and future king. Cassidy had tried to depose him, or at least share power, and he had made it clear he would never forgive her betrayal.
Where was the fairness? A few weeks earlier, Cassidy had handed Channel 4 a story about a dead girl and a senator that pushed the ratings into the stratosphere overnight. Stations from all over the country had courted her. By now she could have been telling viewers the top story in San Francisco or Boston. Instead, she had stayed put in Portland, for the promise of coanchoring with Brad.
Sure, she got to fill the role a few times, but the promise turned out to be empty. The station manager instead told her,"We're bringing in a new gal to partner with Brad. Former Miss Connecticut. She tests very well"
"But you promised me, Jerry!" Cassidy had protested.
"We didn't promise. We said we would try it out." Jerry had sighed. "And we did give you a run in the anchor's chair, but the overnights didn't come back like we'd hoped. We gave it a shot, Cassidy, but I have to think of the good of the station. As a crime reporter, everyone loves you. But you just don't have the same impact in the anchor's chair."
And now, to add insult to injury, Jenna was getting the story that would showcase her gorgeous body. And Cassidy was stuck with the segment that would make viewers think of her as old.
When the meeting was over, Cassidy fled to the ladies' room. After making sure she was alone, she looked at herself in the mirror.
Despite the fact that she had finally started getting more sleep, in the unflattering fluorescent light her skin looked somehow sallow. Did her hair--which she spent several hundred dollars getting cut and colored every six weeks--appear more like straw? She drew her fingers down on either side of her lips. Could she be getting puppet lines? Next, she turned to the side and put her hand on her stomach. It was flat when she sucked it in--but not so much when she didn't.
It was at that moment that Jenna walked in, moving so fast that by the time Cassidy jerked her hand away from her belly, she could tell that Jenna had already seen it.
"Hey," Cassidy said, giving her a false smile. She quickly moved to the door with her hand outstretched.
"Do you think I'm wrong to be taking the assignment?" Jenna asked. "Do you really think that it's degrading?"
Something inside Cassidy snapped. "It's bad enough that you're doing it, but don't pretend that it wasn't what you wanted all along!"
Jenna's eyes widened. "I didn't know anything about it until Eric asked me. I'm sorry if you think I'm not being some old-school feminist, but I personally think you can still be hot and be a journalist."
"Of course you do," Cassidy said. She had clearly underestimated Jenna, who had managed to call her ancient and ugly without actually using the words. Without saying any more, Cassidy pulled open the restroom door.
As she walked back down the hall, Eric looked up from the police scanner. The small, black box was used to monitor police, ambulance, fire, and public utilities transmissions.
"Hey, Cassidy, didn't you tell me once that you know Jim Fate?" "Yeah. Casually." She managed a shrug. "Why?"