Headliners

[Babe In Jello]

Shana Riley sat at her desk at the Lincoln Sun’s main office in Caliente, NV. She was amazed at the sheer number of sticky notes that managed to pile up on her blotter in the mere twenty minutes it took for her to run out to lunch. She sipped at her Dr. Pepper, idly contemplating the apocalyptic consequences of her actually taking a full lunch. The hour alone would surely result in a landslide of precut yellow paper, if not some other major natural disaster.

Logic was rarely applied in her style of journalism, for real life was truthfully stranger than fiction. Thus the fact that most of her headliner stories stemmed from an odd lead here or a non sequitur conversation there. The majority of these seemed of little relevance to others, but to Shana could be the scrap of truth that helped completely the endless puzzles she solved daily. Deciding to give straight logic a chance to prove itself useful, she started with the top note, working her way down.

Jefferson needs your notes from the McClesson hearing yesterday
-Surely… she grabbed a paperclip and put it between her teeth so she wouldn’t lose it on the clutter of her desk. Slipping a copy of the menu from a new Greek restaurant she had been raving about to him for the last week on top of the pile, she clipped them together, jotted his name across the top, and tossed it in her Out box.

KROK needs another guest speaker for some news-related issues, Friday morning’s wake-up show. Interested?
-No sweat, any exposure is good exposure in journalism.

Call Machiveli and try to reschedule that interview…Cathy might have some more info on that one for you.
-One of the big shots had tried to get his company’s comments on the possibility of fraud in their recently acquired Lincoln County’s building contract. And of course, when their needs weren’t satisfied immediately, the mediocre writing and half-assed attempt at research had fallen into her lap.

Cradling the phone against her shoulder, she dialed the number given to her and got up out of her chair to walk to the large window. A bored-sounding woman picked up the phone and stated drearily that Shana had reached the offices of Machiveli Construction.

“This is Shana Riley with the Lincoln Sun, is Mr. Machiveli available?”

The secretary snapped her gum loudly and hit a few keys on a clicky keyboard before finally answering.

“One moment.”

For Phoenix!

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

Nicholas "Big Nick" Machiavelli:

I'd about had it with all of the crap from the media about the Lincoln County building contract. The next person who approached me about it, after that last ditzy broad botched and misquoted me, would pay the price for them all.

I'd been in construction since I dropped out of high school. I'd gone back to night school and gotten my diploma when I realized working with my hands and having a damned strong back wouldn't give me all I wanted.

Then I'd gone to the community college and gotten a A.A. in business management and also taken their contractors course and passed my state test to become a certified building contractor. All before I made it to twenty-seven.

Now I was thirty-eight. I owned the biggest contracting company in the county, hell in this and all of the surrounding counties as far as that goes. I also learned really fast it's good business to buy from yourself so I also own a lumber yard, a concrete/concrete block plant and a wholesale house for any and all hardware needs I may have.

I still hold my union cards in two unions from my working days and pay my dues to both. In fact I go once a quarter to some site and work with my men.

No one's gonna say Nick askes his guys to do things he won't, can't or doesn't do too. It shows in my minimal turn over and employee loyalty to me first and then the company. I have the final say on any problems and I handle them all as if it was me having the problem.

Now I had one. This sealed bid rigging, bribery bull shit has finally gotten to me and by any and all the Gods if I hear one more fucking word about it from any god be damned media types I'll go back to the bad old days and they'll pay for all of the crap I hear, see and read almost every fuckin' day, unless they have rock solid evidence to show me that is.

 

[Babe In Jello]

Shana

Shana hung on the phone, waiting patiently for a spark of life on the other end. Patience was one of the few skills she had had to practice in journalism. Curiosity and creativity were both very much in her veins.

There had been numerous other attempts to back Machiavelli into a corner and make him slip on his words. One incriminating sentence would be enough to sate the media for days, and having his self-indicting quote plastered on headlines would certainly be satisfying for the political leaders that wanted to see him topple.

But despite their valiant efforts, the interviews had revealed only the same cold, calculated, impersonal, and decidedly rehearsed speech. It surprised her that a man so infamous for his temper could be so cool and immovable under pressure.

Shana was determined to make him crack.

Everyone else had tackled the problem head-on, and been met by his strong, prearranged defenses. She would, instead, walk quietly in through the back door. Everyone, after all, had secrets to hide…even if they weren’t about a big-time scandal.

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

Nick Machevelli:

"Hello Nick here. What can I do for you today?"

'If this 'talking head' gives me any shit about the building contract she's mine and damned sure will pay for it for quite a long time.'

 

[Babe In Jello]

Shana

“Hi Nick, this is Shana Riley with the Lincoln Sun,” she paused, waiting for his reply, and when none came she continued on.

“You’re quite a difficult man to get a hold of. I hope this isn’t an inconvenient time, but we’d like to sink our claws into you and get more of an interview than you’re handing out to the others. This would be strictly a chance for you to tell your point of view – we want the truth, and the political pointing-fingers bullshit is usually below us.”

Clicking her nails against the arm of her chair as was her nervous habit, she paged through her calendar.

“If you’d like to do this over the phone, we can, but face-to-face really works better for this kind of thing. But I’m sure you’re familiar with the routine by now. In fact, I’m surprised you’re not doing the talk show circuit with all that’s happened recently. Tonight works for me if you’re interested…or anytime tomorrow. We don’t want to make this an inconvenience for you.”

Taking a breath, she continued with her speech.

“And let me remind you, we have the largest reader circulation in Southern Nevada. This could do wonders for your public rep, Nick.”

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

Nick Machiavelli

'Fucking that's it. Bitch you're the first to pay for all this bullshit and probably not the last unless..."

"Well, Shana, what kind of solid proof, if any, of any wrong doing on my part do you have?
"If you've got any bring a copy along with you. I'd really like to see it.
"I haven't granted any interviews as you know, since getting ripped up quoted out of context and misquoted last time. However, I'll tell ya what. You don't tell anyone you're gonna meet me so that there can't be any leaks, bring what you have and I'll meet ya tomorrow night, in Reno.
"Park your car in the lot at the Log Cabin Casino and at 9 o'clock turn on your 4-way flashers. I'll pull up behind you. Turn the flashers off and come with me and I'll give you what you need."

'Fucking right I will. All you need bitch.'