"Morgan, Cynthia - The Hitmaker" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morgan Cynthia)

"Good." Small towns were the most popular locales for CV, but they were the least likely to show the right twenty-four-hour profile of activity. Fortunately, there was a plant nearby that employed several of the locals on its evening and night shifts.

"Martinson thought so. That was him on the. phone just now. He wants us back in L.A. tonight, for a party. He thinks we have reason to celebrate."

They celebrated again in late October, when it was apparent they'd won the ratings race. This time, instead of a dozen people at Martinson's Bel-Air home, there were several hundred, and the party was held atop the ATN Building in Los Angeles. The weather was so mild, the translucent panels that usually shielded the rooftop garden had been removed. The music was just loud enough to cover the din of traffic twenty stories below.

Jordan hated these parties, but he was

expected to attend. He'd made his obligatory speech and listened to the others. There'd been praise for him and for Sharon, and the usual bows toward Carl Martinson. No one had mentioned the main reason for their success this season, as in past years: The opposition had dealt themselves out of the game early. CBS had opted for scenery, a picture-postcard Vermont hamlet so dull that the sponsors had demanded its cancellation before three weeks were out; it was replaced by game shows and movies, until a new location could be found. ABC, with its choice of an urban neighborhood, had misjudged the importance of conflict in CV television; it was next to last. NTS, which had selected a Florida Gulf Coast village, had led the ratings for a few weeks. Then it was discovered that the eight beachcombers sharing a house that had been the site's main attraction were actors and actresses sent to the area two years earlier at network expense; they were gone now, and so was the threat that the series had posed. ATN had a forty-five share of the CV audience. NBC's Utah mining town ran a poor second, with a thirty share.

Jordan stayed as long as he thought was necessary, then began to make his way toward the elevator. He was nearly there when Martinson stopped him.

"Jordan, you're not leaving already?"

Caught off guard, Barrett mumbled something about not feeling well, but Martinson remained standing in his path.

"I thought you looked tired," the pro
gramming chief said. "I'm amazed at the amount of work you and Sharon put into these series."

"The worst is over for the year. The script's done. There haven't been any problems. We can take it easier now."

"For the rest of the year."

Barrett nodded, suddenly wary.

"Then you have to start searching for a new location in January."

The producer shrugged. "So it goes."

"Have you thought about extending the series for another year?"

Jordan stared at him. NTS had tried it two years before. The show had sunk without a trace a week into the new season, not even retaining its old audience.

"It's been done before. It didn't work."

"You mean at NTS? But their show wasn't as popular as ours."

"I'm not sure that would make any difference, once a came up against fresh competition from the other networks."

"We won't know for certain unless we try."

"So you're going to ask for an extension of the contract?"

"Not if you're opposed to it, Jordan. It's your decision. But I hate to see you and Sharon putting so much time into the series each year. I'd like you to think about it at least."

And shoulder the responsibility for it if it

fails, Jordan thought, but his anger was held in check by pity. Martinson, while superficially jovial, was a frightened man. He saw the