“So, you’re just going to pimp me out like … some … space whore?” I ask.
“Yes, Ben. Yes, I am.” Dev sits back in his chair. “I’d pimp out the entire team if it meant taking top-billing away from those Mars sons of bitches.”
“Well, that’s just perfect,” I say, folding my arms. “Why don’t we just pose shirtless with puppies like firefighters? We could make our own calendar.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Dev answers with a grin.
“I’m not serious!”
“I am. Times are tough, my friend. At any moment, we could lose our funding completely and we’ll all be out on our asses. I’m not sure if you know this or not, but there aren't exactly a plethora of places hiring astrophysicists,” Dev says. “If you can be the key to us all having jobs, you owe it to the rest of us to make that happen. That’s what being a leader is about. Sometimes you have to take one for the team.”
My shoulders slump and I stare at him, scrambling to think of a viable counterargument. Nope. I’m totally blank.
“I’m going to make this very simple for you, Ben. Every Monday morning from now until the world gets tired of you, you’re going to be at that studio talking us up. And if you do that, you’ll get to come back here and spend the rest of the week doing the work you love,” he says. “If you don’t, you won’t.”
“You’d fire me? Are you serious?” I ask, my heart pounding.
“Don’t think of it like that. Think of it as me safeguarding the continued job security of all of my employees, including you.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Fine. I’ll do it, but …” I try to think of the perfect threat, but only manage to come up with, “I’m not coming to the Christmas party this year. Not if it’s at your house.”
There. I told him.
Nine
Serafina
“Six hundred dollars? You can’t be serious?” Charley practically yells when I hand her a check for her modeling appearance on Wake Up America!
“Apparently the money is why models are so willing to go on auditions they might not get. Take it and enjoy, but don’t fall for the lure of easy cash,” I caution her.
“As if there’s any way I could ever be a real model,” she grumbles.
I remember all too well the angst associated with being a teenager and I feel for my young friend. “Can you imagine what they’re saying about you at your high school right now? Because you know the word is out that you modeled on Wake Up America!”
“How could the word be out? I don’t even keep in touch with anyone.” She plops down on a bean bag chair looking more forlorn than I remember seeing her.
Winking at her, I pick up my phone. After going to the search bar and hitting the microphone and speaker buttons simultaneously, I say, “Call Eleanor Falls Academy in New York.”
Charley’s eyes pop wide open when she hears the secretary answer the phone. “Eleanor Falls Academy. How may I help you?”
Plugging my nose to alter the tone of my voice, I say, “This is Sera Martin calling from The Post, I’d like to speak to your principal, please.”
“May I tell her what this is regarding?”
“I’m calling about Charlotte Jenkins. I believe she’s a sophomore at your school.”
“Not anymore,” the secretary says snidely. “What has she done now?”
Charley looks like she wants to jump into the phone and do something that would really get her into trouble. I simply say, “She was accepted into Yale at age fifteen and just made her national modeling debut on Wake Up America!”
“What?! That can’t be right.”
“May I quote you in my article?” I ask.
She gasps audibly before saying, “No! I mean, I’d rather you didn’t. Please hold for Principal Fox.”
While I wait, Charley says, “You can’t go telling them I’m going to be in an article in The Post. They’ll be looking for it.”
“Ye of little faith. My brother Zay’s girlfriend’s mother works there. I’ll just call in a couple favors and see what they can do.”
“Why would they want to write about me?”
“Because you, my young friend, are extraordinary and brilliant, funny and talented. You are exactly the kind of person people want to read about right now.”
After a quick chat with Charley’s old principal, where I suggest she might want to line up some students and teachers to be interviewed for the upcoming article, I hang up and offer my young employee a bright smile.
“No one is going to say anything nice about me,” she moans. “They’ll say I’m a freak with a penchant for getting into trouble.”
Shaking my head, I tell her, “No, they won’t. Trust me, they’re going to bend over backwards to look and act like they’re your best friends.”
“They’d be lying then,” she grumbles.
“So what? You didn’t like them anyway, and this is a fabulous way to exact your revenge.”
Throwing her head back dramatically, Charley replies, “I do dream about that.”
“I know you do, kid. And I’m here to help.” Before I can say anything else, my phone rings with the ringtone I’ve assigned to Wake Up America!, George Michael’s “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.”
Charley sits bolt upright with a look of pure excitement on her face as I answer, “Hello, Waltraut. What can I do for you?”
“Have you been on social media since our segment this morning?” she asks.
“Not yet. I just got back to my place and haven’t even had a chance to kick off my shoes yet.” Meanwhile Charley has opened her laptop and is clicking away.
“Go to Instagram,” Waltraut says. “I’ll wait.”
Charley hands over the screen and I say, “Okay, I’m on.”
“Go to the Wake Up America! profile.”
Click, click, click. “I’m there,” I tell her. Then I start to read the posts.
When I don’t say anything else for several beats, the producer says, “You’ll need a month to read everything. The long and short of it is that we want you and Dr. Ben to host a regular Monday morning spot.”
My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure my blood pressure is reaching some kind of danger zone. “I would love to!” I gush before saying, “But I’m pretty sure Dr. Williams won’t agree to it.”
“NASA has already approved his participation.”
“You’re joking.”
“I am not joking,” she says. “The two of you were such a powerhouse duo that the world has fallen in love with you.”
“But how? We could barely stand each other.” And even though there was a brief moment where I thought about jumping the man’s bones, those feelings went right away as soon as he opened his mouth.
“The world loves conflict, Serafina, and you and Ben brought that in spades. Now, do you have a pen? I’m going to give you Dr. Williams’ number. I need you to contact him and pitch me three segment ideas by tomorrow morning. I’ll pick my favorite, so you know which one to run with.”