Easy on the Eyes (18 page)

I flip through my calendar, note a rather light February, and type a response: “I’m delighted to join you, please send me
details when possible.”

I’m hitting send when there’s a light rap on the door and Madison pops her head in. “Do you want a latte? I’m making a Starbucks
run.”

I shake my head. “I’m good. I’m just going to work until I leave for the Mario López segment. Then I’ll return to tape the
show.”

Mario is so easy to talk to that I arrive back at HBC in record time, which is a good thing since Libby had forgotten to tell
me she’d bumped Helene’s interview from noon to eleven.

Helene, the second of my cosmetic surgery features, is an attractive, bright brunette, a mix of Greek, Dutch, and Italian
heritage, and her story moved me before I even saw her photos.

Despite her college degree and strong oral and written communication skills, Helene had struggled to find a job. She finally
landed a bookkeeping position even though math wasn’t her forte, and she kept the books for a small construction company in
Apple Valley. Although she hadn’t been hired for public relations or sales, she made numerous suggestions to the company’s
VP of marketing, ideas that were used and ended up greatly benefiting the company. When a position in sales and customer service
opened, a position that paid ten thousand a year more than she was getting, she applied for it, thinking she would be a great
fit. Instead they hired a young recent college grad with no job experience. Helene was devastated. When she asked why she’d
been passed over for the position, one she knew she was more than qualified to do, the VP had said, “Juliet’s personality
makes her better suited to the job.”

It was then that I looked at Helene’s before photos. The pictures reveal a somber, dark-eyed brunette with big eyes, long
black eyelashes, a humped nose, and no chin. The lack of chin made her face look top-heavy and contributed to the appearance
of an overbite.

I can see how someone might form an opinion that she wasn’t socially adept based on the photo. Worse, she doesn’t appear bright
or confident. Much has been documented on how quickly we form opinions, and we form these opinions in a split second or less.
We use appearances and impressions, and in the blink of an eye we might judge someone attractive, confident, intelligent,
successful, or plain, slow, mean-spirited, humorless.

I haven’t seen Helene’s after photos. Instead I’m going to just meet her live, and I’m looking forward to this interview.

I pop into makeup and then I’m on the set getting miked when Libby walks Helene onto the stage. Helene greets me with a smile
and outstretched hand, and she radiates energy and warmth. Her brown eyes sparkle and her handshake is firm. “It’s very nice
to meet you,” she says earnestly.

“Thank you for agreeing to be part of the story,” I answer, amazed that this is the same woman from the photo. She’s actually
quite striking, and I start our interview with the question uppermost in my mind: “Are you still with the same company, or
do you have a better job?”

“I have a better job.”

“Good. Your story really upset me.”

“It was tough, but things are so much better now. I’m a human resources manager for a Fortune 500 company based here in Los
Angeles— ”

“Hoping it’s a better salary.”

She smiles. “Twice the salary I had before, plus two weeks’ vacation, great health benefits, and perks like travel and free
gym membership.”

“Did you go back to school, take new course work?”

“No.”

“So how did this happen? What changed?”

Helene looks me in the eye. “My face. I had a chin implant and this part”— she puts her finger to the bridge of her nose—
“shaved down. The doctor suggested braces to help with my overbite, but I didn’t do that. I didn’t think it necessary.”

“You’re happy with your decisions?”

“Thrilled,” she says quietly. “People now see me the way I’ve always seen myself. This person”— and she gestures from the
top of her head all the way down— “was here the whole time, but most people couldn’t see past my profile, or lack of.”

“Any regrets?”

Her expression grows wistful. “I just wish I’d done it sooner.”

Harper’s standing by the cameras with her clipboard as I detach the mike after the interview. “That’s brilliant,” she says,
walking with me toward the decorated show stage where we’re scheduled to tape tonight’s show, including the new lead Harper’s
been working on.

“Thank you.” I slip off the chestnut blazer I wore for the interview, revealing a slim sheath dress.

“Do you ever think you don’t belong here, that maybe this isn’t the best format for you?”

The glow I’d felt at her compliment quickly fades. I shoot her a sharp glance. “I like what I do.”

