“Nothing but your career and your starring gig on the number-one-rated show on this network.”
“Explain,” Harrow said, not at all confrontational.
Byrnes shook his head. “Can you really think there’s any reason I’m here other than to fire your ass?”
“You wouldn’t need to be here, if firing me was all you had in mind. Or anyway, you wouldn’t still be here.”
Byrnes had no response to that.
Harrow shrugged, rocking slightly in his chair. “Anyway, why would you fire me?... I may be a relative novice in this business, but I know enough to be sure of one thing — I just guaranteed to double your ratings in the fall.”
Byrnes sat forward, seething but in control. “You go on the air and commit my network to unknown, enormous expenses, you rewrite — off script and on air — the format of our top show, and you wonder why would I fire you? Do you think when word gets out any network would ever trust you in front of a camera again?”
“Maybe not a live camera,” Harrow said, with a puckishness unusual for the ex-cop. “Anyway, Dennis, I don’t think you’ll let the word get out. You know that I wouldn’t take as much blame for this as you would — for allowing it to happen. I’m not where the buck stops.”
“That sounds uncomfortably like extortion.”
“Dennis, much as I like you, I’m not much for taking lessons in morality and business ethics from television executives.”
“...Maybe there are circumstances where I’d consider putting you back on the air... but I’m not paying for some ‘superstar’ private forensics team or any other wild-eyed ideas...”
Harrow sat back again, shrugged. “You can take me off the air, Dennis, but I’ll have another network signing me up for a new show by end of workday tomorrow... on my terms, right down to the ‘superstar’ forensics team.”
Byrnes started a sigh somewhere around his toes, and finally it emerged. “Why didn’t you come to me with this idea?”
“And have you say no? And hold me to my contract? I do apologize for the tactics, but they were necessary. Your priority is the show — mine is finding my family’s killer. I believe I came up with a way that serves both our interests.”
Byrnes shook his head. “I can’t believe you would commercialize the murders of your own family...”
Harrow’s laugh was a bitter thing. “Give me a goddamn break, Dennis. You’ve been commercializing my family’s death since day one of this show. And I’ve been letting you do it, because it’s a relatively harmless means to an end that is everything to me.”
For the first time he could remember, Byrnes found himself in a room with someone he could not stare down, facing someone who wasn’t afraid of him. Like any jungle predator, Byrnes could smell fear and pounce. Only this time, the fear he sensed in this room was his own.
“You played me for a fool tonight,” Byrnes said.
Harrow shrugged. “I know, Dennis. And if that means you have to let me go, to save face, and let the chips fall wherever the hell, well then... no hard feelings. You’re doing what you have to do. Like I am.”
The star rose, and came around to extend his hand toward his seated boss. “Whatever you decide, I owe you for the platform you’ve provided me. Thank you.”
Stunned, Byrnes took the proffered hand, shook it, and said, “I’m not going to fire you, J.C.,” the words almost a surprise to himself as they came out. Without letting go of his star’s hand, he said, “But ever screw with me again, J.C., and I will end you in this business. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“I do have to say this, though.”
Harrow was returning to his chair as Byrnes said, “Do you have any idea what you’re proposing, how much a production like this would cost?”
“Actually, yes,” Harrow said. “That’s frankly part of why I sprang it on you the way I did. Dennis, it was an ambush — I make no pretense otherwise.”
Byrnes was unprepared for what happened next. Harrow handed him a fat spiral-bound document — a budget proposal.
The exec began flipping through the pages — the numbers were large, but actually less than he might have anticipated. Still, tomorrow the UBC board would be giving the exec the kind of bad time he’d just given Harrow.
After another endless sigh, Byrnes said, “All right, J.C. — we’ll do it your way. You’ll get your toys. I’ll even go to bat for you with the board. I’ll tell them you told me your plan ahead of time, and take the heat that should be yours.”
Harrow frowned, confused. “Why would you do that, Dennis?”
“Because I back my people. We’re a team. We’re a family... and I’m Daddy.”
He waved the budget at the host.
“But if this half-assed scheme fails, and ratings fall? It’s your ass, and your whole crew’s.”
Harrow’s mouth made the thinnest line of a smile. “Sounds like ‘Daddy’ is strict.”
“Daddy spanks, yes. And Daddy also has chores for you. We’ll do things your way, J.C., just as you’ve requested.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You do things your way, hire who you want within these budget parameters... but you will also be available for any and all publicity we deem necessary.”
Harrow’s face tightened. “You know I find that distasteful. My contract—”
“Screw your contract. This is another unpleasant means to an end that you’re going to have to put up with.”
“Any and all publicity,” Harrow said hollowly.
“Any and all — if this is going to work for both of us, I’ve got to be able to pump the ratings as much as possible.”
Harrow sat silently for several long seconds. Then he shrugged. “You’re right, Dennis.”
“All right, then.” Byrnes slapped his thighs. “If we’re going to do this, let’s make Crime Seen! a bigger hit than it is already.”
The exec rose and moved toward the door, and Harrow said, “There’s one more thing, Dennis.”
Turning back, the network president said, “Don’t you think you’ve been greedy enough?”
“Not a matter of greed,” Harrow said. “But I want a new segment host.”
“Why?”
“I need to reward the talented PA who found the clue that set this in motion.”
Byrnes smirked. “Funny, you want to reward him — I’d just as soon throttle him.”
“It’s a her,” Harrow said. “Carmen Garcia.”
The exec frowned. “Isn’t she Nicole’s mail girl?”
“Yes.”
Byrnes closed his eyes. “Brother — Nicole’s going to love that.”
“Why, Dennis, are you suddenly afraid of Nicole?”
“...I have to ask, J.C. — is this personal?”
Harrow looked at him blankly. “What?”
“Jesus, man. Don’t make me pull teeth — are you sleeping with her?”
His eyes narrow, Harrow said, “Christ, Dennis — she’s young enough to be my daughter.”
Shrugging, Byrnes said, “Which in Hollywood is a plus.”
Harrow shook his head glumly. “You’ve been out here too long. You think everybody is an amoral scumbag.”
“Hollywood gets to us all, J.C. Just tonight, for example, you screwed me over...”
Harrow had no response to that.
Byrnes threw up his hands. “All right. I’m tired. You win. I’m going home and see my wife and two daughters, who are just fine, thanks so much for asking. I’ll let Nicole know that you have a new segment host.”
“Thanks, Dennis.”
“You’re welcome, J.C.” He beamed at his star. “Screw me again, and you’ll find out just how amoral a scumbag I can be.”