CARRYING HER NOTES, ERICA HEADS down the hall to hair and makeup. She already feels supported by Greg. What a pro he is. And what a fascinating man—where does that war-weary, knowing edge come from? And he’s strikingly attractive. She quickly pushes that thought away. Romance is simply not on her radar. This first year (at least) is all about work. And the vodka-soaked wounds of her failed marriage are still healing.
Not that she’s counting, but she’s been sober for one year, eleven months, and eleven days. She was working as the nighttime coanchor on a Boston station and probably drinking a little too much when she discovered Dirk’s affair. He said he wanted a divorce—and everything just spun out of control. She went from two glasses of wine a night to three cocktails to four cocktails to an all-vodka diet. Dirk moved out and took Jenny with him. Erica spent a month crashing around her empty house, drinking, cursing the world, and crying for her daughter. Then the station fired her for on-air intoxication. That pushed her right to the bottom and she did the unimaginable—and ended up in the hospital, under arrest. The judge gave her a choice of rehab or six months in jail. She took rehab, and something clicked at that first meeting. The surrender . . . the acceptance . . . the grace.
Erica took off six months to get clean, then pleaded her way into a job as a reporter for a small New Hampshire station. She scoured the hills and towns for interesting stories—and she delivered. Soon she was anchoring, and the station’s ratings soared. Boston wanted her back.
And then she got the call from Greg Underwood.
There is a hair and makeup station on each of GNN’s six floors; most have three chairs and two experts at the ready. When Erica arrives, all three chairs are empty and two women are standing by. One is middle-aged and Hispanic, carrying a few extra pounds, with a pleasant, open face, brown skin, and lovely, expertly made-up gray-green eyes; the other is young, pierced, tattooed, and bleached blonde.
“Good morning. I’m Erica Sparks.”
The older of the two women says, “I’m Rosario, and this is Andi.”
“What a pleasure to meet you both. And thank you in advance for helping me look my best.”
Rosario and Andi exchange a glance: nice lady. The vibe here is decidedly more relaxed than at the rest of the network.
Erica sits in the chair in front of the wall of mirrors. Rosario studies her face for a moment as Andi picks up a brush and gets to work on her hair.
“You’re beautiful,” Rosario says.
Erica smiles. She knows that her looks are a marketable commodity in the news business, but she also understands the limits of beauty. Looks may get you in the door but they won’t earn you your own show. And they can engender resentment and even subterfuge among colleagues who don’t have the same advantage.
“If possible, go easy. I hate that caked-on look,” Erica says.
Rosario picks up a small metal sprayer and proceeds to coat Erica’s face with a thin, translucent layer of makeup. Some genius invented the spray applicator after traditional makeup proved inadequate to the merciless clarity of high definition. Flaws that were once invisible on camera were suddenly there for the whole world to see. The sprayer erases them like magic. Then Rosario applies lipstick, a little eye shadow, and mascara. Meanwhile Andi magically doubles the volume of Erica’s hair and sweeps it back to frame her face.
As they work, Erica asks them about their families and how they ended up at GNN. They even manage to get in a little industry gossip. Erica realizes that Rosario and Andi must hear confessions, rumors, and plans all day long. They have their ears to the ground—and while Erica finds them warm and lively, they could also be valuable allies.
“I like you, Erica,” Rosario says as she brushes on a light powder. Then she leans in and lowers her voice. “Be careful around here.”
Erica is taken aback and looks at her quizzically. Rosario reaches over and turns on a hair dryer, adding under cover of its whirr, “Nylan Hastings is a strange man. He plays games. Be careful. Please.” She turns off the hair dryer and finishes the powdering as Andi gives Erica’s hair a final pass.
When they’re done, Erica looks in the mirror. The transformation is both subtle and striking. Her eyes have never looked bluer, her cheekbones more sculpted, or her hair fuller or glossier.
“Very pretty,” comes a honeyed voice from over Erica’s shoulder as a tall brunette strides into view. “I’m Claire Wilcox. Welcome to GNN.”
Erica catches the look that Rosario and Andi exchange. She gets out of the chair and extends her hand. “Erica Sparks. What a pleasure. I’m a fan.”
It’s true—she is a fan of Wilcox’s prime-time show, a fast-paced mix of hard news and human-interest stories. Claire has been with the network since its launch and is its biggest star, although her ratings are erratic. Tall and thin with a killer body, shrewd brown eyes, hair so thick it must be extension-enhanced, and a face that looks more angular in person than on-screen—she radiates drive, intensity, and a buttery charm. Chilled butter.
Claire steps past Erica and sits in the makeup chair with a proprietary air. The two women make eye contact in the mirror. “I hear you’ve scored three hundred seconds with Kate Middleton.”
How did Claire learn that so quickly? What pulse does she have her finger on? Erica takes note: there are no secrets at GNN and word travels like wildfire.
Just be careful. Please.
“I have, yes,” Erica answers.
“Good luck getting five interesting words out of her. She’s the plastic princess, a yawn in a tailored suit. The Royal Family was determined not to have a second Diana. I think they overcorrected.” Claire examines herself in the mirror, turning her head from side to side. “I have Chelsea Clinton on tonight. She has some substance. And Diane Von Furstenberg is giving us a sneak peek at her fall collection.” Claire drops eye contact and turns to Rosario and Andi. “Girls, work your magic.”
Erica stands there, slightly stunned by Claire’s energy and nerve. The woman is a force of nature. Good. Having a colleague that sharp will only force her to up her own game. Still, there’s something feral and predatory about Claire that unsettles Erica.
Focus on yourself.
She heads back down the hall, determined to get more than five interesting words out of the duchess.