The Boys' Club (9 page)

'Watch what you say there,' Keith said sternly. 'I'll protect my boys
like I protect you – until I find out who's doing the talking, that is.
Then I will personally fucking kill them.'

'Fine, Keith,' Rosie replied in a squeak.

'Now, you can piss off,' Keith continued, his attention back on the
TVs on the wall. 'Just try to be a bit patient with the boys, okay?'

'Grrrr,' Rosie answered, scrunching her brows into her angry face.

Keith grinned at her pathetic attempt to scold him and waved
his large hand to signal enough. Just as she reached the door he
asked one last question: 'Rosie, do you think I made a mistake with
Hunt?'

She looked back at the big mass of a man and saw how small and
vulnerable he really was. 'I will never lie to you, Keith, so the answer
is yeah, I reckon you did.'

Rosie spent the time between her drama with Keith and her four
o'clock with Bettina Arthur wisely. She wrote a press release with
quotes that made Graham Hunt sound contrite. Then she instructed
her staff that there would be no further comment on the matter and
personally rang every journalist who had called earlier to ensure
they had received the statement and would say no more. This was, of
course, an opportunity for her to get a sense of how they might skew
their stories or, in other words, just how high the sewage tide line
would be the next day.

Like seagulls, everyone wanted a chip thrown their way but Rosie
wasn't tossing. She knew they would be searching Hunt's closet for
skeletons and she suspected it held many. She was also aware that her
counterparts at Three would be only too happy to indulge in witch-hunts
in any way they could. So much for the feigned sympathy
her counterpart at Three, Val Richards, had tried to pass off at this
morning's Kennedys meeting.

Once she'd dealt with the other journos, Rosie knew she could no
longer put off the inevitable. It was time to call Greg Leach at the
Sentinel
. She was keen to find out how on earth Simon 'The Darkness'
Nash had discovered they'd once had a fling, as it was a bonk buddy
relationship at best, and she'd counted on Leach's discretion.

Before she picked up the phone, Rosie got up and shut her office
door. After what had already gone on today, she didn't want anyone
overhearing the conversation. As much as she tried, she couldn't
believe one of her own staff could be the leak. Still, there was no
point taking chances, even though she prided herself on having an
open door policy with colleagues at all times.
Yet another principle
compromised
, she realised.

Greg picked up his phone after two rings.
'
Sentinel
.'

'Greg, Rosie Lang, Network—'

'No need for you to explain who you are, Rosie. I'm glad you
called, though. I've been trying you all day.'

'I know and I'm sorry. There's been a bit going on here.'

'You're not wrong. My editor is on my back about getting a
follow-up on Hunt. I'm really going to need a comment from you. It
was a lovely dinner last night, by the way. You looked quite beautiful
in that dress. Wish I'd stayed on by the sound of things.'

'I have nothing to say in addition to the statement we released
earlier, Greg. Sorry.' Rosie knew she needed to draw a professional
line in the sand early.

'Come on, Rosie, you can't leave it like that. I mean, his marriage
will need to be addressed in some way.'

'Greg, I'm sorry but the network has nothing more to say. Full
stop. End of story. And Graham's marriage is his business.'

'But he'll need to say something about his ex wife's allegations,
surely?'

Rosie sucked in a deep breath and braced herself. 'What do you
mean, ex wife's allegations, Greg?'

'Holy shit, you don't know, do you?'

'Don't know what, Greg?'

'Rosie, I can't tell you . . . although I guess you'll find out soon
enough. What's the time by the way?'

'Greg, please, don't stuff me around. I'm not in the mood. What
don't I know?'

'Look, I'll give you the heads-up. Watch
Around Australia
at six-thirty
then call me back.'

'Greg, please. I've had a horrible day. Just tell me, will you?'

'Three has an exclusive with Hunt's ex wife that'll be front page
news for us tomorrow . . . Rosie, you still there?'

'I'm here,' she finally answered, the phone hanging limply in her
hand.

'Not a good day, huh?' Leach replied, trying to sound sympathetic.
'You can always come back to the light side and leave that place,
you know. You're a nice writer, Rosie, always have been. I think
that husband of yours tried to overshadow you. Just because he's
won awards doesn't mean he's bloody Hemingway. He's a first-class
wanker, if you ask me.'

'I didn't, but thanks, Greg. For everything. I mean that. But I'm
sure you can imagine I have a lot to do now.'

'I sure can imagine that,' he laughed. 'I'd love to be a fly on your
office wall.'

'Well, someone from the paper already is, Greg, so there may not
be room,' Rosie replied sharply. 'You seem to know more about what's
happening here than I do.'

'Rosie, I've told you a dozen times, I can't reveal my sources. You
know that.'

Rosie understood only too well but it infuriated her that her old
friend was privy to the leak's source and wouldn't share.

