and vicious securities fraud" and were forbidden from ever dealing in securities again. Because of his age, the prison sentence was reduced to a year's probation. E. V. had learned a valuable lesson: Dealing dishonestly was a foolish risk because a smart man with a talent for selling could safely make a lot more money honestly.
Although he remained known to the probation officer as E. V. Carvalho , with the sleight of hand a new social-security card provided, he became Everett Carver at the college where he registered and at the ad agency where he talked his way into a job. At the company's Christmas party, he met the daughter of one of the agency's partners and began dating her. Within weeks they eloped. The name "Everett Carver" went on his marriage certificate and eventually on his college diploma. He had transformed himself into a new man.
From media buyer for the ad agency, he went over to Sales at FBS's Chicago TV station, where he leveraged his high revenues into visibility that eventually led to his being named station manager and to his turnaround of the station. He tried to view the lateral transfer to KFSB-TV as a promotion because its shaky condition needed the best organization’s top manager to apply CPR. But it also meant that he had to prove himself once again.
After less than a month in Los Angeles, he decided that life there would offer more to him without the baggage of an unsophisticated wife who complained about his frequent late nights out.
"This city's a cocksman's candy store," he had marveled to a friend.
She eventually had to cave in to his terms: the support payments she needed in exchange for a divorce and an abortion.
Greg watched the first few minutes of the six-o'clock broadcast and then drove to the Beverly Hills Hotel. He asked a man at the front desk to phone Diane Roderick for him.
"I'm Diane Roderick," a woman's voice behind him called out.
Greg spun around to find an attractive young woman laden with bags and boxes. She had evidently just returned from shopping.
"Could you give me a hand?"
She handed him the boxes, barely glancing at him, and obtained her key from the front-desk attendant. Then she headed out of the lobby.
Taken aback, Greg regarded her departing figure for a moment, then shrugged and followed her into the garden behind the hotel. She was average-sized, he noted, her hair a chestnut-brown color worn shoulder length. From what he could tell from the rear, she had a well-proportioned figure and good legs. Her patterned dress was chic and highly styled. He tried to remember her face. Sleekly elegant, he recalled, the features well-formed. He thought he remembered her eyes as gray and her expression as faintly imperious. I wouldn’t expect less from the rich, he quipped to himself.
She unlocked the door to a bungalow set amid tropical flora and entered.
"Put them over there," she ordered, and pointed to a table on the side of the living room. Again before Greg could introduce himself, she disappeared into one of the bedrooms.
He deposited the packages and turned on the television set to watch his news broadcast. A few minutes later, when she emerged from the bedroom in a different dress, she appeared miffed to find him seated at the set.
"I'd have appreciated being asked before you decided to watch television," she remarked brusquely.
"I didn't see the need."
She stopped to look at him for the first time. "Have you worked at FBS long?"
"About a year and a half."
"They should have taught you better manners by now."
Her arrogance grated on him, but he spoke softly. "Look, Ms. Roderick, I didn't volunteer for this assignment."
"What's the phone number at KFBS?" she snapped, and reached for the telephone.
Greg told her.
She began dialing. "I'm going to lodge a complaint with your superior and have him send out someone else right away."
He was dumbfounded by her presumption. "You really believe that we all have nothing better to do than drive you
Although he remained known to the probation officer as E. V. Carvalho , with the sleight of hand a new social-security card provided, he became Everett Carver at the college where he registered and at the ad agency where he talked his way into a job. At the company's Christmas party, he met the daughter of one of the agency's partners and began dating her. Within weeks they eloped. The name "Everett Carver" went on his marriage certificate and eventually on his college diploma. He had transformed himself into a new man.
From media buyer for the ad agency, he went over to Sales at FBS's Chicago TV station, where he leveraged his high revenues into visibility that eventually led to his being named station manager and to his turnaround of the station. He tried to view the lateral transfer to KFSB-TV as a promotion because its shaky condition needed the best organization’s top manager to apply CPR. But it also meant that he had to prove himself once again.
After less than a month in Los Angeles, he decided that life there would offer more to him without the baggage of an unsophisticated wife who complained about his frequent late nights out.
"This city's a cocksman's candy store," he had marveled to a friend.
She eventually had to cave in to his terms: the support payments she needed in exchange for a divorce and an abortion.
Greg watched the first few minutes of the six-o'clock broadcast and then drove to the Beverly Hills Hotel. He asked a man at the front desk to phone Diane Roderick for him.
"I'm Diane Roderick," a woman's voice behind him called out.
Greg spun around to find an attractive young woman laden with bags and boxes. She had evidently just returned from shopping.
"Could you give me a hand?"
She handed him the boxes, barely glancing at him, and obtained her key from the front-desk attendant. Then she headed out of the lobby.
Taken aback, Greg regarded her departing figure for a moment, then shrugged and followed her into the garden behind the hotel. She was average-sized, he noted, her hair a chestnut-brown color worn shoulder length. From what he could tell from the rear, she had a well-proportioned figure and good legs. Her patterned dress was chic and highly styled. He tried to remember her face. Sleekly elegant, he recalled, the features well-formed. He thought he remembered her eyes as gray and her expression as faintly imperious. I wouldn’t expect less from the rich, he quipped to himself.
She unlocked the door to a bungalow set amid tropical flora and entered.
"Put them over there," she ordered, and pointed to a table on the side of the living room. Again before Greg could introduce himself, she disappeared into one of the bedrooms.
He deposited the packages and turned on the television set to watch his news broadcast. A few minutes later, when she emerged from the bedroom in a different dress, she appeared miffed to find him seated at the set.
"I'd have appreciated being asked before you decided to watch television," she remarked brusquely.
"I didn't see the need."
She stopped to look at him for the first time. "Have you worked at FBS long?"
"About a year and a half."
"They should have taught you better manners by now."
Her arrogance grated on him, but he spoke softly. "Look, Ms. Roderick, I didn't volunteer for this assignment."
"What's the phone number at KFBS?" she snapped, and reached for the telephone.
Greg told her.
She began dialing. "I'm going to lodge a complaint with your superior and have him send out someone else right away."
He was dumbfounded by her presumption. "You really believe that we all have nothing better to do than drive you
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