“Yes, but you’re really good one-on-one in interviews, as good as Meredith or Katie— ”

“Harper, this is my job. And if memory serves, we have a show to do.” My voice is clear and steady. My tone is professionally
crisp.

But Harper isn’t fazed. “Glenn’s mentioned a special you want to do. Field stories. Investigative pieces.”

“They’d actually be human interest,” I correct, wondering why Glenn mentioned my idea to her. “When did this conversation
takes place?”

Harper stands to the side as the teleprompter is rolled forward and different lights come on. I take my place in one of the
tall director chairs as everyone does a sound and light check.

“I brought the subject up.” She steps over black cables as the robotic cameras move. “I told him I thought HBC was underutilizing
you. That’s when he mentioned your show idea.”

“Did he seem open to my idea?”

“Noncommittal. But I’d like to hear more about it sometime. I think it’s a great idea. I hope you’re able to make it happen.”
She glances at her clipboard and then exclaims, “Speaking of making it happen, tonight’s new lead is pretty big. Not sure
if you’re going to be comfortable covering it.”

“Why not?”

“Mark’s been on the phone for the past hour checking sources, but apparently Kiki’s pregnant— ”

“Kiki? Trevor’s Kiki?” My voice cracks and I can’t hide my shock.

He had been lying…

He was sleeping with her…

That explains why he didn’t call. But it also feels so much worse.

Harper’s scrutinizing my face, reading my reaction. “We have a new opening for tonight’s show. It’s the big story. Can you
handle it, or do we need to call in another anchor? Shelby’s around, I believe….”

Her voice drifts away, and I know what she’s asking. Am I tough enough, strong enough, to report dirt, particularly dirt on
my former boyfriend? Am I the kind of anchor who would cover a story like this?

My conscience screams. Keith would scream. He’d be disgusted by the very idea, and I’m against this messy, sleazy form of
journalism. But this is also my show, and I won’t have everyone running to Shelby every time my scruples are smashed. “I’ll
do it,” I say, smashing my doubts and misgivings.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Here’s the new copy, then. We tape in five.”

That’s all the time we have as someone from wardrobe comes running out with a chunky gold necklace to add visual interest
to my hunter green sheath dress.

David smoothes my hair, flattening the flyaways before spritzing with spray while I skim the text that will be on the teleprompter.
Vanessa powders my nose and applies a peachy pink gold lip gloss, and then I’m back on the stage, standing on my spot.

Harper’s on the side with Libby and Mark. The floor director is counting down time. The three robotics zoom in. I’m given
the signal, and smiling, I look straight into the camera. “You heard it here first! An exclusive— breaking news! Kiki and
Trevor’s love child.”

By the time we’ve taped tonight’s show, and tomorrow’s tease as well as the tease for the hiatus show, I’m drained, and just
plain nauseated. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, although I did have a grilled chicken salad in the break room fridge waiting
for me. It was too hectic with the interviews and back-to-back shows, never mind the news that Trevor and Kiki are having
a baby together.

A
baby
.

I shudder and shove the image of a pregnant Kiki out of mind as I really don’t want to think about him, them, or the baby
anymore.

At home I wash my face, eat a bowl of cereal, and climb into bed telling myself that tomorrow can’t be as hectic, or mind-numbingly
awful, as today.

But tomorrow begins worse.

Somehow in the rush of interviews and taping and anchoring I’d forgotten that today was the announcement of this year’s Golden
Globe nominations, and when my phone rings at five-twenty a.m. and it’s still dark outside, I’m certain something terrible
has happened.

But it’s only Max waking me up with the news that Trevor has just been nominated for his first Golden Globe.

I prop myself up in bed, shove a heavy fistful of hair from my eyes. “You woke me up to tell me Trevor’s up for an award?”

“A
Golden Globe
. And you’ve ruined it.”

I’m really not in the mood for this now. “What are you talking about?”

“His nomination. Everyone should be focused on his performance and the Globe nomination, but instead the only thing people
are talking about is Kiki’s pregnancy.”

“It’s true, then?”

“Jesus Christ, Tiana!”

