Rebecca sat on a folding chair on the front porch, dabbing at her sweaty forehead with a paper napkin and looking down, with distaste, at the plate of barbecue she’d just been handed.
“Sooo,” she said, looking over at Hattie and Cass and Mo and Trae. “That went well, don’t you think?”
“Well?” Mo took a swig from his beer bottle. “That’s kind of faint praise, isn’t it?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Rebecca said. “I’m sure you’ll do wonders with it in postproduction, but I just thought the big reveal was … I don’t know. Kind of quiet?”
“We took a falling-down piece of crap and in less than six weeks transformed it into a showplace,” Mo said, his voice rising as his annoyance grew. “The before and after shots are going to be amazing. We’ve got a ton of drama in this season, Hattie buying the house with a sealed bid, then the discovery of that billfold…”
“We literally uncovered a skeleton and solved an old cold-case murder, Becc,” Trae added.
“Well, yeah, I guess that does up the suspense,” Rebecca admitted.
“And don’t forget our makeup and breakup,” Trae said, pointing at Hattie. “Think of all the publicity that generated for the show. I can’t leave my hotel room in downtown Savannah without someone stopping me to ask when Hattie and I are getting engaged.”
“That would be never,” Hattie said quickly.
Cass pointed her beer bottle at Rebecca. “Y’all, the vibe I’m getting here is that she’s trying to tell us something. And it’s not good. Right, Rebecca?”
Rebecca dipped a plastic spoon into the cup of banana pudding, then scraped most of it off before tasting.
She dropped the spoon and grimaced. “Why is everything so sweet down here? I’m amazed everyone doesn’t go into diabetic shock from just looking at this food.”
“Rebecca?” Mo pressed. “Why are you here? Has Tony seen any of the raw footage I’ve been sending you?”
“I was hoping we could discuss this someplace more private,” Rebecca said, looking around at the faces focused on hers.
“Obviously, Cass is right. You’ve got bad news. So just tell me. Us. All of us have a stake in this show. What’s the deal?”
“Tony has seen a bit of the early footage. He’s incredibly busy right now. What I can tell you is that he wasn’t bowled over. I told him, ‘Tony, just wait. Mo’s team has done an incredible job with this house,’ but he isn’t buying in. The thing is, we’re just not sure this concept is going to win us the demographic we’re looking for.”
“Which means what?” Mo demanded.
“Okay, we’re definitely going to honor our commitment for six episodes, so no worries there.”
Mo’s expression relaxed a little.
“But not on Wednesday night. Tony got an early look at Byron’s new show, Haunted Hideaways, and honestly, Mo, it just hits all the sweet spots for the new direction the network is headed in. It’s dark, it’s gritty, it’s going to bring us that elusive eighteen- to thirty-year-old male demographic, and it’s a new kind of storytelling. We’re incredibly excited about it.”
Mo closed his eyes and leaned his head back for a moment as he digested Rebecca’s bombshell. Finally, he leaned forward, his jaw muscle so tight it twitched.
“Haunted Hideaways? Isn’t your network called Home Place TV? Give me a fucking break, Rebecca. You think a show from the guy who dreamed up Bulldozing Bayonne is going to win you Wednesday nights? What have you people been smoking?”
Rebecca stood up and smoothed the fabric of her very tight pencil skirt. She dumped the plate of food in a plastic trash barrel. “I knew you weren’t going to take this very well, but Tony was insistent that I be the one to tell you, and in person. As I said, we’ll honor our commitment. Right now, the plan is to do test screenings as soon as you’re done with postproduction. Barring any major surprises, we’re holding a slot for The Homewreckers on the Sunday afternoon lineup.”
“What? Following reruns of Mobile Home Makeovers? Or as a lead-in for Garage Sale Mayhem?”
Rebecca’s large black crocodile handbag began emitting a series of insistent beeps. She reached inside and glanced at her phone. Moments later, a black town car came bumping down the driveway toward the house. “There’s my ride. Mo, we can discuss this later. Hattie, Cass? Wonderful job. Our marketing people have ideas for some promotional events you two could do in support of Homewreckers this fall. Trade shows, county fairs, like that. We’ll be in touch. Trae—see you next week. Right?”