right?” Hutch laughed again just thinking about it. “Oh, man. . .”
Annie ground her teeth. “There’s no way they’re—”
“Have Carlos do it. Those rubes will see that big Puerto Rican coming at them and they’ll sign anything he’s got. Tell him I’ll double today’s per diem if he can pull it off.”
Annie, surprisingly, unforgivably, found herself wanting to cry. But maybe it was this hardscrabble Midwestern backdrop—the simple, determined Middle American ethos bred into her whether she cared to admit it or not—that inspired her instead to dig in.
“Hutch, I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“The Casey thing, the tweak-a-hick thing. You have to find something else for me.”
Hutch squirmed a bit. But he made sure he sounded offended.
“I made you a VP. I didn’t have to do that, Annie.”
“Hutch,” she began. Right on the spot, right in the middle of a mucky cow pasture twelve light years away from where she belonged, she summoned up the silky coo of a beautiful young woman who would ordinarily get her way simply based on that, but who—is it right that one should be so blessed?— also possessed blackmail material. “You know I deserve more than this.”
He thought she might, or at least that’s what the lawyer had said. Back when she started to make noises, right after she said she wouldn’t sleep with him anymore, Hutch had consulted one of the company attorneys, just to determine what his exposure was.
The lawyer had concerns. All it would take is one person from that meeting who recalled Annie leaning in to help her boss after his arrr-arrr-arrrrrr manifesto went down in flames to suddenly call into question Hutch’s authorship of the celebrated R 2 Rev logo. That initial sketch had been framed and put on display in the lobby of the net’s suite of offices. It wouldn’t take an expert to determine that Hutch hadn’t drawn it.
The inevitable protests by feminist groups over the net’s scabrous content had been picking up potency since R 2 Rev first went on the air. Wait until they heard that a man had stolen its ubiquitous logo from a subordinate young woman he was sleeping with.
“Don’t offer her the world,” the lawyer had said. “Determine the lowest possible threshold for her happiness—and give her a little less. When she becomes dissatisfied with that, upgrade her to ‘happy.’ By the time she’s dissatisfied with that, a cushion of deniability will have been established. Her contract will be up and she won’t be your problem anymore.”
“I just want you to be happy, Annie,” Hutch spun into the phone. It made him feel good, saying nice words.
She smiled, ready to cry again, but from a different place. “It’s just that. . . I’m out here on the road, and I like it. I think I can do good work from here. But there has to be something more important I can bring to the net. You know? There are stories out here that maybe aren’t—”
“Annie, look,” Hutch interrupted. If he could keep cutting her off mid-vision, he could string this along for months. “You need to sit down with yourself and really figure out what it is you want to do. When you’ve got it, when you can articulate it, my door is open to you, any time, any place. You bring me something that resonates with the R 2 Rev philosophy, and I’ll make it happen. We’ll make it happen.”
“Okay,” she smiled softly, now contented and hopeful. “Thank you, Hutch.”
“But you might have to sleep with me again,” Hutch thought.
“Thank you , Annie,” he said. “And get me those releases.”
He hopped off.
Annie slipped the phone into her pocket, a whole new world awaiting her. She fought every urge to look skyward, feeling almost as if a helicopter would descend within the instant to whisk her away to a better place. She’d just leave Casey and the crew there to figure out who to assault next.
She sidled over to her boys, sad at the notion of leaving
Annie ground her teeth. “There’s no way they’re—”
“Have Carlos do it. Those rubes will see that big Puerto Rican coming at them and they’ll sign anything he’s got. Tell him I’ll double today’s per diem if he can pull it off.”
Annie, surprisingly, unforgivably, found herself wanting to cry. But maybe it was this hardscrabble Midwestern backdrop—the simple, determined Middle American ethos bred into her whether she cared to admit it or not—that inspired her instead to dig in.
“Hutch, I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“The Casey thing, the tweak-a-hick thing. You have to find something else for me.”
Hutch squirmed a bit. But he made sure he sounded offended.
“I made you a VP. I didn’t have to do that, Annie.”
“Hutch,” she began. Right on the spot, right in the middle of a mucky cow pasture twelve light years away from where she belonged, she summoned up the silky coo of a beautiful young woman who would ordinarily get her way simply based on that, but who—is it right that one should be so blessed?— also possessed blackmail material. “You know I deserve more than this.”
He thought she might, or at least that’s what the lawyer had said. Back when she started to make noises, right after she said she wouldn’t sleep with him anymore, Hutch had consulted one of the company attorneys, just to determine what his exposure was.
The lawyer had concerns. All it would take is one person from that meeting who recalled Annie leaning in to help her boss after his arrr-arrr-arrrrrr manifesto went down in flames to suddenly call into question Hutch’s authorship of the celebrated R 2 Rev logo. That initial sketch had been framed and put on display in the lobby of the net’s suite of offices. It wouldn’t take an expert to determine that Hutch hadn’t drawn it.
The inevitable protests by feminist groups over the net’s scabrous content had been picking up potency since R 2 Rev first went on the air. Wait until they heard that a man had stolen its ubiquitous logo from a subordinate young woman he was sleeping with.
“Don’t offer her the world,” the lawyer had said. “Determine the lowest possible threshold for her happiness—and give her a little less. When she becomes dissatisfied with that, upgrade her to ‘happy.’ By the time she’s dissatisfied with that, a cushion of deniability will have been established. Her contract will be up and she won’t be your problem anymore.”
“I just want you to be happy, Annie,” Hutch spun into the phone. It made him feel good, saying nice words.
She smiled, ready to cry again, but from a different place. “It’s just that. . . I’m out here on the road, and I like it. I think I can do good work from here. But there has to be something more important I can bring to the net. You know? There are stories out here that maybe aren’t—”
“Annie, look,” Hutch interrupted. If he could keep cutting her off mid-vision, he could string this along for months. “You need to sit down with yourself and really figure out what it is you want to do. When you’ve got it, when you can articulate it, my door is open to you, any time, any place. You bring me something that resonates with the R 2 Rev philosophy, and I’ll make it happen. We’ll make it happen.”
“Okay,” she smiled softly, now contented and hopeful. “Thank you, Hutch.”
“But you might have to sleep with me again,” Hutch thought.
“Thank you , Annie,” he said. “And get me those releases.”
He hopped off.
Annie slipped the phone into her pocket, a whole new world awaiting her. She fought every urge to look skyward, feeling almost as if a helicopter would descend within the instant to whisk her away to a better place. She’d just leave Casey and the crew there to figure out who to assault next.
She sidled over to her boys, sad at the notion of leaving
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