I don’t know why, but I smile. Max sounds so outraged, so upset that his golden boy’s golden moment has been tarnished. But
I don’t feel bad for Trevor. Trevor’s a shit, and he shit on me. “Well, if that’s all, I’m going back to bed.”

“That’s not all. You owe him— ”

“
Owe
him?” I interrupt, outraged. I sit all the way up in bed, knees bent, heart thumping. “Did you really just say that, Max?”

As if realizing he’s pushed me too far, he backpedals just a little. “Maybe an interview will suffice.”

I laugh out loud. I am so sick of being kicked around. “I’m not interviewing him. I’m not interested in him or concerned with
furthering his career.”

“Not even if it furthers your career?”

Max has me there, and he pushes his point. “Every time your name is linked with Trevor’s, your show ratings go up. You know
it, and doll, whether you’ll admit it or not, you need him— ”

I hang up. My phone rings immediately. I’m about to turn it off when I see it’s Harper calling. Harper rarely calls me when
I’m at home, which makes me think she’s just heard about Trevor’s nomination.

“Morning, Harper.”

“Trevor Campbell’s up for his first Golden Globe, for best supporting actor.”

“I’ve already heard.” I throw back the covers and slide into my robe. “Why are you up so early?”

“I always wake up early to hear the list of nominees,” she says primly. “How did you hear?”

“My agent. Max reps both of us.”

“Did he expect you to celebrate with him?”

I smile, relax a little, liking Harper more and more. “He thought I’d want to interview him. Apparently it’d be good for show
ratings.”

“You need a different agent.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing.” I head to the kitchen to make much needed coffee.

“You’re not going to do the interview, are you?” she asks.

I fill the pot with water. “Max said I need him, but Max is wrong. I don’t need Trevor, and I don’t need Max, and I don’t
need a man to make my life— or this show— great.”

“Preach it, sister! It’s about time.”

*    *    *

The two weeks leading up to Christmas are frenetically busy. We’re taping shows back to back, and everyone is in overdrive.
I’m just counting down the days until December 22, when I begin my nine-day break. It’s my longest vacation of the year, five
workdays sandwiched between weekends and holidays.

Friday morning, my last morning before my break, Glenn calls me into his office. When he tells me to close the door, I have
an unpleasant déjà vu sensation and flash back to the day last month when Glenn told me the show wanted to make Shelby my
co-host.

As I sit down, I cross my legs and wait. He doesn’t waste time.

“They want to introduce Shelby as co-host when we return to live shows the first of the year.”

My lips part, but I make no sound. Instead I squeeze the water bottle I carried in with me, gripping it so hard that my knuckles
shine white.

“Because your numbers are up so much, the execs thought it best to add her soon, while you’re pulling in the viewers.” He
talks quietly, unemotionally, and the words just keep coming. “We’re going to have you tape a series of teases this afternoon
letting viewers know something big is happening on January second.”

I squeeze the bottle until it pops. I jerk at the sound.

My good numbers have worked against me. My increase in viewership did nothing to protect me.

And then it hits me: They made their decision weeks ago. Nothing I could have done could have prevented this.

Glenn shuffles a few papers in front of him. “And there’s one more thing. The network is dividing the awards coverage among
the show hosts this year. You will still cover the Academy Awards. Shelby will work the red carpet with you— ”

“We’re sharing the Academy Awards?”

His gaze meets mine and holds. “And she’s hosting our Golden Globe pre-show with Manuel. It hasn’t been decided who will cover
the SAG Awards. It might be Manuel, or it might be him with one of you girls.”

One of us girls. Love it.

I stand. “Is that all?”

“Tiana, you’ve done a good job here. We’re all big fans of your work. We think adding Shelby will make your job easier. It’ll
give you someone to chitchat with. Enjoy a little banter.”

Chitchat and banter. I smile so hard that my cheeks ache. “Fabulous.”

“This isn’t a demotion— ”

“Of course not. It’s a wonderful opportunity. Right?” I look him in the eye. “ You know, on second thought, I need a break,
Glenn. I’m sure Shelby can cover for me in my absence.”

“How long will you be gone?” he asks, clearly stunned.