Anna Pitoniak - Necessary People

“How do you stand it?” I said to Jamie, who was calmly reading a report about cancer research. He was making notes and highlighting things, engaging his brain in a level of deep thinking that was currently inconceivable to me.

“This is your first real baby.” He didn’t look up from the document. “The second one’s less exciting, I promise.”

Throughout the day, I caught glimpses of the KCN feed on screens in the newsroom. Promos for the story were running during commercial breaks. Rebecca was going to appear on KCN’s morning show to tease the story. She was also planning to tip to it at the end of that night’s broadcast. Hank, the floor director, let me watch from inside Studio B.

“And be sure to tune in tomorrow night,” Rebecca said, as the D block edged toward the close, “when we’ll take you inside the explosive story of how far one Fortune 500 company was willing to go to increase their profits. You won’t want to miss it. Until then, I’m Rebecca Carter. Thank you for watching, and we’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

“Clear,” Hank yelled.

Rebecca’s smile vanished. She glared into the camera. “Who the hell booked that idiot? I told you a thousand times I can’t stand those people from the Heritage Foundation.”

The guest in the last segment had been particularly pompous, extolling the virtues of privatizing Social Security. Rebecca kept her cool during the interview, but if you knew what to look for, her twitching frustration was obvious. She shook her head at whatever Eliza was saying into her ear. “I don’t give a shit, Lizey. Never again, got it?”

Rebecca yanked out her earpiece. She spotted me as she made for the studio door. “Was that guy as big a blowhard as I thought he was?”

“Worse, actually,” I said. “You should read his latest white paper.”

“I’ve had enough masochism for one day, thank you,” she said, as we walked up the stairs from the studio, back to the newsroom.

Eliza was waiting outside Rebecca’s office. “You were good tonight,” she said. “That color really works on you.”

Rebecca glanced down at her hot pink blouse. “I hate this. I look like Barbie.”

“Pink tests well,” Eliza said. “The viewers think it makes you look sassy.”

“Jesus Christ, Eliza, are you trying to kill me?”

Eliza smiled. “Maybe just a little.”

She followed Rebecca into her office. A moment later, their laughter echoed into the bullpen. With Rebecca and Eliza, there was always a clean separation between their professional rancor and their friendship. They could yell at each other, no-holds-barred, but within a minute or two, it was like nothing had happened. For this dynamic to work, the two of them had to be equally and fully confident in themselves. Both Rebecca and Eliza knew how good they were. And I suspect that each believed—in her heart of hearts—that she was slightly smarter than the other. But only slightly. Close enough that no one else would notice. This led to a certain generosity in their friendship, a constant forgiving of the other person. Jealousy was a non-factor, because why be jealous when you knew that you had it better?

Later that night, as the office was emptying out, my phone rang. It was a blocked number. “ Frontline, ” I said. “This is Violet Trapp.”

“They only gave me your number.” The woman’s tone was icy and impatient. “I need to speak to Eliza Davis.”

“Can I ask what this is about?”

“Put me on with Eliza.”

“I’ll have to check—”

“ Now, please.”

I punched the hold button and stuck my head into Eliza’s office. “Call for you on line one,” I said.

She glanced at the clocks on her wall—New York, Los Angeles, London, POTUS—and then raised an eyebrow. “Someone from Danner?”

“I think so. I tried to ask, but—”

“It’s just an ego thing,” Eliza said. “They want to talk to the person in charge. Makes them feel better. Here, sit down.”

Eliza pressed the blinking button and put the call on speaker. “This is Eliza,” she said.

“Eliza. This is Mary. I’m the head of communications here at Danner.”

“What do you have for us, Mary?”

“These are serious allegations you’re making. We don’t take any of this lightly.”

“I should hope not.”

“We believe there has been a fundamental misunderstanding. This story doesn’t reflect the truth, which is that the culture of Danner is a healthy and supportive one, for all employees. There were a few reckless actors, driven by greed, who did unforgiveable things. We have every intention of dealing with this in a manner that reflects the severity of their actions.”

“Is this your statement? Should I be writing this down?”

“I’m doing you one better. Our CEO wants to sit for an interview. He was extremely upset by these allegations, and he feels that he should explain Danner’s side of the story.”

“Okaaaay,” Eliza said. “But this wouldn’t be softball.”

“Nothing is off limits,” Mary said. “We only have one condition. We get to select the interviewer.”

“It would be Rebecca, obviously.”

“We had a different person in mind.”

“You know that Rebecca will give him a fair shake.”

“It has to be Stella Bradley,” Mary said.

“ What? ” Eliza said.

“Oh my God,” I whisper-choke-coughed, but Eliza waved at me to shut up.

“Stella Bradley. He likes her work.”

“Stella Bradley is approximately ten years old.”

“She’s an excellent interviewer, and from what I understand, she’s a rising star at KCN. Your bosses probably wouldn’t be happy to hear you speaking about her in that way.”

“I don’t give a shit what they think. Mary, come on.”

“I’m serious.” There was a long pause. “It’s Stella, or no dice.”

Eliza pressed her index fingers against her temples. “She may not be available on such short notice. She could be out on assignment.”

“I have a feeling she’ll make herself available for an opportunity like this.”

Eliza stared at her phone, at the digital readout that showed the seconds ticking by. “Okay. I’ll talk to my people and call you back.”

After the call ended, Eliza was quiet. My heart was pounding.

“Eliza,” I said, my voice high and shaky. “This isn’t a good idea. We can’t do this.”

She looked up at me, quizzically. “I thought you two were friends.”

“We are,” I said. “But this just isn’t—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Eliza said. “We have to take this seriously. Can you find Rebecca and Jamie? And I’ll get Ginny on the phone.”

“I don’t like this, Gin,” Rebecca said. We had assembled in her office, and she was seated behind her desk, talking to the speakerphone. “Why does he get to call the shots?”

“We have to let Danner respond to these allegations.” Ginny’s voice was cool and controlled. “It’s their right, and our duty. It would be irresponsible to run the story without it.”

While Ginny spoke, Rebecca pressed the mute button. “What the fuck, Lizey? When have you known Ginny to give a plum like this to some JV player?”

“You know how Ginny is,” Eliza said. “Stella’s one of her favorites.”

“This is bullshit,” Rebecca muttered. She unmuted the call, and said, “Yeah, okay, I hear what you’re saying. If you think this is the right thing to do.”

“Thank you, Rebecca,” Ginny said. “I knew you’d understand. Eliza, you’ll call them back? And someone will get hold of Stella?”

“Violet can wrangle her,” Eliza said. “Then let’s regroup, okay?”

When I texted Stella, she was just wrapping up a hit in the 9 p.m. hour. Several minutes later, she arrived at the newsroom, looking especially glamorous in her full hair and makeup. Exactly like the person you’d want conducting a high-powered interview with a CEO. “What is it?” she said to me and Jamie. “You didn’t say in your text.”