Eyes On You Part 10

"I started the book before I returned to TV," I said, making sure not to sound defensive. "I had no clue I'd be lucky enough to land another show."

"Last question. What do you consider your biggest weakness?"

I'd banked on her asking that. "Besides chocolate?" I said, c.o.c.king my chin toward the gla.s.s jar of M&M's on my desk. "I sometimes fail to stop and smell the roses."

"Would you say you're fiercely ambitious, then?"

An alarm went off in my brain. In light of my conversation with Potts, I had to be careful how I responded. "I wouldn't characterize it quite that way. I just love my work. And sometimes a day goes by, and I realize that I've been enjoying myself so much, I forgot to break for lunch."

After she departed, I swung by Tom's office and filled him in about my conversation with Potts.

"Why would you be looking into crime stuff without checking with me?" he asked.

G.o.d, I thought, was that his main concern?

"I simply wanted to flesh out my ideas before showing you."

"Yeah, okay," he said, shrugging. He started rapping his knuckles lightly on his desktop, as if he had something else on his mind, but he never volunteered it. I told him I'd see him at the meeting and left. As I hurried back to my office, I thought of what Carter had said. Tom might have one foot out the door.

The Times reporter returned later to watch the show from just off-set. Carter had been forewarned about her presence, and he did his best to make us both look as good as possible.

With the distraction of the reporter removed, the pit was back in my stomach the next morning. Each time I stepped into the doorway of my office, I'd search the room with my eyes, wondering if another ugly surprise awaited me. I felt anxious, too, about how life might blow up after my revelation to security. Potts didn't want me drawing attention to myself, and I'd be doing just that. According to Ann, the Times piece was not likely to run until Thursday or Friday.

On Wednesday morning, my cell phone roused me from sleep before my alarm had a chance to. It was Ann, calling to report that the piece was in that day's edition, sooner than expected.

"I wanted to give you a heads-up before you saw it or anyone called," she told me.

"Is there a problem?" I asked. Her tone was hardly joyous.

"Not really, no. It's the kind of piece people would kill for, and the publisher will probably love it."

"But . . . ?"

"There's a quote in there you aren't going to like."

"From whom?"

"Unattributed. I just sent you the link."

"What's the line?"

"I want you to read it in context. Then call me back."

I'd been using my laptop in bed the night before; I s.n.a.t.c.hed it from the floor, clicked on the link and began to read, racing over the words. It all seemed good-my book was "insightful and provocative," I was a rising TV star, totally charming on the air and in perfect sync with my coanchor. Jeez, I thought, what's not to like?

And then my eyes lit on the line.

"Ms. Trainer got a relatively late start in television and lost ground temporarily after her last show was canceled. But with her new show-and its strong ratings-she's making up for lost time. And there are some who say she has bigger things in sight. 'Her ambition is as naked as a p.o.r.n star,' says one source at the cable network who asked not to be identified. 'Don't make the mistake of getting in her way.'"

Oh lovely, I thought. Now I'm Eve Harrington slash p.o.r.n star.

I called Ann back. "Overall, the piece is great, but you're right, I hate that quote. Can you find out who said it?"

"You know as well as I do that they never divulge their sources."

"Who do you think said it?"

"I have no idea. I arranged for her to do phone interviews with Potts, Carter, and Tom Golden, but she could have gone to anyone else on her own and convinced them to speak off the record."

"Like Vicky?" I said. "It's the kind of sound bite I could hear coming out of her mouth."

"Maybe," Ann said. "But I wouldn't worry about it. The quote will probably jack up your book sales."

"I'm thinking about Potts. He practically told me I had a 'lean and hungry look,' and now this."

"If he seems put out, I'll do my best to smooth it over."

"Thanks so much, Ann," I said gratefully. "I'd appreciate your help on that."

"Now that the story's out, you need to talk to security about the doll."

"I know."

It was time. I'd made one shift in my strategy, however. Instead of going directly to Oliver, I'd decided to fill Tom in first. That way he wouldn't feel that I'd sneaked around him again.

By the time I arrived at work that morning, there were two dozen emails from people congratulating me on the piece, everyone from my book editor to college friends to former colleagues. There was one from my father, too, making me catch my breath. "Terrific story," he wrote. "Very proud of you." I shouldn't have been shocked. He did email me occasionally-from the land of let's pretend.

The day took off at light speed after that. I sent Tom an email requesting a few minutes of his time, and he replied that because we were crashing two stories, it would have to wait until after the show.

Settling into the chair to have my hair done, I could feel a sense of dread ballooning. As much as I wanted company security on the case, it worried me, too. I was about to light a brush fire without knowing how much would ultimately burn.

"You ready for me?" I called over to Stacy while Jimmy sprayed my hair.

"Yup, all set," she said.

I'd tried to focus on my notes while my hair was being styled. As I slipped into Stacy's chair, I took a good look in the mirror for the first time. Despite my walk in the sunshine on Sat.u.r.day, I still looked pale as a jelly fish. "You're going to have to work your magic again," I said.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm on it."

I closed my eyes as she dabbed at my skin with a makeup wedge. Her touch was relaxing, settling my nerves a little. But after a moment I popped open my eyes and leaned forward.

