what she experienced when seeing the illusionist.
She was tempted to take Marcy up on her offer, but she resisted. When she answered, she kept her voice even, refusing to allow her emotions to show. “I can’t believe you’ve fallen under that guy’s spell.”
“Everyone has. I thought for sure you would too, but–”
Caitlyn interrupted her. She didn’t want to open a conversation concerning Shay Evers. “Thanks for the invitation, but no. If Kramer doesn’t do what I know he will, I want to go home and relax in a hot bubble bath. Given a choice between Shay Evers and suds, I’ll take the suds.”
Without meaning to, she mentally compared her tub filled with warm water and brimming with bubbles to meeting and speaking to the superstar. An image of Evers reclining in the tub appeared in her mind, his dark hair shining in candlelight, a lean hand raised, beckoning her to join him. She straightened, fighting the sudden heat pumping through her veins. “Listen, I hate to cut you short, but Kramer doesn’t like waiting.”
“Oh, sure thing,” her friend said. “Call me in the morning so I can fill you in.”
Caitlyn agreed with a laugh and placed the receiver on its cradle. No use putting it off any longer. She needed to accept the fact that after she left Kramer’s office she would probably have to start job hunting. After a deep breath she stood, locked her purse in her desk and tugged at the hem of her business suit jacket.
With her chin up, she headed for Kramer’s office. The labyrinth of the newsroom outside her cubicle stretched in front of her. Desks and hinged partitions sectioned the area for the reporters and other employees. The huge room, flanked on one side with windows, smelled of burnt lint from the heating unit. The unit didn’t do a great job keeping the chill out, but the sheer number of the bustling news people kept the temperature bearable. When she reached the far end and came to a short hallway, she slowed. Kramer’s office was the second door to the left.
For a moment she considered how she would respond if he laid her off. Not good. She gritted her teeth as pride forced her forward. Her knock landed harder than she intended, stinging her knuckles.
She’d worked relentlessly on her college degree in mass communications just to become a reporter. She wasn’t going to exit this job with meek submission. Her inner strength had sustained her through the time social workers removed her from her parents’ house and placed her in several foster homes. She’d been bounced around, but she’d never allowed the fear of the unknown to show.
Even at this moment, her fear remained hidden. She wasn’t about to let Kramer see any weakness in her now. She swiped her damp palms over the sides of her jacket, hoping he wanted to compliment her and not lay her off.
The low response through the door tightened her nerves. The knob twisted under her palm, and she pushed the door open. When she crossed the room, the burnt smell from the furnace heating the building sharpened in the enclosed space. Her eyes burned. Afternoon sunlight poured from the windows behind the manager’s desk and filled the office. She stared for a second at the shiny spot on top of Mike Kramer’s bald head, amazed at the slickness of the surface.
“Reiley. Take a seat.”
Caitlyn tried not to stare but after not seeing her boss for a few days, she had forgotten his size. The middle-aged manager’s abdomen ballooned from an excessive habit of fast food and more than a few beers. The buttons on his white shirt strained for freedom. With him sitting forward, his belly nearly flowed over the edge of the desk. He filled his chair like a packed sardine.
For several moments, a calculating expression covered his ruddy face. The dark moustache over his upper lip twitched as he stared at a yellow tablet centered in front of him, his right fingers sliding back and forth along the paper’s edge.
She took another deep breath, mentally preparing her rebuttal should her job be threatened. With her back straight, she moved to one of the two chairs angled in front of the desk.
After she was settled on the edge of the leather chair, she glanced up and found Kramer still sat unmoving. Silence filled the room for several minutes. The faster the seconds flew by, the tighter her insides coiled. He had asked to speak to her. Now that she was here, he sat daydreaming.
She covered her mouth and forced a little cough.
Sharp gray eyes focused on her. “Oh, Caitlyn. Sorry, I still can’t believe this,” he muttered. “The sponsors will go nuts for a time slot.”
“Believe what?” She relaxed enough to scoot back in the chair and cross her legs.
“I received a phone call.”
When he didn’t continue, she leaned forward and studied him. His coloring seemed paler than normal. Two months ago, shortly after the station opened, he’d suffered a series of light heart attacks.
“Kramer, are you okay? Do you want me to call someone?” She half rose to go to the phone, but he motioned her to sit.
“No, no, I’m fine. Do you know Lance Parker?”
“The big-name agent?” Settling once more, she frowned. Everyone in Hollywood knew the name. He represented the best performers in film, stage and music. He even represented Shay Evers.
“What about him? Did he die?” She didn’t understand what Parker had to do with Kramer wanting to see her.
“No, he called me.” His gaze dropped to the tablet in front of him. “He wants you.”
Chapter 3
Caitlyn stared, her mind turning and twisting the words. Every path they traveled failed to reveal a reason why Parker would want her. When she spoke, she tried to keep her tone even and under control. “Excuse me?” The high pitch in her voice as she answered clearly told her she’d failed.
Kramer’s head jerked toward her, and he frowned. “Not you, personally. Seems Shay Evers is his client. Evers saw your piece on money-saving coupons and liked it. He wants you to interview him.”
A gasp escaped her Caitlyn leaned forward, mouth open, staring hard at her boss. “He saw what?”
With a shake of his head, Kramer snorted. “You know where you interviewed…”
She waved a hand back and forth to stop him, and then grimaced. When had Evers watched that segment? The piece wasn’t a fine example of her work. Her racing thoughts came to a slow stop. Doubt raised its ugly head. Winning the lotto seemed more possible than what Kramer had just told her. Every top name reporter sought a coveted interview with the illusionist, yet none had succeeded.
Now Kramer expected her to believe Evers’s agent had requested she do the segment? She never dreamed her boss was capable of playing such a horrible trick on her.
Her temper flared, causing heat to rise to her face. “Is this a joke?”
“No joke.” Kramer pushed away from the desk and stood. He picked up the notepad, moved to her side and handed the tablet to her. She focused on the top page.
Stubby finger pointing at the writing on the page, he explained, “You were the one chosen over every reporter in the world to do the interview. Everything’s set. You leave in the morning in one of his private jets to go to his home in Wales. I’ve decided to send Blake with you to oversee the filming. You two work well together.”
“You’re serious.” Surprise returned, battled with her temper and won.
“Dead.”
“I can’t believe it. Do you realize what this means to my career?” She smiled as the realization struck her, and she gazed at the words written on the paper. There, in Kramer’s bold script, was the charismatic performer’s name, then a double slash followed by her name. When she glanced up at Kramer, a glint from the window caught her attention. She shifted her head to the right.
Through the glass, a billboard attached to the side of a building