skirt. âWeâll soften your look a little or something. I promise heâs just around the corner. Let me just deal with the monster down the hall first.â
I grabbed a pen and paper and quick-stepped down the short hall to Murrayâs corner office.
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SELENA, A CURVACEOUS Colombian woman, and one of the only beings on the planet who didnât fear Murray Hillsinger, nodded me in with a roll of her big eyes and a pursing of her huge shiny lips lined in dark pencil. My boss was clearly not in a good mood. All I needed.
âI donât give a shit who he thinks he is,â Murray roared into his phone as I entered. He waved me to the straight-backed chair next to the black leather couch where he tended to hold court. I crossed and recrossed my legs while his tirade continued. His yellow tie dotted with little purple crowns didnât quite cover his belly, which protruded in a horizontal glob over his belt. âYou gotta say what I tell you to say publicly or youâre screwed. Plain and simple. I hate to state the obvious, but the cover-up is always worse than the crime, buddy. Just admit your mistake and move on. Otherwise youâre toast. Trust me, thatâs what youâre paying me for. Iâll get a good reporter to take your mea culpa. Someone important. I know: Iâll get Delsie Arceneaux to do it for you. Sound good? Sheâll be gentle.â
Arrayed on the coffee table was Bouley Bakeryâs freshest assortment of chocolate croissants and buttery Danish and muffins, delivered daily the minute Murray arrived. As he listened to the diminished soul on the other end of the line, he gestured toward the coffeepot for me to pour him a refill. I felt like a stewardess.
Murray suddenly threw the phone down the length of the couch, grabbed a giant blueberry crumb muffin, tore off the top, and bit a large section from it, spraying balls of sugar everywhere in the process. âIâm so happy Delsie is ready to emcee the Fulton Film Festival media lunch, and some panels. Itâs like some light went on for her after your pitch and sheâs excited. But now we gotta create even more buzz. Remember I got Max Rowland to invest in the festival, so heâll have his jail buddies break my kneecaps if we mess this up.â
âOkay,â I said and wrote more buzz on my notepad. Murray always liked people to take notes, no matter how simple his demands. He knew damn well the buzz we were going to find was already in the pipeline. The Fulton Film Festival was practically running itself.
âWhatever you have, Iâm not impressed, itâs not enough for Delsie or Maxââ
âMurray,â I interrupted. âWhy did you get that criminal Max Rowland to invest in a do-gooder festival like ours and put extra pressure on us to please him as well? Iâm managing so many projects I donât know if I have the time to . . .â My home situation was sapping so much energy out of me that I could barely listen to his commands, let alone execute them.
âBullshit. You got spunk and intelligence.â He counted these attributes on his fingers without releasing the raspberry pastry in his grip. âYou like to argue. Delsie likes that. I like that. I need to be told when Iâm off base.â
For the past ten years, Murray had never once listened to me when I told him he was off base. I put down my pen.
âSo what do you want me to do?â
âI want you to promise me everything will go okay with the festival.â
âFirst of all, as much as youâd like me to be, Murray, Iâm not your mommy. And second, why do I have to go it alone? Why canât you be more involved?â
âYou are to deal alone with Max on festival business; Iâm not doing it anymore. Have a pastry. Youâre too goddamned thin.â
Why was every man in my life acting like a little child who had to have everything the way he wanted just