Boss Girl

And my grand little experiment was about to take on a life of its own.

"Oh, one more very important thing," added Amanda. "We're going to be known as the Consolidated Group from now on. And you'll see why down the road."

Neely gave me a gentle elbow. "I can understand why you're here Syd, but what are we doing here?"

"I'm glad you all seem so receptive to the idea," said Amanda. "And I think America will feel the same way. When the fall rolls around, you won't be able to recognize this network. Everything will be new. Every single show now on the air has been cancelled, and most will be yanked off the air immediately. We're basically rebooting, rolling out a new network, which is another reason for the name change. And that brings me to the second part of our plan, which entails synergy with the news division." She turned toward me and smiled. "And that's why we needed you here, Sydney, along with the news directors of our major market stations."

Neely, Rica and Jillian all sat up straight and leaned forward in unison, as if on cue.

Then Amanda dropped the bombshell.

"We're going to launch a 24-hour cable network based here in New York. And I'm asking the four of you to run it."

* * *

"Oh, we're definitely having an agenda on this network," said Amanda, who speared a forkful of grilled salmon that was drenched in bourbon sauce.

Aw, shit. There goes paradise.

"Republican or Democrat?" I asked, suddenly losing my appetite at the prospect of tormenting the American public with political scream-fests. The petite sirloin that had just arrived was still spitting at me, sending out a call to my growling stomach.

She shook her head as she chewed her salmon. The brightly lit midtown restaurant was still crowded at two o'clock, and loud, filled with too many business people talking either to each other, on their cell phones, or both. The bar was elbow-to-elbow with men who were maintaining their liquid diets during lunch, while watching a rare Mets day game and cheering the occasional good play. Amanda flagged down a young waiter and pointed to her empty wine glass. He nodded at her, smiled and disappeared into the kitchen where he was swallowed up by the sound of clanging plates and silverware. Finally she took a sip of water and gave me my answer. "Nothing so pedestrian as politics, Syd. Let the other networks go right or left and alienate half the audience. Our only agenda is women. Women over thirty are the target demo specifically, but women overall. Remember, young women will eventually become older. In the back of our viewers' minds, subliminally, must be the concept that men are simple playthings, just accessories that any woman can have, like a designer purse. Just as the shoes must match the dress, the younger man must match the older woman. No knock-offs, either. The men must be the real thing, the dream guy, not something they'd settle for to avoid a life as a spinster with a houseful of cats. All you have to do is time-warp yourselves back fifty years to the days of weather bunnies on the news, when women stayed home and did all the cooking and cleaning, and men routinely slept with their secretaries. Then just reverse the sexes. It's that simple. And that's what I want from you. That's what our viewers will want from the network once they get a taste of it. We're going to turn the damn country upside down in the bedroom, and the boardroom. Let the world know women have had enough, that we're taking over, and we're changing the rules for good. It's a seller's market, and we're the only store in town. If you're a man, and you want sex, you play by our rules. And we take what we want."

"You know," said Jillian, stabbing a bit of her blackened chicken salad and pointing her fork at Amanda, "I think I like her."

"Fuhgeddaboudit," said Rica. "I'm in love."

An attractive young man walked by our table while his eyes made the rounds. He locked on Neely, who smiled back at him. Then she turned back to Amanda. "So, what you're basically saying is that women are the new men," said Neely.

"Oooh, I love that," said Amanda, grinning wide. "And there needs to be an underlying tone in the broadcast as well. I mean, you still need anchor teams like the ones you have in your stations, but the stories all have to reflect our agenda. You can't just do a regular style newscast. The product has to have a lifestyle feel to it. Viewers need to sense that women are in control of everything and that men are—"

"Oooh, oooh!" Neely put up her hand and waved, chewing fast, making us all wait till she swallowed. She gulped, took a swig of water, and almost jumped out of her chair. "I've got it! Men are the new women!"

"Yes! I think I love that even more," said Amanda. "Neely, we might have to turn you loose on the promotions department."

