Free Falling Star by Diana Dempsey Page A

how carefully Geoff chose
his target, or how subtly he engaged him in conversation, he came
back devoid of serious interest in Natalie Daniels.
    It was going to be tougher than he'd thought
getting Natalie another anchor offer.
    Disgustedly Geoff shut down the computer
file. Though it was couched in news directorese, the lack of
interest always boiled down to the same two things. She was too
old. And too expensive. He'd hawked male clients who were
high-priced geriatric patients compared to Natalie and never heard
those complaints. He hardly considered himself a feminist, but on
this particular afternoon, on behalf of this particular client,
Geoff was pissed.
    And worried.
    To make matters worse, Scoppio was
stonewalling him by not returning phone calls. Geoff knew it was
just another tactic to keep him off balance but still he found it
irritating. This was the one aspect of agenting he disliked: at
base he was a supplicant. He could cajole, he could reason, he
could manipulate, but he couldn't force news directors to do what
he wanted. Especially when he couldn't get them on the phone.
    Restlessly, Geoff flicked a switch on the
master remote that squatted on a corner of his expansive desk, one
unit that controlled all three of his televisions, both his VCRs,
the Nakamichi stereo, and for an added fillip of excitement, the
sliding door on the adjacent wall that hid the 48-inch Sony flat
panel. He played with a few buttons on the remote, rewinding the
tape in the left VCR and rerouting the connection so it would play
on the Sony screen.
    He rolled through the first section of
Natalie's resume reel, a video showcase of her best on-air work. If
he was going to embark on a serious job hunt, Natalie should
freshen the reel with new material, like the live shot from the
collapsed 210 freeway. Nothing deadened news director interest like
an antique reel. The tape began with quick cuts of Natalie
anchoring, in the studio and from the field. Geoff lingered over
some segments, smiling, jotting down notes. A good bit of it he
knew by heart. He also knew the reel was already as good as reels
got.
    Still, he made his way painstakingly through
the second section, Natalie reporting. He smiled with recognition.
There she was in front of the L.A. County Courthouse in a gray
pin-striped suit, doing a stand-up amid shouting crowds just after
the not-guilty verdict in the O. J. Simpson criminal trial. And
there she was in Kobe, next to a collapsed Japanese-style house,
reporting on the aftermath of the massive earthquake. Her blond
hair wasn't in the elegant twist she maintained in studio, but
blowing about her face. She looked lovely, he thought, but
tired.
    He remembered how she'd returned to LA. from
Kobe exhausted and promptly lost her voice. She was off the air for
a few days and hating life. He'd gone to her house with a jar of
honey and a few herbal teas and brewed her a sample of each and
every one. She was in leggings and a flannel shirt, he remembered.
It was the first time he'd ever seen her in anything but a
suit.
    He smiled at the recollection. Which tea had
she liked best? Yes, Licorice Spice. He made a note. She could use
a pick-me-up. He'd messenger a box to the station.
    His intercom buzzed. "Janet on line one."
    Janet. He hesitated before picking up the
phone. "Hi." He cleared his throat. "Hi."
    "Honey, are you okay? You sound a little
under the weather."
    "No, no, I'm fine." He kept his eyes trained
on Natalie's flickering videotaped image but made an effort to
enliven his voice. "So how was your day?"
    "Fun! We took the summer schoolers to the zoo
and they went wild, especially at the penguins. One wetting, one
vomiting, only two crying fits. Not the penguins, the kids."
    Janet laughed and Geoff listened
absentmindedly as she continued to describe the outing. He could
just imagine her tending to the ragtag band of six-year-olds.
Wiping faces and behinds with equal equanimity, straight blond hair
falling about her laughing