“Your final episode was insanity,” Katelyn Carson said. “I have no idea how you did it. I was scared to death for you.”
Avery’s sunken minivan episode, which she had dedicated to her fallen predecessor, continued to be popular. It was not only the most watched hour of the season, but had racked up millions of views on the network’s online streaming service.
“What you couldn’t see on television,” Avery said, “were the rescue divers surrounding the van and ready to save me if I ran into any trouble.”
“I don’t care if Aquaman was in that pool, I would never have been able to do it. Everyone here was talking about it earlier.”
“I have Christine to thank for making it look so good.”
Christine shook her head. “I didn’t need to do much other than roll the tape. You did the rest.”
“I heard ratings were through the roof,” Katelyn said.
“Through the roof, indeed,” came a deep voice from behind them.
Avery felt the smile fall from her face as she looked over her shoulder to see not just Mosley Germaine, but David Hillary as well. She quickly recovered and forced her lips upward again.
“American Events has really brightened your star,” Mosley said.
The subtle jab—that the show had created Avery’s popularity—did not go unnoticed. Nor did the fact that she had removed her high heels in order to navigate through the sand. She badly wanted the inches back as Mosley Germaine approached her.
“Mosley,” Avery said, still smiling. “The house looks beautiful, as always.”
“Thank you. It begs the question of why you’re hiding down here on the beach.”
“Not hiding. Just enjoying the ambiance. It must be amazing to have the ocean as your neighbor.”
“We hoped you would have joined us for drinks before dinner,” David Hillary said, steering the conversation despite Avery’s best efforts at small talk.
“I didn’t see you when I arrived,” Avery said to Germaine. “And, Mr. Hillary, I didn’t even know you were here. What a treat.” She pointed at his white seersucker. “I love your suit.”
“Dinner is about to be served,” Mosley said. “So I guess we’ll have no time for drinks.”
“Already? I feel like I just got here. Christine and I were catching up with Katelyn. We don’t get to see her much these days.”
Mosley smiled. He looked at Katelyn and Christine. “Would you mind giving David and me a moment alone with Avery?”
“Sure,” Katelyn said.
Christine nodded. “Of course.”
“Everyone is getting seated,” Mosley said. “We’ll just be a minute.”
Despite her best efforts to avoid this very situation, Avery found herself alone with not only her boss, but her boss’s boss as well.
“Avery,” David said after Katelyn and Christine were gone. “I wanted to take a moment in private to let you know how very impressed I’ve been this year with what you’ve done on American Events. You’ve really leaned into the show and allowed it to display your strengths as a journalist and host.”
Avery smiled. Another backhanded compliment. She bit her tongue and didn’t take the bait. This could get ugly fast if she wasn’t careful.
“Mosley and I are confused about why you rejected the contract extension.”
“Yes, about that. My agent and I are preparing a counteroffer but we don’t have everything finalized just yet.”
“We offered the extension weeks ago.”
“I know. I was concentrating on finishing the last few episodes of AE and, unfortunately, all my focus has gone into the show.”
“Understandable,” David said. “But the season has ended and we need an answer from you. You’re either in, or you’re out. You see, we run one of the most successful networks on television for a reason. We plan things out for the future and don’t like surprises. We’re trying to lock in the fall lineup, and we need to know if that includes you or not.”
“Of course. I’m meeting with Dwight this week.”
“What was the problem with the offer? We heard only that you had rejected it, but no specifics were given,” Mosley asked.
“Well . . .” Avery said. “You know, I wasn’t prepared to discuss this tonight. Maybe we could put it off until next week when I can bring Dwight into the discussion.”
“Time is of the essence,” Mosley said. “We’re working on a tight deadline to get things organized for the fall. Perhaps you could hint at what the holdup is about.”
It was more a statement that a question.
“Dwight was hung up on the dollar value,” Avery said.
“Dwight Corey was hung up?” David asked.
“At first glance, yes. But he and I were going to rework the numbers now that the show has wrapped for the season.”
“The yearly compensation offered pays you handsomely and puts you in line with your contemporaries. After just your first year hosting the show, we believe that’s quite generous.”
An overwhelming urge flooded Avery’s system to point out that putting her “in line” with her competition was an insult. She had beaten her head-to-head competition in the ratings every week for the past year, so the network should compensate her not for being on par with the other network personalities, but for being far above them in every demo. She also wanted to mention how inappropriate it was for these two pompous egomaniacs to isolate her out on the beach and use their positions of power to intimidate her into negotiating a contract without her agent being present. But she swallowed her urges and offered a fake smile that told them without words what she thought of the offer.
“Like I said, I promise to take a hard look at the contract this week, now that I have a bit of free time. And Dwight will get back to you right away with our thoughts.”
“You do that,” David said. “We look forward to hearing your thoughts. American Events is on hiatus for summer, but we can’t allow the show to be in limbo for too long. American Events finished first in the ratings, and we want to pick up in the fall exactly where we left off. If for any reason you decide not to be part of that effort, we’d like enough time to choose your successor.”
“The list is long,” Mosley said. “Of potential suitors. American Events has the ability to make a star out of anyone who helms it. If you decide to part ways, the network would appreciate some time to prep the new host on exactly what leading AE requires.”
She wanted badly to call their bluff. Replacing Avery now, after the show’s most successful season, would be suicide. But she played along.
“I’ll call Dwight in the morning,” she said. “We’ll get right on it.”
Both men nodded as if the conversation had gone exactly as planned, then turned in the sand and headed back toward the house. It took Avery a couple of minutes to stop shaking after they were gone. Finally, she walked up the beach and across the gangplank. The remnants of sunset cast her shadow in a thin silhouette in front of her as she walked. The breeze was fresh and cool and made her realize how much she had been sweating. When she made it to the patio, she slipped her feet back into her high heels and walked along the side of the pool, which was glowing red from underwater lights, past tiki torches that lined the perimeter of the patio, and around propane fire-pit tables that gave off enough heat to hold off the chill of the ocean breeze. Servers pushed carts that held the evening’s feast—roasted duck with mixed vegetables—and began serving dinner. Just as Avery took her assigned seat, Mosley Germaine stood from his throne at the head of the table and used a fork to lightly tap his wineglass and capture everyone’s attention.