"So?"
"The Nightly News would be more exciting and faster paced if you included reports from correspondents in the field. That was my specialty, and I would be delighted to - "
"I was considering doing that. And I was thinking about hiring you, but you turned out to be a woman."
Her heart dropped a few inches lower. "I fail to see - "
"News is serious business. We can't have females doing it. People would miss something important, 'cause they were looking at your perky little br**sts."
Her shoulders slumped, taking her perky little br**sts with them. This was it - the impenetrable wall of male vampire chauvinism, and once more, she'd slammed right into it. If only she could take a sledgehammer to it. Or a baseball bat to Mr. Bacchus's egg-shaped head. "I could work behind the scenes. I used to write my own - "
"You can write?"
"Yes."
"Can you be entertaining?"
"Yes." Her reports had been considered humorous.
He studied her. "You strike me as somewhat intelligent."
Her eye twitched. "Thank you."
"We're flooded every night with the flashy ones who want to be in front of the camera. Finding someone with intelligence and experience to work behind the scenes is a major problem."
"I'm very good at solving problems."
"Are you? Then I'll tell you what I really need at DVN." He leaned forward. "I need a big hit."
With a baseball bat? "You mean a new show?"
"Yeah." Mr. Bacchus stood and wandered toward a dry-erase board on the wall. "Do you realize that since DVN has been on the air, our lineup of shows has never changed?"
"Everyone loves your shows. Especially the soap operas."
"It's boring! Look at this." He pointed at the board where DVN's schedule was displayed. "Every freaking night, it's the same thing. We start at eight o'clock with the Nightly News with Stone Cauffyn. Then, at eight-thirty, it's Live with the Undead, our celebrity gossip magazine."
"With Corky Courrant. I saw her a few weeks ago at the Gala Opening Ball."
Mr. Bacchus pivoted toward her, his eyes wide. "You were invited to the ball?"
"Yes. I... used to be associated with Roman Draganesti."
"How?"
"I worked part time at Romatech." She'd refused to take an allowance from Roman, so Gregori had arranged for her to work in a back room at Romatech a few nights a week. Roman had okayed it, as long as no mortal ever saw her.
"Draganesti is one of our top sponsors." Mr. Bacchus watched her, scratching his beard. "How well do you know him?"
A blush crept up to her cheeks. "I... lived in his house."
"Really? You were in his harem?"
"I - you could say that." But she never would.
"Hmm." Mr. Bacchus's heated gaze wandered over her body. Clearly, her non-writing abilities were being reassessed.
She lifted her chin. "You were describing the schedule?"
"Oh, yeah." He turned back to the board. "In the nine o'clock slot, we have As the Vampire Turns, starring Don Orlando de Corazon. Then at ten, we have All My Vampires, and at eleven, General Morgue. But what happens at midnight?" He jabbed a finger at the dry-erase board.
Darcy frowned. There was nothing there. What did
come on at midnight? By then, she was usually at Romatech, immersed to her ears in boring paperwork.
"Nothing!" Mr. Bacchus yelled. "We start over again and repeat the whole damned schedule. It's pathetic! The midnight hour should be our greatest show ever, the piece de resistance. But we have... nothing." He trudged back to his desk.
Darcy took a deep breath. This was her chance to show her true worth. "You need a new show, but not another soap opera."
"That's right." Mr. Bacchus paced behind his desk. "Maybe a cop show. A vampire cop. We could call it Blood and Disorder. That would be different. What do you think we should do?"
Gulp. She racked her brain. What had been the rage before her world had fallen apart? "How about a reality show?"
He whirled around to face her. "I like it! What could be more real than vampires? But what would be the premise?"
Her mind went completely blank. Damn. She sat in a chair and arranged her portfolio across her lap to buy herself some time. A reality show. What was real? The harem's new dilemma? "How about an expelled harem in need of a new master?"
"Not bad." Mr. Bacchus nodded. "Damned good, actually. Hey, wasn't Draganesti's harem just kicked out?"
"Yes. Corky did a feature about it on Live with the Undead." But none of the ladies had participated. It was too humiliating.
"You know, some of those harem ladies are famous. Could you get them to do the show?"
"I - I believe so."
"You know Draganesti really well, right?" Mr. Bacchus's mouth twisted with a knowing smirk. "Could you get him to rent us a big, fancy penthouse for the show? You know, one of those glitzy ones with a swimming pool on the roof."
"I - I suppose." Maybe Gregori could figure something out.
"It's gotta have a hot tub. Can't have a reality show without a hot tub."
"I understand."
"And you have experience in television?"
"Yes." Darcy glanced at the trash can that now held her neatly typed resume. "I graduated in television journalism at the University of Southern California and worked in that region for several years before moving to New York and a position at Local Four News - "
"Fine, fine." Mr. Bacchus waved a hand to shut her up. "Look, I want this reality show. If you can get us a fancy location and guarantee that Draganesti's old harem will participate, then you've got a job. Director."
Her heart lurched. Director of a reality show? Okay. She could handle this. She had to. It was this or nothing.
"So can you do it? Deliver the penthouse and the harem?"
"Yes." She clenched her portfolio with a white-knuckled grip. "I'd be delighted." God help her.
"And don't forget the hot tub."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
"Great! I'll have an office ready for you tomorrow night. What do you want to call the show?"
Her mind raced, searching for a pithy title. How to Dig Your Own Grave in Less than Five Minutes?
"Well, the women will be selecting the perfect man to be their new master."
Mr. Bacchus perched on the corner of his desk and scratched at his beard. "The Perfect Man? Or The Perfect Master?"
Not exciting enough. Darcy closed her eyes briefly to concentrate. Maggie would think Don Orlando was the perfect man. What had she called him? "How about The Sexiest Man on Earth?"
"Excellent!" Mr. Bacchus grinned. "And call me Sly. It's short for Sylvester."
"Thank you... Sly."
"This has gotta be a hit. Not just an ordinary show, but one with twists and surprises."
"Yes, of course."
"Auditions will be easy. As you can see in the lobby, there'll be lots of male Vamps trying out for the show."
Darcy winced. Somehow her idea of the world's sexiest man didn't include makeup. "Do they all have to be Vamps?"
Sly snorted. "We're talking about the sexiest men on earth. Of course they'll be Vamps." He strode toward the door.
Of course. Darcy stood, gritting her teeth. Everyone knew vampires were superior in every way. A sudden idea sparked in her head. Why not put Sly's claim to the test?
She smiled as she walked toward the door. So her boss wanted the show to include some surprising twists? No problem.
She would deliver a doozy.
Chapter 2
Austin arrived early for the Stake-Out meeting, so he would have time to download the photos he'd taken the night before at DVN. He opened the unmarked door on the sixth floor of a federal office building. Most of the floor was occupied with Homeland Security, so no one realized he was actually CIA. Or that he was combating terrorists of the undead variety.
The Stake-Out team met every evening at seven before the sun went down and they moved on to their individual assignments. As he passed Sean Whelan's office, loud curses filtered through the walls. Great. Sean must be watching the DVN stuff Austin had emailed to his office. Definitely a good time to avoid the boss.
Austin hurried to the open area where he and the other teammates had their work stations. He wasn't surprised to find the place empty. They were all exhausted. He hadn't had a day or night off in weeks. He downloaded the pictures, then studied them on his monitor while the photo printer kicked into action. Lots of license plates. And lots of her in the blue suit, whoever she was. He'd waited 'til dawn, but had missed seeing her again. Dammit. She must have left while he'd gone to relieve himself. The price of too much coffee.