The Price of Fame - KJ1

of

Fame

By

Lynn Ames

THE PRICE OF FAME

© 2004 BY LYNN AMES

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

ISBN: 978-1-933113-19-7

Other Versions: Paperback, ISBN: 1-933113-04-9

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

________________________________________________________

CREDITS

EXECUTIVE EDITOR: TARA YOUNG

COVER DESIGN BY VALERIE HAYKEN (WWW.VALERIEHAYKEN.COM) Published by

Intaglio Publications

P O Box 357474

Gainesville, Florida 32635

Visit us on the web: www.intagliopub.com

About the Author

An award-winning former broadcast journalist, Lynn Ames is a nationally recognized speaker and CEO of a public relations firm with a particular expertise in image, crisis communications planning, and crisis management.

Ms. Ames resides in the Northeastern U.S. with her favorite guy (relax, it’s a dog), a golden retriever named Alex, who bears a remarkable resemblance to a character in this book. She enjoys all manner of sports, reading, traveling, all things intellectual, singing, dancing, and writing (which no longer counts as a hobby, as your purchase of this book attests).

More about the author, including contact information, other writings, news about sequels and other original upcoming works, pictures of locations mentioned in this novel, links to resources related to issues raised in this book, author and character interviews, and purchasing assistance can be found at www.lynnames.com.

For Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse Everywhere: In Survival There Is Strength, Courage, and Resilience In Finding Your Voice You Can Make a Difference
Acknowledgments

The Price of Fame
was not the book I had intended to write, but that is a long story. The fact that you now hold it in your hands is the culmination of a lifelong dream: for years I have been telling anyone who would listen that all I wanted to do was write books and be left alone.

Well, at least half of that equation has been realized!

In many ways, this book wrote itself; the characters, whom I love dearly, spent countless hours whispering in my ear. The result: plot twists that surprised even me.

I have always maintained that the best fiction contains elements of truth; as a reader, it's that believability that keeps you turning the pages.

In that sense I owe a debt of gratitude to all those who provided me with such rich life experiences; you have fed me enough material to write an infinite number of novels.

To the good folks at BookEnds Press, and StarCrossed Productions, especially Kathy Smith, for doing an outstanding job producing this book. And to Radclyffe, an outstanding and most gracious fellow author, for invaluable suggestions and advice.

Writing a book like this is made much easier when the author can rely on real-life experts to ensure accuracy. To Marcia Neville and Claire Bee, my eternal thanks for being so good at what you do and for your willingness to share that knowledge with me.

A very special thanks goes to my initial editors and chief cheerleaders, Terry Glidden and Kat Lodge. Without Kat's persistence this novel never would have come to be. Her amazing research abilities re: time, place, and historical events astound me. Terry is responsible for making my words count. Her patience and attention to detail make my work so much stronger. Thanks to Stacia Seaman, for coming on board and giving me confidence in the final product.

Whoever said you can't judge a book by its cover hasn't met my cover designer. Thanks hardly seem adequate for the extraordinary job Valerie Hayken has done to make me look so good. She is, indeed, one of the most talented photographers/graphic designers I have ever met.

Finally, to Lisa J. Herzog, who shared so much of my journey, always encouraging and believing in me: I owe you more than I can ever repay.

If the true definition of a friend is one who will stand by you through good times and bad, then there is no greater friend in the world. Thank you. 1-4-3-7.

The Price of Fame

hil, do you have that last page?”

“P“It’s

right here, Kate.”

“You’re a prince.”

“Have I ever let you down?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Hey, Roger, nice work on those shots from the train derailment; you really captured the feel of the scene.”

The cameraman blushed. “Thanks, Kate.”

“Okay, people, two minutes.”

Bodies were in motion everywhere, and in the middle of all of the chaos, the anchorwoman strode unhurriedly onto the set and sat down in her chair. She clipped the lapel microphone to her silk suit jacket, inserted her earpiece, placed her copy down on the desk, and ran her fingers through her hair one last time to settle it in place.

Katherine Ann Kyle was singular. It wasn’t just the fact that she was classically beautiful, with long raven hair, piercing blue eyes, high, chiseled cheekbones, clear, lightly tanned skin, and a lithe but muscular body on a six-foot frame. It was more the unconscious way that she carried herself: strong, assured, and completely unaware of her attractiveness. She had an intangible quality that made her at once compelling and yet somehow unattainable.

“Kate, we’re going to start with camera two and then shift to camera one after we roll the first piece of tape.”

She didn’t answer the director’s disembodied voice in her ear, but he knew she’d heard him just the same; she was a pro.

“And, three, two, one, cue the music. Music fade, and...go.”

The anchorwoman smiled up at the camera. “Good evening. This is the WCAP evening news for Wednesday, April 29, 1987. I’m Katherine Kyle...”

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Lynn Ames

Jamison Parker, Jay to her friends, shouldered her way through the hotel room door, trying to balance her briefcase and her garment bag all at the same time. She dumped the briefcase as soon as she cleared the threshold and the door clicked closed behind her. Then she hung the garment bag in the closet and proceeded into the room, kicking off her shoes as she went and running to answer the phone, which was already ringing.

“Yeah, Trish, I agree with you...No, no. His press secretary and his scheduler both told me the governor would see me tomorrow at four...Yes, that’s four p.m., ya goofball.”

