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“It was Ned Bennett,” Fern said in a small voice. “His being here threw me for a loop.”
“What exactly did you think you would accomplish by bringing him here?” Cat asked, shifting her arms across her chest.
“I didn’t, I wouldn’t,” Fern stammered. “I’ve spent the last ten years trying to get that day out of my mind and I can’t. I’ll never forget his face and he didn’t even recognize me.”
Cat gave her a hard look and laughed, a hoarse bark that held no humor. “You think that Ned Bennett cared who you were? You were just one of many stupid, naive girls who were dumb enough to go into his office alone and let him shut the door.”
Fern could almost feel the way Ned had pressed his fingers to her throat, his hot, wet breath in her ear. The way he lifted her skirt with his sterling silver letter opener, its sharp blade biting into her thigh.
“I’m not stupid,” Fern shot back, angrily. “It wasn’t my fault. He would have raped me.” She blinked back tears. She refused to cry in front of Cat, who had zero patience for tears.
“Probably,” Cat said matter-of-factly. “But I stopped him, didn’t I? I protected you, took you away from there. And now I’ve been stuck with you ever since, cleaning up your messes.” She pointed to a few stray shards of glass Fern had missed. “This is exactly why I should have handled all the arrangements. I knew you’d screw it up. If you didn’t invite him, there must have been a leak.”
“I’ll send him home. Tell him there was some kind of mistake,” Fern said, reaching down to gather up the last of the glass, snagging a finger on one jagged shard. Bright red blood oozed from the wound. She tightened her fingers into a fist, feeling blood puddle into her palm.
“That’s the last thing we should do,” Cat said sharply. “You know Ned. He’s a baby and a publicity whore. He’d milk this for everything it’s worth and drag the show down in the process. No,” Cat said with finality. “Ned stays. We’re just going to have to make the best of it. Besides, he’s famous and is a good draw for the show. Hopefully he won’t remember you.”
Fern stood there, mouth agape. Cat didn’t care how Ned’s sudden appearance affected her. All she cared about was the show and ratings. Maybe Fern should just quit. Leave right now. Leave Cat with no host, no errand girl, no servant to do her bidding. What would Cat do then?
One Lucky Winner would fail, fall apart. Cat’s dream of having a hit reality show would collapse, the investors would pull out, and Cat would be humiliated. The vision of her boss being skewered online and in the press sounded pretty good. I quit would be the two most powerful words she could utter right now.
“I’m sorry,” Fern mumbled instead, the cut on her finger throbbing. She’d probably need stitches. But whom was she kidding? If One Lucky Winner imploded, it wouldn’t be Cat who took the fall, the one to be blacklisted, disgraced. It would be Fern. Wasn’t it always the underling who suffered? Fern would never work again. “I won’t let him get to me again. I just don’t understand why he’s here.”
“That makes two of us,” Cat said. “But I’ll figure it out. And I swear to God, Fern, if I find out you were behind this, I am going to kill you.”
“I didn’t...” Fern began, but Cat held up a perfectly manicured finger to shush her.
“Now I’m going to have to make some calls and somehow get a new host on such short notice. We’ll probably have to delay production by a day,” Cat said furiously.
“No,” Fern said, the word catching roughly. “I can do it. I promise.”
“That’s the thing, Fern,” Cat said, moving to brush past her. “I don’t think you can.”
“Wait,” Fern said, snagging Cat’s arm. “Give me a chance, I’ll prove it to you. Just one chance.”
Cat tried to shake off Fern’s grasp, but Fern held tight. Cat’s eyes flashed angrily as she stared Fern down. Sheepishly, Fern released Cat’s arm, leaving blood behind from the cut on her finger. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Cat looked down at her ruined sweater with disdain, then shrugged out of it, tossing it atop the bar.
Cat stepped past her and, with Fern close behind, hurried into the corridor.
“And you left the wine cellar door open? Really?” Cat asked aloud, stepping into the cellar.
Fern followed her inside, desperate to explain. Above them, a skittering sound came from the ceiling vent. Squirrels or mice. Fern shivered. Despite its cache of expensive wine, it was nothing but a dim, damp cave.
“What I don’t think you understand, Fern,” Cat said, her voice dripping with faux patience, “is that you are an assistant. And that is all you will ever be, all that you will ever be capable of being.”
Fern’s breath lodged in her throat. How could someone be so dismissive, so cruel? Fern had been grateful to Cat for walking into Ned’s office that day, for derailing whatever was going to happen next, but hadn’t Fern paid her back the best way she could? She worked upward of twelve hours a day, seven days a week. She didn’t date, didn’t have friends. Her entire world was Cat.
No. Things couldn’t end this way. Slowly, Fern moved from the cellar, leaving Cat behind and pausing just outside the door to look at her mentor. Fern had always hoped that one day she would prove her worth to Cat, that maybe, just maybe, she would see her as a colleague, maybe even a partner. That obviously was never going to happen.
“I can’t believe I spent so much time, so many years trying to make you into something...” Cat said, looking Fern up and down, “better than this. What a fucking waste of space,” she finished dismissively.
So there it was. Cat couldn’t have made how she truly felt about Fern clearer. She was nothing but a hopeless disappointment, something to be cast aside like garbage. A cold anger formed a fist in her chest. It wasn’t right, the way that Cat treated her. It needed to stop. Now.
“You’re wrong,” Fern said, her voice tremulous. “I’m the one who spent hours calling contractors and the caterers. I’m the one who made all the travel arrangements for the contestants and the crew.” Her voice gathered strength. “I made sure that every single detail was perfect and I did it all for you. All to make you happy.”
Cat crossed her arms across her chest and looked at Fern expectantly. “Are you finished?” she asked.
