Sellevision - Augusten Burroughs [35]
“Thanks for having me,” Michelle said. “I hope you both have a wonderful, um, life, I guess. Okay, good-bye.”
“Bye-bye,” Bebe and Joyce said in unison, just as a SOLD OUT graphic appeared over the Joyce’s Choice Get Started Kit banner on the far lefthand side of the screen.
“That item has sold out, so congratulations to everyone who purchased it. I think you’ll be very happy. Up next: Joyce’s Choice Crows Away! under-eye gel. But first, coming up on Sunday, Don from the Good Morning Show will be talking with author and trend forecaster Faith Popcorn about her brandnew programmable popcorn popper that lets you pop tomorrow’s popcorn today! If you’re a busy snacker, you won’t want to miss this presentation.”
Both Joyce and Bebe smiled into the camera, waiting for the cutaway to the FuturePop Popcorn Popper.
“God, I have a pathetic existence,” Max said as he watched Don demonstrate the appliance. Enough was enough. As he turned off the television and went to his hall closet for his leather bomber jacket, Max made a promise to himself: In two weeks he would either have a great new job or a great new boyfriend. Max had believed in Creative Visualization ever since they did Shakti Gawain incense holders on the show and she had made an appearance.
He wondered if Shakti did personal consultations.
C
hecking the hosts’ schedule for the week, Trish noticed that she had mostly midday slots and only a few prime-time jewelry showcases. Peggy Jean was still hogging the limelight. And Leigh certainly wasn’t hurting for hours.
At first, she had believed that her trip to London was just the beginning of her rise within Sellevision. Now it seemed things had reached a plateau. Things, she thought, were just not moving fast enough.
In her office, Trish checked her E-mail. She was not pleased to see that she had fifty-seven E-mails from viewers. Eight less than she had received after her last on-air appearance two days before. Fewer quality hours, fewer E-mails. Even her Price Waterhouse fiancé now seemed like a compromise. Maybe her father was right, maybe Steve was too short, too meek, too poor, and too, well, ordinary for her. Maybe she was settling.
After reading her E-mail, Trish decided to give a quick call to Peggy Jean at home. One of Peggy’s little boys answered, and Trish said, “Hi, is your mom home?”
The little boy dropped the phone on a tabletop and screamed, “Mom, telephone, I’m going outside.”
A moment later, Peggy Jean picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hi, Peggy Jean, it’s Trish.”
“Oh, hi, Trish, how are you?”
“I’m fine. Listen, I just wanted to ask you something. I’m at the office and I was just reading over my E-mails, and I got a kind of a weird one.”
Silence, then, “Go on . . .”
“Well, what was that person’s name? The one who was sending you all those nasty notes?”
“Zoe, her name was Zoe. Why, Trish, tell me—did you get one too?”
“Shoot, that’s what her name was. I knew it was a Z name. No, mine is from some person named Zonda.”
“Oh, no. Mine is Zoe, definitely Zoe.”
“All right, I just couldn’t remember the name, that’s all. Anyway, it’s nothing, it’s not offensive or anything, just a little strange. Sorry to bother you at home.”
“No problem,” Peggy Jean said.
“By the way, you were wonderful in Milan. Did you get any sight-seeing in?”
“Heavens, no. You know how draining international travel is. I’m still quite jet-lagged.”
“Well, just try to relax as much as you can before you come back to the office.”
“Yes, I will. And thanks for calling, Trish,” she said and hung up.
Odd, Peggy Jean thought. Why would Trish call her at home? Trish had never phoned her before. She bit into a vanilla Slim Fast bar. It didn’t seem normal for Trish to act so caring toward her. Could Trish be Zoe? Was she capable of such evil? Peggy Jean chewed slowly as she contemplated. Then she threw the wrapper in the trash. The strawberry Slim Fasts were much better than the vanilla, that much she knew for sure.