“No,” agreed Jennifer. “I don’t like what you’re doing. On my show. From which I am fully entitled to remove you. If you, for example, carry on chasing a story I told you to drop.”
“Are you spying on me?”
“Nothing happens on my set I don’t know about.”
“I was talking to Doris because I’m interested.” And why was Audrey on the defensive all of a sudden? “I’m allowed to talk to the other contestants.”
“So you didn’t make any notes then?”
Audrey opened her mouth and shut it again. “I…it was…habit. And besides”—she tried to reverse the polarity of the argument—“I still did better than Linda.”
“Not in the edit you won’t.”
“You…” began Audrey explosively.
But Jennifer just sneered. “Iwhat, Lane?”
“You…”
“Interfering, micromanaging harridan with a god complex?” suggested Jennifer Hallet.
“Y-yes but also…”
“Performatively cynical foul-mouthed hack?”
“I mean—”
“Callous, belittling needlessly hostile she-demon?”
“Now you’re—”
“Bitch?” finished Jennifer. “I’ve heard it all before, sunshine.”
“And you don’t think”—Audrey’s arms unfolded themselves like they were on springs—“any of that feedback might have been leading you somewhere?”
“It led me to the conclusion that I don’t give a fuck what people think of me.”
“Clearly not.” Audrey’s anger was beginning to cool and congeal like gravy in yesterday’s pie. It was still there; just not as appealing as it used to be. Her whole body slumped. “But you didn’t have to do this.”
“I did. You were a walking conflict of interest.”
“I tried to apologise, Jennifer. And I really was going to drop the story.”
“It’s cute you believe that.”
“If you’d said no—”
“Were you not fucking listening? I did. Several times.”
Shit, they were back here again. And Audrey knew where that ended: with her saying things she didn’t want to say and being someone she didn’t want to be. “I just thought,” she said carefully, “that if I finished the story and you saw how good it was, you might change your mind. But I would never run it unless you said I could.”
An expression that Audrey couldn’t read—or perhaps didn’t dare to—crossed Jennifer’s face. “Just because something’s amazing,” she said, “doesn’t mean it’s what I need in my life.”
The evenings could be sharp in the summer. And it was probably just the chill that raised goose bumps on Audrey’s arms. “What are you—”
“Oh come on, Lane.”
Audrey’s anger gravy was getting reheated in the microwave. “You better not be implying that you wrote me off the show because you fancy me.”