The petite, green-eyed blonde cocked her head and listened to her editor ramble on about how important this piece was going to be for the magazine, since this governor was being touted as a rising star and possible presidential material. She wandered over to the bed, flopped down on it with a grunt, and flipped on the television with the remote she’d found on the nightstand. She glanced at her watch; great, just in time to catch the local news and maybe get some idea of the regional issues before her interview tomorrow.

“Trish, you don’t need to offer me your firstborn in exchange for a great story. Hell, I’ve met your son, you can keep him!” She said it with a smile in her voice, and her friend laughed and continued to prattle on.

Jay’s eyes drifted to the screen as the music came on signaling the start of the newscast. She rolled her eyes at something her editor said and was about to reply when she locked eyes with the news anchor.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe it, it’s
her
!” The writer didn’t even bother to say goodbye before disconnecting the call.

She sat there, mesmerized, afraid to blink lest the image disappear.

For five years this woman had dominated her dreams and fueled her imagination. Now there she was...Jay ignored the ringing of the phone again, knowing it was her editor calling back. Just for good measure, she took the receiver off the hook.
Katherine Kyle. Now I have a name to go
with that unforgettable face and voice.

12

The Price of Fame

t precisely 2:30 p.m. the next day Kate strolled through the door Ato the newsroom. As usual, she was impeccably dressed in a crème colored button-down silk blouse and a rich blue silk pantsuit that complemented her deep blue eyes. She poked her head into one of the edit bays and greeted Gene, one of her favorite cameramen, who was laying down pictures to go with a report on dredging PCBs from the river. Then she continued on to her desk, fired up her word processor, and scanned the national headlines on the Associated Press wire.

The newsroom was quiet at that hour. The day shift reporters were all out covering stories, and the evening anchors and reporters weren’t due in for another hour. Kate always liked to get in early, though; unlike some of her on-air colleagues, she refused to be just a talking head. She was a journalist first, and an anchor second in her mind. As the primary anchor or star, she was very rarely required to go out on the street to cover a story these days, but, unlike her male co-anchor, she still insisted on writing her own news copy and took the time to research the day's happenings instead of simply reading somebody else’s words in front of a camera. This fact earned her a great deal of respect among most of her peers, who appreciated her work ethic and intelligence.

As for her co-anchor, well, as she had once told him when he complained that she was making him look bad, “You don’t need my help for that, Gerry. You do a great job all by yourself.” The entire newsroom had erupted in laughter and Gerry had stalked from the room to spend his usual two hours in makeup reading the comics.

As the anchorwoman ran through the day’s headlines she listened with half an ear to the usual sounds of the newsroom that had become routine background noise to her over the years: the assignment editor barking into the phone at a field producer, the cameramen complaining about the reporters they were assigned to work with, the tapping of fingers on word processors, the police scanners, and the three television monitors that were tuned to each of WCAP’s competitors.

13

Lynn Ames

Then her sharp ears picked up something unusual. She strode purposefully over to the nearest police scanner just as Phil, the producer, reached it. She turned it up.

“...(unintelligible)...explosion at the capitol...(unintelligible)...eagle is flying…”

“Holy shit,” he exclaimed. “Holy shit. The governor was in the damn building.”

“Who’ve we got in the area?” Kate asked urgently.

“No one. Everybody’s on something else or not in yet.”

“Gene,” she yelled. “Get your gear. Make sure you bring an extra camera, two extra battery packs, extra tape, and a couple of mics, including the wireless lavaliere. I’ll get the satellite truck and meet you out back. Phil, get me a field producer ASAP.”

“Kate,” Phil started to say, but she was already out of earshot.

The scene on State Street was pure pandemonium. Kate and Gene weaved their way through the crowds of panicked people running in the opposite direction. It had been seven minutes since they had left the station, which was located just on the outskirts of the city. The anchorwoman was already clipping on a wireless lavaliere microphone that would pick up her voice and transmit it back to the satellite truck for direct feed to the television newsroom. Next she inserted an earpiece that would keep her in contact with the newsroom, her cameraman and field producer, when one arrived on scene. In her hand she carried a wireless microphone. She looked up at the building that was the centerpiece of the city and gaped at the hole that had been blown right through the area that housed the senate chamber. They were standing some twenty feet from the building. “Get a picture of that, Gene. I’m going to find some eyewitnesses and try to get a handle on this thing. And Gene, tell the station we’re gonna go live with the coverage beginning when I come back here. Get the feed up and running.” With that, Kate disappeared from sight, swallowed up by the fleeing crowd.

Within seconds, she had located several members of the state legislature, including the senate majority leader, whose suit jacket was torn and whose hair, for the first time Kate could ever remember, was actually disheveled. He had a small gash over his left eye, and his boyishly handsome face was covered in ash. Never one to miss an opportunity to be seen by his constituents, he quickly consented to be interviewed.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that he had tried many times to pick Kate up when she first became a reporter in the area. Deferring to the fact that he 14

The Price of Fame

was very married, among other reasons, she had always politely declined his advances. Clearly he held no grudge against her.

She steered him over to where Gene was waiting so that she had the dramatic footage of the hole in the side of the capitol behind her. “Good afternoon,” the anchorwoman said, looking directly at the camera. “This is Katherine Kyle reporting live from the scene of a tremendous explosion here at the state capitol building in Albany, New York. With me is State Senate Majority Leader Clyde Hicksdale. Senator, can you describe to us what happened?”