There was nothing interesting in the mail, and after a snack, they both showered and went to bed, and got up early the next morning.
They chatted on the way to work, and Maddy left Jack in the lobby, and went upstairs to her office. She was anxious to see Greg and tell him about the trip, and she was surprised when she didn't see him in his office. She went on to her own, and read all her messages and mail, and as usual, there was a stack of fan mail. At ten o'clock, when she still hadn't seen Greg, she got worried. She went out to her secretary and asked her if Greg was sick, and Debbie looked at her, and was obviously feeling awkward.
“I … uh … he … I guess no one told you,” she said finally.
“Told me what?” Maddy said with a look of panic. “Did something happen to him?” Maybe he had an accident, and no one had wanted to upset her while she was away.
“He left,” she said bluntly.
“For where?” Maddy didn't understand what she was saying.
“He doesn't work here anymore, Mrs. Hunter. I thought someone would have told you. Your new co-anchor starts on Monday. I think you're on alone. Greg left the day after you went on vacation.”
“He what?” She couldn't believe what she was hearing. “Did he have an argument with someone and walk off the set?”
“I don't know the details,” she lied, but she didn't want to be the one to tell her. And the words weren't out of her mouth before Maddy was flying down the hall to the producer's office.
“What in hell happened to Greg?” she asked, as the producer looked up at her. Rafe Thompson was a tall, tired-looking man who looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and at times he did.
“He's gone” was all he answered.
“I know that much. Where? And when? And why? I want answers to those questions,” she asked, as her eyes blazed.
“There was a change in format on the show. He didn't fit in. I think he's going to be doing sports on NBC now. I don't know the details.”
“Bullshit. That's what Debbie told me. Who does know the details?” But she already knew the answer to her question, and she went up to Jack's office without waiting another minute. She walked right into his office without being announced, and looked at him from across his desk. He had just put down the phone and his desk was covered with papers, the price to pay for a two-week vacation. “Did you fire Greg?” she asked without preamble, and he looked at her for a long moment.
“We made an executive decision,” he said calmly.
“What does that mean, and why didn't you tell me when we were in Europe?” She felt as though she'd been tricked.
“I didn't want to upset you, Mad. I thought you deserved a real vacation.”
“I had a right to know that you fired my co-anchor.” It explained the four messages on her machine the night before, and the tone of Greg's voice. She realized now that he had sounded upset, and it was no wonder. “Why did you fire him? He's terrific. And so were his ratings.”
“We didn't think so,” Jack said smoothly. “He's not as good as you are, sweetheart. We needed someone stronger as a balance to you.”
“What do you mean ‘stronger’?” She didn't understand what he was saying, and she was upset about the decision and the way it had been handled.
“He's too soft, too effeminate, you run right over him, and you're a lot more professional than he is. I'm sorry. You need someone with a little more personality and a lot more experience.”
“So who did you hire?” she asked, looking worried. She was still upset about Greg, she had loved working with him, and he was her closest friend.
“Brad Newbury. I don't know if you remember him. He used to do news from the Middle East on CNN. He's terrific. I think you're going to love working with him,” Jack said firmly.
“Brad Newbury?” Maddy looked stunned. “He can't even make a war zone sound exciting. Whose idea was that?”
“It was a collective decision. He's a pro, and a seasoned reporter. We think he's the perfect counterpoint to you.” Maddy hated his style, and had never liked him. And the few times they'd met he'd been arrogant and condescending to her.
“He's dry and he's dull, and he has no appeal on the air,” she said, looking frantic. “For God's sake, he's going to put everyone to sleep. He even made the trouble in the Middle East sound boring.”
“He's a very skilled reporter.”
“And so is Greg. Our ratings had never been higher.”
“Your ratings had never been higher, Mad. His were starting to slip. I didn't want to worry you, but he would have taken you down with him.”
“I just don't understand it,” she said, “and I don't know why you didn't tell me.”
“Because I didn't want to upset you. This is business, Maddy. Show business. We have to keep our eye on the ball here.” But she was still depressed about it when she got back to her office and called Greg.
“I can't believe this, Greg. No one told me. I thought you were sick or something when you didn't come in by ten o'clock. What the hell happened after I left? Did you piss someone off?”
“Not that I know of,” he said, still sounding devastated. He had loved working with her, and they both knew their show was a hit. But he understood more about it than she did. “The morning after you left, Tom Helmsley,” who was the executive producer of the show, “called me in and told me they were letting me go, firing me, to be exact. He said we had gotten too informal, too close, and we were beginning to remind senior management of Abbott and Costello.”
“Now where the hell did that come from? When was the last time we made a joke on the show?”
“Not lately, but I think the key word is close here. I think someone feels we were too personal, too close. Hell, Maddy, you're my best friend. I think someone in your life doesn't like that.” He didn't want to spell it out for her, but he might as well have.
“You mean Jack? Greg, that's crazy.” She couldn't believe that. That was no reason to fire him, and Jack would never have jeopardized the ratings of the show for personal reasons. But Brad Newbury was certainly an odd choice. She wondered if Greg meant that Jack was jealous of him, but she didn't think so.
“It may sound crazy to you, Mad. But it's called isolation. Have you ever thought of that? How many friends do you have? How often does he let you see anyone? He had no choice with me, we work together. But he took care of that, didn't he? Think about it.”
“Why would he want to isolate me?” She sounded confused, and Greg wondered how much he should say to her. He had noticed it for a long time, but obviously she hadn't, and he assumed that she was in denial about it.
“He wants to isolate you, Mad, because he wants to control you. He runs your life, makes all your decisions for you, he never consults you about the show. He doesn't even tell you till the night before you leave for Europe. He treats you like a paper doll, for chrissake, and when he doesn't like what you do, he tells you that you came from poor white trash, and tells you you'd be back in a trailer park without him. How often has he told you that without him, you'd be nothing? Do you know what kind of bullshit that is? Without you, he'd have the lowest-rated news show on any network. If you ever left WBT, you'd be snapped up by any major network you wanted. Now what does all that sound like to you, Mad? A loving husband, or something much more familiar?” She had never let herself string it all together before, but listening to him, she was suddenly terrified. What if he did want to isolate her? And suddenly she remembered all the times he had said to her recently that he “owned” her. It made her shudder to think about it.