Read Online The Reporter by Kelly Lange - Free Book Online Page B

newscaster
     Maxi Poole. Oh well, it had been a fun day.
    But he did call, and he kept calling, and she lived for his calls. Every time they got together she fell harder. His wife
     was busy all the time, he told her. Maxi worked late, Jack got up early—their sex life was not exactly an Olympic event, he’d
     confided. “Frankly, Scarlett, she just doesn’t turn me on the way my Zahna does, know what I mean? Spit in my face,” he’d
     beg. “C’mon, Zahna, I’m your Roman soldier, I’m going to rape you, spit in my face….”
    She knew what she had with him; she was nobody’s fool. Still, he kept showing up, and she couldn’t resist him. The day would
     come, she’d tell herself, when he would realize that he was getting a lot better in the little house on Sumac Drive than he
     was getting at home, and he would leave Ms. Newsbitch and come to Zahna—and unlike his other two wives, she would know how
     to keep him happy.
    Zahna Cole’s time was due, she was sure of that. She’d had too many lousy relationships, and now she was alone, not getting
     any younger, and doing this dopey job. She had come to Los Angeles with moondust in her eyes. She was going to be a singer,
     make it big. Everybody said she was good, she was beautiful, she was gonna be a rock ‘n’ roll diva. Now, sixteen years later,
     she had dead-ended on all fronts, doing yeoman’s service on a local FM station for thirty-six-five a year and spending half
     of it ondrugs. Her ship was due to come in, and she was sure that sexy Jack Nathanson was at the helm.
    “Here’s Usher, with ‘You Remind Me,’ she breathed into the mike. “This one’s for Linda, comin’ atcha from Steve. He says he’s
     your man, Linda; he loves ya, baby….”
    Where was
her
man? No more man. Going on midnight and her lights were nearly out. Just fifteen more minutes, then collapse city. Well,
     drive the clunker home and then collapse. Good thing there wasn’t much traffic this late, couldn’t handle it tonight….
    Came the day his second marriage broke up, hallelujah, it was Zahna’s turn. He moved into a rental house in Bel Air, and she
     had a clear shot now. For the first time in the two years they’d had together,
she
could go to
his
house. When his kid was at her mother’s, they’d get stoned, romp around naked, ball each other’s brains out, and sleep till
     noon the next day in
his
bed. Those days were nirvana.
    But they weren’t for long. Jack would go for weeks without seeing her. When he’d finally take her call, he’d complain that
     he’d been really busy. One midnight, after she got off the air and was hurting bad, she drove over to his house, like he used
     to show up at her house in his married days. “Just took a chance, babe,” he’d say. His big Spanish manse was all lit up—it
     looked like a party was going on. She pressed the bell.
    “Who is it?” came his annoyed voice over the intercom.
    “Surprise—it’s your Zahna. I just took a chance, cuz I’ve got some very good blow—”
    “I’m asleep, hon; got an early call.”
    “Oh, come on, half an hour.
I’ll
put you to sleep, stud. I came allaway over the friggin’ canyon—”
    “Can’t do it, too beat; call you tomorrow, babe.” Click. Over and out.
    A couple of weeks later, a friend told her she’d seen him at a Beverly Hills restaurant—he was with that agent Janet Orsonand another couple. He was still having sex with Zahna every now and then. No restaurants, no dinners with friends, no plays,
     no concerts, no gala parties with the movie crowd—just sex. He just wanted to be alone with her, he’d say, not out at some
     boring hoo-ha making small talk with people he didn’t care about; c’mon, baby, suck my dick, pretty please….
    She asked him about Janet Orson. Janet Orson was his new agent, he’d said. It was business.
    Then she read in the
L.A. Times
that Janet Orson and Jack Nathanson got married in the Caribbean. But two weeks after that he