Twenty Years Later(10)
“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.
“I’d like to formally welcome everyone to this magnificent evening. We have all gathered here to celebrate our collective success as the cable news leader for the eleventh straight year. None of us alone are responsible for such a splendid accomplishment, and none of us alone can take credit. It was, and will continue to be, a group effort.”
He raised his glass. “To past accomplishments and future success.”
Everyone joined him.
“Cheers!”
Avery reached for the champagne flute in front of her, raised it quickly, and then took a long swallow, breaking her one-drink rule. Her strategy had already gone to hell. What was the point of staying sober?
CHAPTER 5
Coronado, CA Tuesday, June 15, 2021
“SEVEN-FIFTY A YEAR, FOR FOUR YEARS. THAT’S THE NEW OFFER. IT includes a fifth-year option based on ratings during the final year of the contract. Incentives for reaching benchmarks in certain demos will be included as year-end bonuses.”
“Seven-fifty?” Avery asked. “That’s what they came back with? It’s still low, Dwight.”
“They came up from six-fifty, Avery. Three million over four years is a solid offer,” Dwight Corey said. “As your agent, I strongly advise that you take the money and run.”
It was a comfortable seventy-two degrees in Coronado, California, where the infamous Navy SEAL obstacle course was located. The track stood in all its glory in front of them. Avery had kept in touch with the SEAL who consulted on the minivan episode and, after hearing about the rigors of the SEAL program, Avery hatched the idea of giving her audience a front row look at the life of a Navy SEAL, from recruitment to Hell Week to the six-month BUDs training program. Others had produced similar exposés, but Avery had ideas about how she could put a different spin on hers. She would attempt to complete some of the benchmarks the highly trained warriors were required to overcome before they were christened as members of the elite Special Forces group. She would jump into a pool with her arms bound behind her back and try to survive for sixty minutes, as every SEAL had done. She would brave the icy ocean waters and take the notorious night swim with the sharks. The Navy SEAL obstacle course was considered one of the hardest in the world, and Avery thought it was a good place to start.
Avery had worked her contact and arranged this morning’s abbreviated test run through the course. Waivers were signed and confidentiality papers drawn up. If she managed to get the concept green-lighted, sometime during the next season of American Events, Avery would attempt to run the entire course, or as much of it as was physically possible, while cameras rolled. She would wear combat boots and fatigues if she ever reached that point, but for today’s practice run Avery wore sport shorts and a spandex athletic tank top, short ankle socks and Nike running shoes. Her agent, on the other hand, was impeccably dressed in a beige Armani suit with the coat open but his vest buttoned and his tie tight at his neck. The morning sun glistened the beads of perspiration on his forehead and reflected off his aviator sunglasses.
“What are you, Dwight? Six-five, two-twenty?”
“Six-six, two-forty.”
“I’m five-ten and . . . well, considerably less than that. Take that snazzy suit off and run this track with me.”
“Not a chance. We need to figure out your contract before they pull the offer.”