'I understand, but it's not easy,' she replied.

'That's PR for you,' Greg responded. 'Bitch of a job if you ask me.
I don't know how you do it.'

'I don't either,' Rosie answered.

'I feel for you, babe, I really do. Hey, I heard about Jeff and
Heather,' Greg continued. 'That's gotta be tough.'

Rosie took a second to control herself. Of course the entire
Sentinel
knew about her ex's marriage plans, she rationalised. Jeff still wrote a
weekly column for the paper.

'Yeah, divorce. What can I say? It ain't easy,' Rosie said, trying to
sound chipper and failing miserably.

'Well, if you need a shoulder to cry on, you know where I
live . . .'

Rosie was almost tempted. Just to curl up in a man's strong arms
was what she needed, but even her old port in a storm from her single
days was off-limits to her now.

'Thanks, Greg, you're a sweetie, but I think you understand
that might be a little compromising. Hey, can I ask you one more
question – did you ever tell anyone else about you and me, you know,
in the old days . . . ?'

'Of course not! You know I wouldn't!'

Greg's anger at her accusation relieved Rosie momentarily. She
didn't think he would be the Johnno Johnston type, big-noting his
sexual conquests to all interested parties and those, like Rosie, who
would rather not know.

'Cool, I believe you,' she said, and meant it.

'Hey, babe, good luck and don't forget to call me. I'll be waiting
by my phone. We'll want a fresh quote from you guys when you've
seen what the ex has to say. You know our deadlines but, as always,
sooner is better than later.'

'I'll do my best,' she replied curtly.

'And, Rosie,' Greg continued, 'it would be good if it could be
exclusive.'

'Yes, it would, wouldn't it,' she said cheekily, then hung up and
frantically dialled Mae's extension.

'He's not here,' Mae answered when she saw Rosie's number light
up.

'Mae, I need to speak to him. It's urgent.'

'He's actually gone home sick, if you can believe it,' Mae replied.
'First time I can recall in twenty-four years. What's happening?'

'Armageddon, that's what.'

Rosie shocked even herself with the efficiency of what happened
next. First, she rang Allan Bales's PA and told her to clear whoever was
in his office out – and pronto – as she was on her way up to see the
head of news right now. Then she rang legal and told the network's top
lawyer, Richard Barker, to meet her in Bales's office immediately. She
gave Lisa the job of finding Hunt and getting his sorry arse to the news
department – fast. As she was scrambling for a notepad, she looked up
and saw Bettina at her desk.

'Oh hell, I'm so sorry, Bettina, but something's come up and now
really isn't the best time. I'm going to have to reschedule our chat.'

Bettina gave her one of those looks that said, wordlessly, she thought
Rosie was a dishevelled, out-of-control mess. 'Dear me, Rose, you are
hard to get five minutes with,' Bettina said icily. 'What I have to say
to you is quite important, you know.'

'I know it is, Bettina, honest I do, but I have a bit of an emergency
on my hands.'

'Perhaps I can help?'

Yeah, you could get out of my face.

'Oh no, Bettina, I'll be fine. Just a hiccup. Happens every so often.'

'Well, if it's just a hiccup, I can have at least a minute then,' Bettina
said, closing Rosie's office door behind her.

Go away, will you, pest? Shoo!

'Rose, we need to speak about that meeting this morning. I have
never in my entire working life witnessed such behaviour,' Bettina
said, taking a seat. Rosie wasn't sure if she was talking about the
Kennedys meeting or Graham Hunt's performance but knew neither
was a good option.

'I think this network needs some big changes at the top. Plans are
in place and I need to know whether you want to be part of the new
Network Six or stick with the old. It's that simple.'

What Rosie really wanted to do was get on her knees, grab Bettina's
feet and beg her, for the love of God, to give her a payout and release
her from this living hell. But unforunately Rosie needed the money,
especially now she was paying for Leon's daycare as well as most of
the ridiculous mortgage on the Bondi house Jeff had insisted they
buy so he could be close to his beloved surf. Instead, she thanked
Bettina for her honesty and told her she would give things a lot of
thought. She was not about to betray Big Keith for anything or
anyone despite a nagging feeling that he might not reciprocate the
loyalty.

'I do hope to have you onside, Rose,' Bettina said. 'Let's face it, the
network needs more women like us.'

Rosie balked at the thought that she was a woman like Bettina.

'However, as much as I want you onside, I must also point out
that you can be replaced. I might come from a different world
than TV but I know business. Human resources are just resources.
Everyone – even me – is expendable in the end if it betters the
product and the bottom line.'

Rosie blanched at having been called a resource – and an
expendable one at that.

How does she expect to run a business fuelled on ego when people are
referred to as commodities?

