Calculated Risk (21 page)

Jerry’s grin broadened even further,
his hand smoothed graying blond hair that grew thick despite an
ever-receding hairline. “I love it!”

Vikki looked up, her spoon continuing
to pierce the tight seal of mozzarella cheese that blanketed the
savory onion broth. “Love what?”

“You still don’t take it in,
do you?” At her bewildered expression, Jerry exhaled a patient
sigh. “You, Victoria Kirkland, are lusted after by ninety percent
of the male population. According to TV Guide, various soap
magazines, the internet and a small notation in
Time
, you are currently the most
scheming, manipulative woman on TV, who is seldom found in anything
but a horizontal position and whose torrid, uncensored cable love
scenes make regular and even premier network officials pale and
envious.”

“You’re describing Vixen Mallory,
Jerry,” Vikki countered. “She’s the one who has been married four
times, murdered her last two husbands and was never caught, had
three abortions, has been raped, kidnapped and enslaved, seduced
her stepson and minister, succeeded in driving her sister-in-law
insane …” She drew a deep, chastising breath. “You had the nerve to
say I looked tired!”

Their joint laughter caused the
surrounding patrons’ heads to turn. Again, Vikki fell victim to
whispers and questionable glances. Shifting in nervous discomfort,
she reached for a calming mouthful of mineral water.

“All humility aside —“ Jerry
paused to blow across the spoonful of steaming soup, “—this plan of
mine has worked out brilliantly. I’ve kept the entire cast,
writers, and crew in a cloak of mystery for the last year and a
half, letting the news media’s imagination run wild with
titillating stories leaked here and there. Fans are chomping at the
proverbial bit to read, see, and hear anything about
Always Tomorrow
.”

He rubbed his hands together
in a savoring gesture. “Vikki, this is going to be
the
year.” Jerry’s index
finger stabbed the air. “
Your
year. Do you know your fan mail has jumped to ten
thousand letters a week? We’ve stopped counting the
emails.”

“I’m afraid to ask how many are death
threats.”

“None! Vikki –“ he twisted the gold
nugget ring on his pinky “—the women of America admire your
strength, your spirit. Vixen Mallory goes after what she wants.
Nothing and no one gets in her way. She spits at sentimentality.”
Jerry’s expression was serious. “While the men may lust and
fantasize about being seduced by Vixen, women fantasize too. They
want to be Vixen. They’re tired of being victims; they want to stir
things up and take what they want without a twinge of
conscience.”

Vikki opened her mouth but
once again, the public relations man’s voice interrupted. “Vixen
Mallory is going to be number one this year. The billboard and the
mink ads are just a warm up. This hits the newsstands today.” Jerry
handed her the January issue of
Playboy
. “Peter Finch’s camera lens
loves you. He’s going to be the photographer on next week’s Vixen
perfume ads.”

Blue eyes briefly inspected the glossy
pages of the fabled men’s magazine. Vikki silently wondered how her
parents would take to this latest publicity gimmick. Maybe the
magazine wasn’t sold aboard they cruise ship they were on in the
South Pacific. “This will definitely cause a commotion.” She drew a
deep breath, her brother’s would never stop razzing her
now.

“It had better or I’m out of a job!”
With a satisfied smile, Jerry spread chocolate butter on warm,
fresh bread. “You know, Vikki, you’ve been one helluva good sport
about doing all this.” He shook his head. “I remember the all-night
session the cast and I had talking you into being the show’s main
focus.”

She stared at the salad, her fork
spearing a vinaigrette-glossed potato and anchovy. “I’d do anything
for them. They’re top-rate professionals, all of them. Besides
being twenty of the most wonderful human beings I have ever met.”
Vikki’s eyes locked into Jerry’s. “We are a family, working
eighteen to twenty hours a day on a labor of love.

“We both know Vixen Mallory was a
fluke, an accident. I was the associate producer on an
up-and-coming cable soap and one day an extra didn’t show. I just
happened to have a union card and could fit into the slinky dress
that was in the wardrobe department. I knew nothing about
acting.”

