The Boys' Club Read Free

going, then we can slowly reveal the man behind the
headlines. Go for a nice profile in Australian Woman , get the older
45-plus Willard Frost-loving demographic on board first before we
start trying to appeal to eighteen to thirty-fives . . .'
    The silence was frightening. In fact, if it wasn't for the raspy
breathing coming through the earpiece, Rosie could have sworn he'd
hung up.
    Finally: 'Listen here,' Keith roared. 'Do you know how much we
paid to get him from Three? DO YOU?'
    'Keith, yes I do, I know it was a considerable investment, which is
why I'm warning you—'
    'Three point five fucking million! Un-fucking-heard of. Then
there's the two mill we're spending to rebrand the joint with him as
the face of news – Channel Six news – Australia's news! The face of
Australia's news is not a coke sniffer. DO YOU HEAR ME?'
    'Yes, Keith, I'm well aware, but—' Rosie should have saved her
breath. Keith was clearly over listening.
    'I don't know what he wants to do that shit for anyway,' he said, his
voice softening from bellow to badger. 'I hear coke makes your cock
go soft. I mean, what's the fucking point in that? Raaaark . Look, the
rest of it you can handle. Bit of pussy, bit of biff . . . but I don't like
drugs. The network doesn't like drugs. Graham Hunt will not be
associated with drugs! GOT IT?'
    'Keith, I get it and will do my best, but I'm going to need—'
    'I don't think you heard me. Have you GOT IT?'
    'Yup, got it, Keith,' Rosie replied, biting her lip. There was nothing
to say, and no point trying if there had been. Once again Rosie felt
the numbness of frustration and noticed her fists were clenched with
tension.
    'Now, that dickhead at the Financial Forecaster , another one of
your journo mates. That moron has fucked up again.'
    Hell , Rosie thought, Keith hasn't hung up.
    'I spoke to him yesterday to check the facts of his story,' she replied.
'I can't see what could be wrong.' She knew what would come next,
of course. It was the same complaint every day of late.
    'The fucker wrote that we're losing the lead-in to news.'
    'Er, Keith, we are. We have been for months. Ratings don't lie.'
    'We were up seven thousand in Brisbane, we were huge in over-thirty-fives. You don't see those mongrels writing that!'
    'But, Keith, we're a hundred and seventy thousand behind in
Sydney. I can give journos our spin, but the fact of the matter is, I
can't polish a turd.'
    Rosie could almost feel the large beast of a man hunch over the
phone at the other end. She had seen him do it enough times, as
though the phone was a neck and he was aiming straight at its
jugular.
    'Listen, if the lead-in sneezes, this whole network catches a cold,
you hear me? Now fucking fix it. I don't want to read that we're
panicking about the lead-in, okay! And I don't want to hear another
word about drugs!'
    'Fine, Keith,' Rosie said, acquiescing to the Big Man just like
everyone else.
    'Good. Now get up here and see me. I want to go through this
Kennedy Awards shit with you before the others get here. I've moved
the programming meeting to two pm when they've pissed off.'
    Not being at the office could cost Rosie her job, sick child
notwithstanding, so the only option was to lie. 'I'm actually having
breakfast with the media writer from the National. I won't be there
for another half-hour at least.' Rosie could hear the tremor in her
voice but hoped Keith would assume it was a bad line.
    'Just fucking get here. That pair of vinegar tits, Bettina Arthur, is
coming in too. I want you to be real nice to her 'cause I can't. She's a
nark. No fucking idea about TV but suddenly she's telling me how to
run the network. Bitch. Bet she hasn't had a decent fu—'
    'Er, I'm on my way, Keith,' Rosie said, not wanting to go there.
As she hung up the phone, she gave herself one precious second to
comprehend the madness of her existence. How had it come to this?
Was this any kind of life? As usual, there was no time to wait for an
answer.

CHAPTER 3
    Leon was