"That's the same foundation you always use, right?" I said. I was starting to experience a tingly feeling all over my face.

"Yup. Remember, I'll add bronzer later."

"It just-"

The tingling was intensifying, verging on unpleasant.

"You okay?" Stacy asked.

"No," I exclaimed, jumping up.

My face was burning like h.e.l.l.

chapter 11.

No, no, I thought, this can't be happening.

I spun around one way and then the other, like a wildebeest with a bug boring through its ear.

"What's wrong?" Stacy exclaimed.

"I-I need tissues. My face feels like it's on fire." It was getting worse every second, as if I were walking into a furnace.

Stacy yanked a handful of tissues from a box and thrust them at me. As I swiped at my face with them, she bolted toward the big sink at the end of the room and jerked on the faucet. "Come here," she yelled.

I threw myself toward the sink.

"Don't worry about your hair," Stacy commanded. "Just get your face under the stream."

At first it stung when the water hit my skin, but after a few seconds I could feel the pain receding.

"You should wash your face, too," Stacy urged. "With something gentle." She grabbed a tube, told me to put out my hand, and squeezed a blob of cleanser onto it. As soon as I ma.s.saged it onto my face, it started to sting again. I splashed on more water and finally raised my head from the basin. Jimmy had scurried over and was hovering right next to us.

"It's turning red," Stacy exclaimed as she handed me a towel. It hurt to even touch the cloth lightly to my skin. I spun around toward the mirrored wall behind me. I caught sight of my face and gasped. It was not only red; a white coating seemed to be forming, like frost on a gla.s.s.

"Oh my gosh, are you allergic or something?" Jimmy said.

"You definitely used the regular foundation on me, right?" I said, ignoring him and looking at Stacy.

"Yes, of course," she said. "I've heard of people developing allergies over time, but not overnight. Look, we need to treat your face stat. And we should call a derm, too."

I followed her back to her station, where she yanked open a drawer and reached for another tube. "It's a post-peel cream, so it should help," she said. "Rub a little on while I try to reach the doctor. We've got one on call." She grabbed the wall phone and started to punch in the number.

"Wait a sec," I said as I dabbed the cream on my face. "First show me the exact foundation you used."

Stacy pointed to a familiar bottle at the front of the cluttered mix on the counter. I picked up the bottle and raised it to my nose. There was an odd odor, chemical-like. Something had been added since Stacy had last used the foundation on me. "Smell this," I told her.

She leaned a little closer to the bottle, took a whiff, and quickly pulled her head back."Yeah, that's weird," she said.

I glanced at Jimmy, who could barely contain his fascination with the scene. Stacy was a gossip, but she was in the bush leagues compared to a motormouth like him. "Jimmy, you need to give us a minute," I commanded.

"All right," he said. "But I've got a guest due."

"It's just a guy," Stacy said. "Do his hair in the greenroom."

"This makeup's been tampered with," I said as soon as Stacy and I were alone. "Have you seen anyone in here, touching this stuff?"

She frowned, looking even more worried. "No," she said. "But I only got in two hours ago. And the room is open all day. Should we call security?"

"I'll do that," I said. "But I'm going to go back to my office before anyone sees me. Let me know when you reach the doctor."

She nodded.

"Don't say anything to anyone, okay?" I added. "And put a gag on Jimmy."

I tore out of there, taking both the bottle and the tube of cream with me. As I flew down the hall with my head lowered, the linoleum floor seemed unfamiliar to me, as if I were racing down a corridor where I'd never been. Keiki was on the phone and didn't look up as I darted into my office.

I closed the door and sank into my desk chair. My pulse was racing even faster. I felt like someone who had just staggered out of her car after an accident on a freeway. This was different from the c.o.c.kroach and the books and the Barbie. I'd been injured. Someone had tried to physically harm me.

Get a grip, I told myself. I couldn't come unhinged.

I called Ann first, my hand beginning to tremble as I hit her number. Her a.s.sistant conveyed she was in a meeting but due back momentarily. I explained it was urgent and asked that she get a message to Ann. Then I called Tom. "I need to see you," I blurted out. "It's an emergency."

Less than a minute later, he was knocking at the door.

"Robin, what's going on?" he exclaimed as he took in my face. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay," I said.

I described what had happened with the foundation. Holding the bottle in a tissue, I lifted it to his nose for him to smell.

"You don't think it just went bad?" he said. "I've heard that beauty products have an expiration date."

"No," I insisted. "Because-other stuff has happened, too."

He pulled his head back. "What other stuff?" he said.

"Pranks, nasty things," I said. "Someone here wants to sabotage me."

Before I could elaborate, Keiki was opening the door to let Stacy in, and a second later, Ann appeared over her shoulder, shutting the door behind her. Ann's hand flew to her mouth when she saw my face.

"The doctor said she can see you as soon as you get there," Stacy said. "The office is on the Upper East Side."

I glanced quickly at my watch. "But she needs to come here. The show's in less than an hour."

"I asked, but she said she wouldn't know what to bring. She can't determine how to treat you until she sees your face."

"Then I'll have to go tomorrow morning." I turned back to Tom. "Stacy can cover up the red with makeup."