Jerry swallowed a mouthful
of lettuce. “As I recall, all you did was sit in a chair, cross
those long legs and begin to unbutton the dress.” One brown eye
gave a broad wink. “Face it, Vikki, you’re a natural talent.” He
tapped the cover of
Playboy
. ”You photograph beautifully.
You convey more with those wicked blue eyes and pouty lips than an
army of trained professionals.”

Vikki stared at the magazine for a long
time, a myriad of memories clicking through her mind. Suddenly a
very vixenish laugh bubbled from her throat. “I’d love to get my
hands on two hundred and twelve issues.”

“Well, I – I suppose I can get them.”
He blotted his lips. “I know you have a big family but
…”

“Not family, Jerry. That’s how many
kids were in my high school graduation class.” At his baffled
expression, she continued. “Let’s be brutally honest for a moment.
Without the designer wardrobe I’ve been fitted into and allowed to
use, without the considerable talents of the studio makeup man and
hairdresser, precision lighting, and practiced camera angles, I’m
just a plain Jane.”

Her upraised palm halted his sputtered
interruption. “You are promoting a girl who was twenty pounds
overweight all through high school and college, who kept Clearasil
in business and nearly developed curvature of the spine from trying
to hide breasts that developed in the fifth grade.” Vikki’s lips
twisted against remembered adolescent cruelties.

“I just never fit in. I was totally
opposite of whatever the current style was. I was over developed
and had curls.” Her long fingers pulled against the cascade of hair
that tumbled against her shoulders. “My father came home early from
work and caught me ironing my hair. I can still feel that beating.
My four brothers claim they don’t recognize me without the giant
purple rollers I wore twenty hours a day trying to straighten out
this Shirley Temple mop.

“I never had a date all through high
school. I missed the junior prom and the boy I asked to the senior
ball turned me down. College, well …” she licked full lips. “That
was all work and no play until I met Gregg. He saw the woman that
had been hiding in me; he goaded, teased, nurtured, and loved me,
but then –“ her voice faltered “— he was taken away.”

Vikki’s chin tilted
downward, her gaze concentrated on the magazine. “I’d dearly love
to send two hundred and twelve issues out with a big:
So there
! Scrawled on
each cover!”

Long scarlet-tipped fingers
curved around her glass, lifting in a toasting gesture. “Here’s to
a dynamite year for you, continued number one status for
Always Tomorrow
and –“
Vikki favored Jerry with a wide-eyed glance and disarming smile “—
here’s to Video Vixen, the lady who’s given me the best year of my
life and who made turning thirty a prime number!” Their glasses
clicked to a simultaneous “amen.”

“I am very glad your attitude has
changed, Vikki. You were a little …um…pigheaded about accepting any
of these fashion layouts and cosmetic contracts.”

“Awed and overwhelmed,“ she rectified.
“It’s a new experience for me to be wanted for my…body.”

Jerry aimed a butter-smeared knife at
her. “You really are a natural in front of any camera. Stick with
me, kid, and you’ll have fame and fortune.”

Her empty soup bowl was pushed to one
side. “The fortune part is heavenly. I’m earning more in one day
than I ever did in a month. I’m also enjoying giving back to my
parents a little fun they so richly deserve and to my brothers and
their families and charity. But the fame –“ Vikki’s eyebrows arched
“—I’m a realist. Fame is fleeting. Fifteen minutes, isn’t it? But
I’ll have some fun.” She gave a low laugh. “Those phantom writers
in their Mt. Olympus office towers may decide to –“ her index
finger sliced across her throat “— eliminate the scheming
villainess.”

“Not unless your fan mail drops below
five hundred a week,” came his dry quip. “Seriously, Vik, on screen
or off, you handle yourself like a pro. The hierarchy loves the
fact that Vixen Mallory is no vacuous cupcake.”

Her fork toyed with a black olive,
batting it back and forth across the nearly empty salad plate.
“They have real stars to thank for that. Turning Vikki into Vixen
took the combined talents of everyone involved. It took a lot of
perseverance to teach this rank amateur about voice inflection,
movement, presence, and hundreds of other essentials.” Vikki
exhaled a trapped breath. “I’m smart enough to realize this is just
an event in my life, not a career, and when all this melts, I’m
lucky enough to have a master’s degree in broadcasting to fall back
on.”

