Free KW 09:Shot on Location by Laurence Shames Page A

the reply. “And flat today is down tomorrow. We don’t a need a cuddly little human interest segment, we need some real heat.”
    The first suit still liked his own idea. “Can we get a crew into the hospital? That’d be great! You see this woman, the I.V. stuff, maybe in traction, some bandages on her head, you realize,
Wow, people risk their lives to make this show …”
    “What people?” said Jacqueline. “Who’s risking their life? That’s what we need to be asking. If it’s just some acrobat that no one’s ever heard of who gets dinged up on the job, that’s not much of a story.”
    “She’s not an acrobat,” said Claire. “She’s a good actress who does stunts. And she’s not
dinged up
. She almost died.”
    “But she didn’t,” said the publicist. “Amen. So can we please get back to what we’re doing here?”
    There was a somewhat frosty pause.
    Finally, Quentin Dole spoke up. His lean face looked very bony on the computer screen and his glasses were halfway between light and dark, somewhat iridescent. He said, “I like what I’m hearing from Jacqueline, but please let’s back up a step. Let’s think about some context. Not so much what happened, but how it happened, why it happened. What was Donna doing when the accident occurred?”
    No one wanted to risk a wrong answer and for a moment no one spoke. Then one of the suits ventured, “Swimming?”
    “Very good,” said Quentin wiltingly. “That would be the activity most often associated with getting run over by a boat. But I don’t think that’s the part that matters here. What matters is the role she was playing. She was doubling for Candace.”
    Claire said, “Now wait a second —”
    Quentin didn’t. “She was dressed like Candace. She had the wig on. She was continuing a scene that Candace had started —”
    “Bingo,” said Jacqueline. “There’s our story.”
    “Bullshit,” said Claire. “That’s not our story. It’s nonsense. It’s a lie. It’s irresponsible.”
    “I like it,” said one of the suits.
    “It isn’t irresponsible,” Quentin said. “It’s just spin. Jacqueline’s right. What’s more interesting? A stunt girl has an accident, or maybe it wasn’t an accident and the victim was supposed to be our star?”
    “That’s the way to go,” said Jacqueline. “Definitely. It’ll be the lead on all the daytime programs, all the magazines.”
    “Quentin,” said Claire, “you can’t do this. This is not the fucking show. This is real. Someone got hurt.”
    Ignoring her, one of the suits said, “We just have to keep it a
what if
kind of thing. Nothing too specific. Otherwise we’ll never get it past Legal.”
    “Yeah, perfect,” said Jacqueline. “Just raise the possibility. Plant a seed. Leave it open-ended. Same way the show leaves things open-ended. Get that echo going.”
    Claire said, “This is sick.”
    One of the suits said, “This is great. The whole country’ll be talking about it. People who’ve never even seen the show will be talking about it.”
    Rob Stanton said, “Wait a second. Aren’t we forgetting something? Someone’s feelings?”
    The notion seemed to usher in a moment of abashed silence. People dropped each other’s eyes like hot pans. Then the director went on.
    “You okay with this, Candace? Concocting this rumor that maybe someone’s trying to kill you?”
    The star didn’t answer right away but chose to milk the scene. She pursed then licked her sensuous lips. She blinked her violet eyes and let them drift out of focus into some dreamy middle distance. She began to speak then stopped, as if the words were costing her too much. Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “Someone is.”
    For a moment no one breathed. The publicist silently put down the pen she’d been holding. The smeared faces on the computer screens were studies in bewilderment.
    Then, with a hack of a laugh, one of the suits said, “Isn’t she terrific? Look at that,