earpiece system to talk to her and the other on-air staff. Marv just barked, a one-note dog; Kanter almost always remained collected; and Nicci said only what was necessary. During the morning meeting, the earpiece allowed Nicci to dart away to monitor weather news and relay anything important to Jenna.
Marv’s big announcement was that they’d landed presidential candidate Roger Lilton as the show’s first featured interview. “He’s going to talk about his relationship with that GreenSpirit witch and his campaign manager told me a few minutes ago that Lilton’s going to denounce her as a ‘freak.’ Quite a coup, folks.”
No kidding, Jenna thought. The only thing better would be to have GreenSpirit walk onto the set in the middle of Lilton’s interview.
While Marv briskly laid out the show’s flow, periodically verifying details with the weary overnight staff, Geoff and Kato passed through the room, the shepherd sniffing everywhere. Jenna patted him as he passed; he gave her a wag.
After the meeting, Jenna found Dafoe sitting on the couch in her office, texting. He looked up, consternation spelled out on his wrinkled brow.
“I can’t reach Forensia. We text all the time, even when I’m there. It’s a big farm, and it beats shouting. But it’s like she’s disappeared.”
“She’s there. She’s got to be. You said she’s incredibly reliable.”
“She is. Or was, till the other day. But she’s not responding, and I’m worried. It’s not just about her: Those cows have to be milked.” He put away his phone. “Sorry, I know you’ve got your show to think about. You doing okay?”
“Great.” Shorthand for nervous. She always felt nervous going on air, but more than usual this morning because Dafoe was there. Don’t start dwelling on that. “Guess who’s going to be on the show?” He raised his eyebrow. “Lilton. To denounce GreenSpirit.”
“Forensia’s going to be heartbroken. She actually sent him money.”
“If he’s going to have a prayer of winning, he’s got to cut his losses,” Jenna said, which was more generous than she felt: She hadn’t gotten over Lilton’s “dog-and-pony show” comment about the task force.
“I guess nobody loses with honor anymore.”
“Not when you’re within striking distance.”
“So how’s the weather doing?”
“Oh, that,” she joked. “Big thunderstorms. Wait. Hold on.” Nicci’s voice had come alive in her ear. “You hear what’s going on outside?” her producer asked. Jenna paused, nodded to herself: the proverbial bricks tumbling in the sky, getting ready to stone the city.
Seconds later Nicci flew through the doorway. Before she could say a word, Jenna blurted out, “Do they want me on the roof?” She hated going up there. The only time Marv ever wanted her by the roof cam was in a storm. She strongly suspected that he found her instant transformation from staid perfection to total dishevelment—hair flying, hem, too—to be a ratings booster. One of these days, Jenna worried that a powerful gust would pluck her up and throw her down sixty stories, into the maw of Manhattan. Dying with her dainties on full display. And she’d be hard to miss in these red shoes—to highlight the red note in her dress. The guy in wardrobe loved to dress her; Jenna was his Barbie and her outfits were carefully color-coordinated.
“No, not the roof. Even Marv doesn’t want you zapped live.”
“I’m not sure of that.”
Nicci leaned over Jenna’s shoulder and clicked on the camera icon on her computer. Big thunderheads, but still on the horizon. “Time to go. They want you on set. And you, Helipad,” Nicci waved Dafoe up from the couch, “come with us. I’ll park you by Zack.” Head of set security.
Nicci, you’re so trusting, Jenna thought as she followed her producer. Dafoe trailed them down the hall.
Andrea Hanson was already ensconced on the main set, where she would spend the first hour of the broadcast. The chestnut-haired anchor deemphasized her pregnancy as much as she could in autumn’s darker hues. Her face, a little fuller than it had been a few months ago, beamed as beautifully as ever. She had ideal features for morning television: not too sharp, not too bland. Easy on the eyes, in short. For the second hour—the lighter half of the show—Andrea would migrate downstairs to the public studio, where audiences smiled and waved for the cameras through the seven-inch-thick security glass.
Theme music thumped throughout the studio and Jenna watched Andrea come alive, giving the camera her most engaging smile. In minutes, Jenna was chortling with the host. Jenna kept it light, airy as an orchard, before turning to