'If I were you I wouldn't go calling the network talent "resources",
Bettina,' Rosie cautioned the steely woman in front of her. 'Morale is
low enough around this place.'

'This is no longer a vanity business run by old men intent on ratings,
not revenue, Rose. We will be moving on, that's all I'm saying.'

'I hear you, Bettina.'

'You may well think I'm the villain here, Rose, but behaviour like
this morning's simply has to stop. Keith's performance was absolutely
intolerable on every level. Tell me you agree. You can't possibly defend
that type of behaviour?'

Poor bloody Keith
, Rosie thought.
He didn't win any friends today.

'I understand things have to change, Bettina, and as I said earlier,
I'll give a lot of thought to what we've discussed. But in the meantime
I really have to go. There are several people waiting for me in a
meeting, so if you don't mind?'

'All right, Rose. I've said what needs to be said. It's up to you
now.'

The news department was probably the place Rosie felt most
comfortable and familiar in the entire network, which was surprising
given the cool reaction she received from the journos on the floor.
For a while she took it personally, until Allan Bales explained to her
that, just like newspaper reporters, they tended to look down on one
of their own who had gone to the dark side.

Rosie wasn't surprised when she learned this, as her very own
husband had done the same, deeming publicity a soft and humiliating
option for the wife of an award-winning writer.

As she entered Bales's office, she saw that Hunt and the lawyer
were already there as she'd requested, with the addition of Simon
Nash and Johnno Johnston.

'Gentlemen,' she said to the unwelcome duo, 'you're a surprise.
I don't know what this matter has to do with entertainment or
programming.' Even as she said the words, Rosie knew she shouldn't
have. She just didn't need matters to become even more complicated
than they already were.

Of course, it was Nash who fired back first, never one to take
a slight lightly. 'I hardly think it's up to you, Rose, to determine
which executives should be involved in such matters, especially
when you've done very little to help the situation thus far.' He shot
her his insidious grin, the one that made Rosie reconsider her pacifist
philosophy. She wanted to strangle the mean bastard until his hair
plugs popped.

'As Keith has gone home ill,' he went on, 'I am effectively in charge,
as instructed by Bettina Arthur, who, by the way, I have also asked to
join this meeting.'

Instructed by Bettina Arthur? I can imagine what Keith would think
about that!

'Now, if we can get to business, I hear we have quite a mess on our
hands with your charge Graham Hunt.'

My charge? I hardly hired him!

Rosie glanced at Allan Bales, who looked as pissed off with the
situation as she felt. Then the door opened and in came Bettina
Arthur.

'Good of you to come at short notice, Bettina,' Nash smarmed as
she took a chair beside him.

'Not a problem at all,' Bettina answered, clearly flattered. 'From
talking to Rose earlier I had no idea the matter was so serious.'

Great. Anyone else care to take a kick?

'It seems Rose's communication skills aren't quite up to par at
the moment, Bettina,' Nash replied. 'Frankly this concerns me,
considering she's our public mouthpiece.'

It took Rosie all her strength not to flee the room and keep on
running. The only thing that saved her was that she didn't want to
give Simon Nash the satisfaction.

'If everyone has finished critiquing my communications skills, you
may be interested to know the latest on Hunt,' Rosie said without
trying to hide the animosity in her voice. Allan Bales winked at her
approvingly.

Rosie told them about Greg Leach's tip-off before turning to
Hunt. 'Graham, what could your first wife possibly say about you?'

'She's a fucking mental case,' Hunt replied, still immune to Bettina
Arthur's dislike of colourful language. 'Bitch could say anything.'

'How did things end with you? Was it amicable?' Rosie asked.

'Shit no, the psycho took out a restraining order against me.
Reckons I beat her up.'

The room went silent as every pair of eyes turned to the obnoxious
saviour of news.

'And did you?' Rosie said, asking the question no one else seemed
willing to.

'Look, I pushed her a couple of times. Bitch always went me first.'

Charming
, Rosie thought to herself.
Could this guy be more repulsive?
'Were any charges ever laid?' she asked.

'Yeah, but she retracted them later. Bitch knew they'd never
stick.'

'Okay, Richard, where do we stand here?' she said, turning to the
head of the network's legal department. 'Is there any way we can get
an injunction against
Around Australia
to stop them broadcasting?'

'I doubt it,' Richard Barker replied. 'We'd never get it cleared
through the court in time. I could scare them enough to stop them
broadcasting anything that could be defamatory, though. They'd be
cautious about having to compensate after the fact.'

'Scaring sounds good,' Rosie said.

'It's not exactly proper practice, however,' Richard continued, 'and
we'd be setting ourselves up to have them do the same at will.'

'Simon?' Rosie asked, turning to her nemesis.

