“Trainwrecks, you mean.”
Valenti, who had watched quietly until now, opened his briefcase and consulted a page he drew out. “We have Tina McCannon of Paradox PI on board. Also . . . Jeffrey Miles, the TV psychic. I think you’re familiar with them?” He met my gaze and matched my stare. One predator sizing up another. Suddenly, I was the one who wanted to look away.
“You got Tina to agree to this? And Jeffrey?”
Both of them were psychics; Tina worked with a team of paranormal investigators on prime-time TV, and Jeffrey did the channeling-dead-relatives thing on daytime talk shows. I’d had adventures with them both, and the prospect of spending two weeks in a cabin in the middle of nowhere taping a TV show was a lot more attractive if I’d be doing it with them.
“What do you think, Kitty? Do we have a deal?”
I needed to make some phone calls. “Can I get back to you on that? I need to check my schedule. Talk it over with my people.”
“Of course. But don’t take too long. We want to move on this quickly. Before someone else steals the idea.” Provost actually winked at that, and his smile never faltered. Valenti had settled back and regarded me coolly.
“You’re not scheduling this over a full moon, are you?” I said.
“Oh, no, certainly not,” Provost said, way too seriously.
“Just one more question,” I said. “Have you signed on Mercedes Cook?”
Provost hesitated, as if unsure which answer would be the right one. I knew which answer was the right one: If the Broadway star/vampire/double-crossing fink was on the show, I was staying as far away as possible.
“No,” he said finally. “She turned us down flat.”
Wonders never ceased. But they’d asked her. And she’d said no, so I might still do this thing. “Ah. Good,” I said, and Provost relaxed.
We managed polite farewells and handshakes. Ozzie and I walked the two producers outside to their rented BMW. Provost continued to be gracious and flattering. Valenti stayed in the background. Sizing me up, I couldn’t help but think.
After they’d driven away, we returned to the building. The late summer sun beat down. It had been a beautiful day, a recent heat spell had broken, and the air felt clean. Smelled like rain.
I turned to Ozzie. “Well?”
He shrugged. “I think it’s a great opportunity. But it’s up to you. You’re the one who’s going to have to go through with it.”
“Right. I’m just not sure what exactly I’d be dealing with. What are the consequences going to be if I do this?”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” he said.
I hated that question. Reality always came up with so much worse than I could imagine. “I could make an idiot of myself, ruin my reputation, lose my audience, my ratings, my show, and never make a living in show business again.”
“No, the worst that could happen is you’d die on film in a freak accident, and how likely is that?” Trust Ozzie to be the realist. I glared at him.
“Who knows? At best it’ll suck in a whole new audience. To tell you the truth, with people like Tina and Jeffrey involved, it kind of sounds like fun.”
“You know what I’m going to say,” Ozzie said. “Any publicity is good publicity.”
So far in my career that had been true. I was waiting for the day when it wasn’t.
Carrie Vaughn, Kitty Raises Hell
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