Chapter 90 – Pleasing the Boss

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t clear. I’ll try again—you’re a woman in a man’s world, Brystin. Every job will come at another woman’s expense. You have to look out for you in this business. No one else. It’s cutthroat, but you can make friends elsewhere.”

“Okay.” I’m mentally taking notes, wondering if I could ever be that hard. Wondering if I ever want to be that hard. “Is it worth it? I mean, I’m sure it is. It would just be nice if it didn’t have to be women against women all the time, you know?”

Her smile is one I recognize. It’s the one she offers every time an interviewee walks in to her next question. “Funny, you say that…”

We’re interrupted by the arrival of the waiter.

Once our orders are placed, and we’ve received our bloody Marys, I expect her to pick up where she left off. “By the way, I didn’t exactly get canceled because of you,” she says instead. “My contract was up for renewal, but I didn’t want to sign.”

“What?” I know Hadrian had alluded to Jessa leaving on her own terms, but I’ve never been quite able to wr*p my mind around it.

“I went to Adeline that weekend hoping that I could get Hadrian to agree to letting me move into a producer position. I heard he was kicking around bringing on some fresh talent, and when we met, I figured it was you. I apologize if this seems stalkerish, but I did a little digging on the internet when I was alone later that night—”

“—as any good reporter would do—”

“Exactly—and what I saw was incredible. A little unpolished, but the raw talent was there. The spark that can’t be taught. The rest, I know, will come with time and guidance. So I went to Hadrian, and said I wanted to produce whatever he was putting together for you.”

“Oh my God, are you serious?” I’m beside myself. Jessa Jones wanted to produce me?

I try to imagine for a second how it would be to work under someone like her rather than someone like Elvis. There’s such a prevalence of men in producer positions that I’ve never thought about the possibility of working with a woman.

Well, and I haven’t pictured myself working with anyone besides Elvis in years.

“It would have been amazing, wouldn’t it?” she says. “We would have turned that show into gold.”

I can see it. It could have been something special.

But I don’t have the show anymore, and of course, the producer position went to Elvis. For the first time, I see how my partnership with my soon-to-be ex backfired. The intent had been that he could use his experience to take me into whatever new jobs he was offered. I’ve always believed he was limiting himself with me as his ball and chain. I never realized he was my ball and the chain.

I wonder if Hadrian ever even considered hiring me without Elvis. Did Jessa ever have a chance? “I saw you arguing with Hadrian the day you left Adeline—was it about the show?”

“Yes and no. It was me throwing a tantrum, really. I told him that putting a talent like you under an out-of-touch misogynist like Elvis Endlich was a crime. I meant it, but I only said it out loud because I was disappointed to not get the job.” She seems to remember my relationship with the man she’s dissing. “Sorry. I know he’s your husband.”

“Soon-to-be ex.” I’m surprised how liberating it is to say out loud.

She lifts her bloody Mary in a toast. “Good for you.”

“Wait a minute—you said the same thing when you found out I was married to him.”

“Yeah, but this time I mean it.” She winks. “Anyway, it all worked out for the best. For me, at least. I took a position at SHE. You familiar with it?”

I am. “It’s a platform like Netflix, only all the programming is for women.”

“Programming for and by women. Nearly every person in a decision-making position is female or non-binary.”

“It’s owned by Bob Peterson, though, isn’t it?” I don’t know much about the man except that he’s frequently on the rich*st people in New York lists.

“Yes, that is a downside. So far he’s remained really hands-off, so I’m hopeful.”

“Well, congratulations. That’s really great. But what are you doing there? They don’t have any news programming.”

“Not true. They have one show that walks the line bet**en talk show and news show, which is a start. It’s a daily program. There are three women who rotate the host position. Two of them are really happy about the arrangement. It allows for them to have time with their families.”

“What about the third woman?”

“The third woman is me. I’m just filling in right now until this other host gets back from her maternity leave in another few months. What I’ve really been tasked to do for the network is to conceive of and produce a news show from scratch. Something like what Jon Stewart is doing on Apple. Well-rounded news with topics that affect women in particular. Not so sure on the concept yet. The vision is still in the works.”

“That sounds…incredible.” As someone who’s currently jobless, I’m more than a little jealous.

“Does that mean you’ll take the host position?”

I practically spit alcohol-spiked tomato juice all over the table and have to cough for several seconds before I can speak. “You want…me?”

“I just told you that I wanted to produce you. I thought it was obvious where I was going this whole time.”

“No, no. It’s a delightful surprise.” I let it sink in. “And yes! I’m yours. I don’t even need to hear more, but you know, you can go ahead and tell me.”

She does just that, explaining that she’d like for us to come up with the exact concept together. The pay isn’t anything like what SNC paid, but it’s more than I made at New Jersey Now. Most importantly, it’s a job. One I’ve earned all on my own merit.

“I’m also hoping you’ll take my temp spot on the other show in the meantime,” she says after we’ve spent the whole meal discussing details and ideas. “I want to get your face in front of viewers as soon as possible, and it’s good to have a place for people who loved you on Our Nation Now to tune in before they forget they loved you.”

I love how blunt she is, never sugarcoating anything. It’s refreshing compared to the way Elvis talked to me, which was always patronizing or overly flattering. “Sure. That’s good thinking.”

“Thank God, I’m done with the in-front-of-camera life.”

“Really? May I ask why?”

“Honestly? I’m tired of covering the gray in my hair.” She laughs. “And I’ve done that. I need something new. I’m ready to mentor.”

“I’m ready to be mentored.” Really mentored, for once.

We talk for another two hours. It’s comfortable and inspiring and exciting—a lot like many of my conversations with Hadrian, but also totally different. I can’t remember a time in my career that I’ve had another woman who can talk at my level.

By the time we leave, I can’t remember why I ever thought a show on a network as big as SNC was the best place for me. That was Elvis’s dream, I realize. I’m still figuring out what my dream is, but I know I’m finally on the right track.

“Jessa.” I catch her before we part in different directions outside the café. “Can I ask how you got my number?”

I know the most likely answer, but I want to hear how it came about.

“Hadrian called me,” she said, confirming my suspicions. “Apologized for ever thinking that you and I weren’t meant to be together.”

“That was big of him,” I say.

“Real big,” she says, as if she knows there’s something more bet**en me and Hadrian, and maybe she does. She doesn’t strike me as the type to believe the tabloids, but people are surprising. “I think he might be one of the good ones.”

“Yeah. I think he might be too.”

When I’m on the train, I text him.

I’m starting to believe.

Just wait. I’m still proving it.

Still wearing a grin, I call Shiloh. “Guess what? I got a job. And this time I didn’t have to sleep with the producer or the CEO.”

“Well, well. Look at you.”

I am looking at me, and for the first time in a long time, I like who I see.

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