'Go do it now, Richard. Get them frightened,' Nash said, ignoring
Rosie and turning instead to directly address the legal head.

'I'll do my best,' Richard Barker answered, glancing at Hunt
critically as he left the room.

Once again there was silence until Rosie spoke up. 'Allan, I think
we need to get
Up To Date
to run a spoiler, maybe exploit the scorned
woman hell-bent on revenge angle,' she said. 'Perhaps we should
suggest that the former Mrs Hunt is not having the easiest time
adjusting to her ex's new marriage and subsequent pregnancy.'

'Done,' he replied, turning to Hunt. 'Are you going to be able to
pull this off for me though, Hunt? I need you to go out there and
say you love and respect your ex wife and hope she finds the help she
needs. You fuck this up and we're both cactus.'

'Sure I can,' Hunt replied smugly. 'I'll need a script though.'

Even Simon Nash rolled his eyes at that one.

'Fine,' Rosie said. 'I'll have something for you in ten.'

'All right, we have tonight covered but what are we going to do to
repair this going forward?' Nash asked.

'I'm calling in some big favours, that's what,' Rosie told him. 'Now,
if you don't mind, I have some grovelling to do.'

As she got up to leave the room, Nash piped up again: 'Don't blow
things, Rose,' he said. 'You're running out of second chances.'

'Oh, thanks for your support, Simon,' she replied. 'As always you've
been such a great help.'

Back in her own office Rosie slammed the door, cursing Nash
under her breath like some schizophrenic bag lady at Central Station.
On her desk was another long list of messages. Three were from her
mother, of course, and there was yet another from Lou asking her
to call ASAP. There was also a handwritten post-it on her computer
screen from Portia, saying she didn't feel well and had gone home.
Hell, I never found out what had her so upset.
All of it would have to
wait yet again.

The sun was disappearing over the peaceful suburban landscape
that mocked her from her office window. That life could carry on
normally for others in the vicinity of such chaos seemed cruel, unfair
and ironic. In the old days, sunset had meant the end of work and
the beginning of her home life. These days, the beauty of the fading
light only reminded her that she wasn't with her son where she was
supposed to be, tying that guilt knot in her stomach a tad tighter.

Rather than ruminate on what she wasn't doing, Rosie focused
on what had to be done. Her first call was to the editor of
Australian
Woman
which, luckily for Rosie, was partly owned by Tang.Inc and
was thus obliged to run positive Channel Six stories. The editor would
be resentful, of course; the only time the network gave her anything
in return was when they had TV crews tag along on the magazine's
swimwear fashion shoots. They used the resulting footage as filler on
Up To Date
– blatant pervs disguised as news stories – and called it
'cross promotion'.

By the time the call was over, Rosie had the editor's word that
Graham Hunt and his pregnant wife would feature on their next
cover, along with a question-and-answer interview with copy
approval. Rosie hated having to ask for final approval on stories.
Having been a journalist herself she knew that only meant censorship
and interference. However, as all the Hollywood stars these days
demanded it – you simply couldn't get a cover photo released without
a publicist sanctioning the accompanying story – at least the editors
were used to such annoyances.

The editor of
Australian Woman
was a great girl who was used
to trade-offs disguised as stories, but that didn't stop Rosie from
being aware that she would now owe a big favour in kind. Hopefully
Alicia's drama would have someone with a nice story she could offer
the magazine as an exclusive. Rosie then recalled her conversation
with Portia about the lesbian lead and shuddered at the thought of
what Alicia was cooking up.

She then sent Hunt an email cc'd to Allan Bales and Simon Nash,
telling him that from the next day on he would be wearing a pink
ribbon on air. He was also to find a story within his past that he
could exploit – breast cancer sufferer would be ideal – as he needed
to show his sympathetic side to the public. As he didn't actually have
one, she realised she would have to create it for him.

I really am going to hell
, Rosie thought as she mentally flagellated
herself yet again.

Before she sent the email, she added a PS at the bottom, telling
Hunt it was time to open up his home (
Oz Interiors
would love it) and
that he was to take his dog to work with him starting from now.

'Wind the windows down when you get near the gatehouse!' the
email read. 'I'll ensure a photographer will be there waiting. Do not
say a word – I can't stress that enough – but do wave.'

Rosie knew every paper would be after a fresh shot of Hunt the
next day and a pic of Mr News with his dog in tow like a regular
every-bloke would appeal to the nation's pet lovers at least. Finally,
she drafted the speech for Hunt to read on
Up To Date
and again
cc'd it to Bales and Nash with a red flag to signify the email was
urgent. Rosie was amazed how little time it took her to bash it out
and how easily the lies flowed from her fingertips.

I have just turned a wife-bashing bastard into a good bloke. I am not
only going to hell, I'm already through the gates and feeling the burn.