Shafted by Mandasue Heller

get the name, by the way?’
    Shrugging, Larry said, ‘It’s a colour, isn’t it?’
    ‘In-di-go,’ Terri said, punctuating each syllable. When Larry still looked blank, she said, ‘In dey go – to prison. Get it?’
    ‘Ah . . .’ Larry drew his head back. ‘Very clever.’
    ‘Thought you’d like it,’ Terri said proudly. ‘And we’re calling the game show Gotcha! , by the way.’
    ‘Right,’ Larry murmured uncertainly. ‘And you don’t think that’s a bit obvious?’
    ‘Not at all,’ Terri replied, smiling coyly as she added, ‘Mind you, I’m bound to say that, considering it was my idea. But everyone else seems to like it, so I guess it must be okay. Anyway, come on . . . let me show you around.’
    Leading him to a door marked PRIVATE at the far end of the reception area now, Terri thanked Larry when he held it open for her, and wondered as she passed him – as she’d been doing since she’d first laid eyes on him – how one man could have been blessed with such an extraordinarily beautiful face. She’d worked with some of the most handsome men in the States during her time in TV, but none had been quite as stunning in the flesh as Larry was. She just prayed that his year away from the camera hadn’t dulled his on-screen magic or she’d have some serious explaining to do, having practically forced Jon to dismiss his own instincts in favour of hers.
    Smiling to himself, sure that Terri was thinking hot thoughts about him, Larry followed her into the heart of the old warehouse. Having expected it to be a cold, cavernous shell, littered with the remnants of old machinery and resonating with the echoes of a long-gone Victorian workforce, he was surprised to see how much work Shock-Wave had done to transform it into a credible-looking TV studio, complete with soundproofed walls and hush-foot flooring. A large stage-floor had been laid to the rear of the hall, and several set-builders were busy hoisting a glitzy backdrop into position as he watched. And rows of audience seating were being installed, the workers creating a cacophonous din with their hammers and screeching drills; while, overhead, metal clanked on metal as technicians moved huge banks of studio lights into position.
    Watching Larry raptly as the light of something indefinable began to shine in his eyes, Terri said, ‘Impressed?’
    ‘Very,’ he murmured, his heart singing a sweet song of joy at being back where he belonged – despite it not being real. ‘Seems a lot of expense for a one-off show, though. Hope the owners aren’t letting you foot the bill for the work and charging you rent?’
    ‘Actually, we got a very reasonable deal,’ Terri told him. ‘And we were already using it as our base for Cops ’n’ Bobbies , so it made sense to use it for Gotcha! as well. It’s cost more than we originally intended to convert it into a realistic-looking studio, of course, because we were only actually using it for editing and equipment storage before. But if we get a fantastic show out of it, I don’t think anyone’s going to complain about a few extra thousand.’ Smiling now, she gazed around with satisfaction. ‘Everything’s coming along fantastically so far, and Inspector Keeton’s been a huge help, because he knows your laws and regulations so much better than we do.’ Chuckling softly, she added, ‘I actually think he’s been bitten by the showbiz bug, because we can’t seem to keep him away from the place. He’s always offering help and making suggestions. Like the commercial – that was one of his.’
    ‘Commercial?’ Larry repeated, giving her a quizzical look.
    ‘Oh, sorry, did I forget to mention that?’ Terri gave him an I’m so ditzy smile. ‘Yeah, we’re planning a twenty-second ad to air at prime time for two weeks, running up to the actual day of filming, with a Freepost address for anyone who wants to apply to be a contestant. Bit of a shame for those who never hear back from us, I know,