“I’m not sure I want them to do that.” Noah lifted his glass, dropped his head back, and downed the last of his tequila.
“Excuse me?” Ziggy glared.
“You said so yourself. Control the narrative.” He cocked his head. “I’m sure my dad’s manipulating her. I bet when they listen to his calls and read his mail, they’ll find a couple of crazies who think they’re in love with him. And I’m sure he’s stringing them along. I’m also sure that Claire is one of them.” Noah rolled his neck. “I don’t know exactly what I did to set my father off, but he doesn’t want to destroy me by having women call me out on bogus bad behavior. He wants to call me out for something on my own show. He thinks he’s got an ace up his sleeve, but we’ve got a bigger one.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” Jag said.
“I want to get the station to rearrange my schedule. I want to put my dad on my show, live from prison. And I want Claire there, too.”
“That’s insane,” Ziggy’s voice screeched.
“I don’t think so.” Noah’s heart raced. Not the bad kind. It was the kind of beat that he had right before a big show. That mix of excitement and fear that came with the job where shit could go wrong, and it would unfold live, where he couldn't stop it if he tried. “I can guarantee that my dad wants to be the one to announce he’s my father. I can flip that right off the bat. And then, I keep doing what I do best and get him to tell the truth he’s hiding. The setup and the reason behind it.”
“Now, who’s brilliant?” Ziggy smiled.
“Don’t you think that’s a dangerous game when you’re the one who’s potentially in the hot seat?” Callie asked.
“Every time I do my show, I take a risk that I’m not going to get the truth. That I’m going to lead the horse, but he’s not going to drink. And it’s happened a few times. But the one thing I know about my dad is that he doesn’t know what to do when the tables are turned. It’s one of the reasons he ended up admitting to killing all those women. The prosecutor had him right where she wanted him, and my dad fell for it. I learned more from her that day about how to play that game than from anyone else.”
“How fast do you want it to happen?” Jag glanced at his phone. “And can your staff keep it under wraps?”
“No way could I make it happen tomorrow. Too much red tape, but I can make it happen next week. And yeah, my director and programming would keep it quiet if it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“What about how it affects one of the other shows?” Callie asked. “And will your dad keep it quiet, because he also has to agree to it.”
“Oh, my father won’t say a word, because if he does, I’ll tell him I’m pulling the plug. And I’m sure I can get the station to sign off.” Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “In order to get a better picture of what’s been happening, I’d want to see the correspondence and hear the phone calls between my dad and Claire.”
“Even if Brian gets them, he might not let you see them. Even as his son, you’re still a member of the press, and you have no reason to view them,” Jag said.
“Do you think he’ll at least speak with me?”
“I’m sure he will. I just don’t know how much he’ll tell you.” Jag leaned against the counter. “If it were me, I’d keep pretty tight-lipped until the case was over. Too many ways that could come back to bite him in the ass.”
“Makes sense.” Noah nodded. “I’m sorry, but I need to go. I need to start working on this.” He glanced toward Ziggy. “Are you staying or?—”
“Like you even have to ask that question.” She turned and snagged her bag off the far counter. “It’s going to be a long few days.” She hugged and kissed her brother and Callie, then followed Noah out the door.
He paused by the car. “Are you sure you’re on board with this?”
“I’ve been on board for five years.”
16
Ziggy chomped on her fingernail as she paced in front of Noah’s desk, staring at her black shoes as they sank into the plush carpet. She hadn't meant to keep pacing when she entered, but when she looked at the chair, she couldn’t bring her legs to stop moving.
Maybe it was because the office walls seemed to shrink inward from all sides.
Everything at the station seemed different today. The elevator had slowed to a glacial crawl. The coffee maker took twice as long to drip a full mug.
And now, Noah’s office had a weird vibe. It didn’t matter that it was the same desk, same chairs, same wall of framed accolades Noah pretended didn't matter—the Peabody slightly crooked because she'd bumped it.
In less than an hour, the announcement would hit the morning show.
Unfiltered with Noah Chase.
Live from prison.
Interview with Matias Salazar.