A gold napkin wiped thin lips. “Nothing
is going to melt –“ Jerry nodded toward the restaurants full wall
of ice-crystal-etched windows “—especially in this rotten January
weather. I have a few plans to map out for the next onslaught of
publicity. How would you feel about letting that new CNN talk show
host take a crack at an hour with Vixen?”

“I noticed you said
Vixen
not
Vikki.”

“Image, baby, image. You think the
public is going to want to hear that you live in a converted
carriage house in Connecticut, like to do needlepoint and crewel,
put up fresh jam and bake bread?” Jerry’s tone issued a stern
warning

“Being Victoria Kirkland anyplace else
but in the safety and confines of your own home is the kiss of
death. No one wants to hear how ‘nice’ you are. That you have great
parents, four terrific brothers, love schnauzers and work at the
local level for stiffer drunk-driving laws.”

“But..but…Jerry!” She sputtered in
abject alarm. “That is me. Vikki is real. Vixen is not.”

“But..but…” he mimicked,
“the fans don’t put a great deal of distance between the actress
and the character. They expect you to
be
Vixen. Expect, hell! They demand
it.”

Elbows on the table, Jerry’s voice lost
its biting edge. “Let me share a few facts with you, Vikki. While
the major networks have cancelled some of their long running soaps,
the few that are left are still pulling in big bucks and sponsors.
Nighttime dramas are coming back; reality shows are
waning.

“But soap fever bubbles in big city
bars, office buildings and on college campuses. The Hispanic
telanovellas are booming and the internet network download sites
bring in viewers from around the world.

“Soaps are well-written and carefully
conceived to make people aware of a variety of problems, and how
and where to get help and cope with those problems. Despite reality
shows, characters and story lines become extended families to
viewers. Cults develop.” Jerry’s brown eyes narrowed.

“Those cults are for Vixen Mallory, not
Vikki Kirkland. Vixen’s the character they connect with, cheer at,
cry with, swear at, hate, and love. Vixen is it. Preserve Vixen.
Shield her. When the credits roll, Vixen Mallory is the name that
is shown. Don’t let anyone or anything destroy her.”

A shiver coursed along
Vikki’s spine despite the opulent warmth provided by the black
mink. “I guess this Vixen’s a virgin when it comes to knowing the
public’s reaction. I just assumed everyone realizes that the
characters on
Always Tomorrow
are pure fantasy. Now I’m scared.”

“Good.” He relaxed against the
leather-backed dining chair, opening the single button of his
charcoal suit jacket. “I want you to be on guard twenty-four-seven.
You are a hot ticket that I intend to keep at the boiling
point.”

Playing Vixen during non-working hours
was going to require a more intense acting talent, Vikki
rationalized with silent contemplation. As it was, her soap role
consumed eighteen to twenty hours a day, adding in the newly
acquired cosmetic contract, upcoming interviews, and personal
appearances, Victoria Kirkland would disappear. Would that be so
bad?

That dealer of deleterious deeds,
Vixen, had propelled Vikki further than she had ever dreamed. Why
not sit back, relax, and let that vivid, vital vamp reap a few
rewards? At least for a while.

After examining the check, Jerry ripped
off the receipt and tossed a collection of bills on the table. “Why
don’t we share a cab? I’ll drop you off at the studio before I head
over to my office. I have a few irons in the fire that need a
gourmet’s touch. I’ll be in to talk to the cast, crew, and writers
after the final taping, around nine tonight.”

He took temporary possession of the fur
coat, holding the bulk of the weight as Vikki’s arms slid into the
red-silk-lined sleeves. His hands brought the wide collar up around
her face. “Goodness, you and this mink make a stunning
pair.”

Cosmetic wizardry turned
ice-blue eyes into exotic slits that formed the now famous vixen
glance. “
Goodness
had little to do with it!” Her tart, coquettish voice turned
serious against his laughter. “Although, I wouldn’t have done the
ad or taken the coat without prior assurance that these animals
were bred for consumer use.”