Private Scandals Read Free

bitch.”
    Stepping away from Roger, Deanna uncapped a pot of cold cream to remove her heavy makeup. She didn’t like having her coworkers pitted against one another, competing for her time, and she didn’t like feeling pressured into choosing between them. It had been difficult enough juggling her responsibilities in the newsroom and on set with the favors she did for Angela. And they were only favors, after all. Done primarily on her own time.
    “All I know is that she’s been nothing but kind to me. She liked my work on Midday and the ‘Deanna’s Corner’ segment and offered to help me refine my style.”
    “She’s using you.”
    “She’s teaching me,” Deanna corrected, tossing used makeup pads aside. Her movements were quick and practiced. She hit the center of the wastebasket as consistently as a veteran free-throw shooter. “There’s a reason Angela has the top-rated talk show in the market. It would have taken me years to learn the ins and outs of the business I’ve picked up from her in a matter of months.”
    “And do you really think she’s going to share a piece of that pie?”
    She pouted a moment because, of course, she wanted a piece. A nice big one. Healthy selfishness, she thought, and chuckled to herself. “It’s not as though I’m competing with her.”
    “Not yet.” But she would be, he knew. It surprised him that Angela didn’t detect the ambition glinting just behind Deanna’s eyes. But then, he mused, ego was often blinding.He had reason to know. “Just some friendly advice. Don’t give her any ammunition.” He took one last study as Deanna briskly redid her makeup for the street. She might have been naive, he mused, but she was also stubborn. He could see it in the way her mouth was set, the angle of her chin. “I’ve got a couple of bumpers to tape.” He tugged on her hair. “See you tomorrow.”
    “Yeah.” Once she was alone, Deanna tapped her eye pencil against the makeup table. She didn’t discount everything Roger said. Because she was a perfectionist, because she demanded, and received, the best for her show, Angela Perkins had a reputation for being hard. And it certainly paid off. After six years in syndication, Angela’s had been in the number-one spot for more than three.
    Since both Angela’s and Midday News were taped at the CBC studios, Angela had been able to exert a little pressure to free up some of Deanna’s time.
    It was also true that Angela had been nothing but kind to Deanna. She had shown Deanna a friendship and a willingness to share that were rare in the highly competitive world of television.
    Was it naive to trust kindness? Deanna didn’t think so. Nor was she foolish enough to believe that kindness was always rewarded.
    Thoughtfully, she picked up the brush marked with her name and pulled it through her shoulder-length black hair. Without the cover of heavy theatrical makeup necessary for the lights and camera, her skin was as elegantly pale as porcelain, a dramatic contrast to the inky mane of hair and the smoky, slightly slanted eyes. To add another touch of drama, she’d painted her lips a deep rose.
    Satisfied, she pulled her hair back in a ponytail with two quick flicks of her wrist.
    She never planned to compete with Angela. Although she hoped to use what she learned to boost her own career, what she wanted was a network spot, someday. Maybe a job on 20/20. And it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that she could expand the weekly “Deanna’s Corner” segment on thenoon news into a full-fledged syndicated talk show of her own. Even that would hardly be competing with Angela, the queen of the market.
    The nineties were wide open for all manner of styles and shows. If she succeeded, it would be because she’d learned from the master. She would always be grateful to Angela for that.
     
    “If the son of a bitch thinks I’m going to roll over, he’s in for an unpleasant surprise.” Angela Perkins glared at the reflection