"So basically it's all women, all the time," I said.

"Twenty-four seven," Amanda said as she nodded. "If I turn on our news network at four in the morning, I want to see a hot middle-aged woman with… what did you call them?"

"Trophy bucks," said Jillian, through a mouthful of lettuce.

"Right," said Amanda. "And I want to see a story talking about the lifestyle that is possible for a woman who takes charge. Viewers need to come away with that notion when they're done watching."

"Oh, Amanda," said Rica, "I meant to ask you something. What are we going to be calling the news channel?"

Amanda's face lit up. "Well, I was saving that for down the road, but since you guys are going to be running the thing…" Her eyes sparkled. "This is the best part, and it's going to leave no doubt as to our agenda. We're the Consolidated Group Report. But we're just going to call the channel CGR."

Oh, you gotta be kidding. "C…G…R?" I asked, speaking each letter slowly.

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Get it?"

"Not exactly a brainteaser for the Jumble," said Rica. "If you're a woman who can't figure that out, you shouldn't be watching anyway."

"I like it. It's really sort of in your face," said Jillian.

"Subtlety is not my strong suit," said Amanda. "In business or in life."

My appetite switch turned back on. Suddenly I was ravenous and attacked my steak, savoring the hot, juicy rare beef that had been seasoned with fresh peppercorns and topped with garlic butter. I saw in Amanda a woman who was supremely confident in what we were about to do, and I liked her immensely. We all did. She was obviously very smart and had a plan that made sense, incredible as it was. If it actually worked, it really would change the face of broadcasting.

That face wore eye shadow and bright red lipstick. That face was over thirty and might even have a few character lines. It would speak words that told the world who was in charge.

But I couldn't help but wonder.

Had Madison briefed Amanda on our benefits package and reference checking?

"Amanda," I said, wiping my mouth with my white cloth napkin and dropping it back in my lap, then folding my hands. "I need to ask you about—"

She put up her hand and stopped me. "Syd, I don't care how you hire people or anything about any… arrangements… you might have. Yes, I've read the tabloids. Madison told me how the system works. The point is, it works very well. I could care less if you turn your offices into Caligula's palace as long as you deliver the product we need. No one's going to give it a second thought if ratings are good. Put anyone that you like on your to-do list."

I relaxed and sank back into my seat. I could see my girls all doing the same.

Hello, Jason? Yeah, we're still good to go for tonight…

A young, attractive waiter with light brown hair, deep-set blue eyes and a strong chin arrived with a bottle of wine and began to refill Amanda's glass as she quickly glanced down the length of his body and back up again. "Would you all like to see the dessert cart?" he asked. "The tiramisu is fantastic."

Amanda lightly put her hand on the man's hip, then tilted her neck so she could get a better view of the man's tight backside. "What I want isn't on the menu," she said, staring up into his eyes. She reached into her purse, pulled out a business card, wrote a number on the back, and handed it to the waiter. He looked at it, turned it over, and smiled.

"I get off at nine tonight," he said.

"Apparently, so do I," said Amanda, who locked her eyes on the waiter's.

Whoa. And I thought we were slick.

Eyes widened and jaws dropped around the table as the young man nodded, dropped the check on the table, mouthed "see you then" and walked away.

"Oh, you're smooth, Hollywood," said Rica.

"Long flights wipe me out," said Amanda, swirling her wine around in the glass. "A little… exercise… always perks me up. He looks like a good workout buddy."

"You know what they say. No pain, no gain," said Jillian. "Go for the burn."

Now I was the one who wanted details. "So Amanda, are you—"

"I wouldn't call myself a cradle robber," said Amanda, "but I do primarily date younger guys, and I tend to think of men as Kleenex."

"One blow and y'all are done?" asked Neely, laying on the accent pretty thick. Everyone laughed.

"Neely, you really do have a future in promotions," said Amanda, shaking her head as she finished her wine.