Up Close and Personal

UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL

by

Jayson Leigh

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or locations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the Author's consent.

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who read this story when it was published many years ago. I got lots of emails over the years asking about Shane and Leo. And it eventually got me thinking, whatever did happen to Shane and Leo. And then I got to writing and well, here we are again... It's the same story with a little extra thrown in. It is complete and I will post one or two chapters a week until it's done. Comments, thoughts and questions are always welcome – jmleighwrites@gmail.com.

CHAPTER 1

Broken

The day was grey and despite being the first day of spring, incredibly cold. Shane called out hello to the crowd of clamoring fans just beyond the roped off production area, his breath frosting with every word. He shrugged off the heavy winter coat and turned around so a sound technician could wire his microphone. Someone from craft services handed him a cup of coffee, which he gratefully accepted as he came to stand next to the creator and executive producer of the show, Bill Baxter, who was huddled in on himself. He was gray-haired, goateed and looking quite glum as they watched the production crew fiddle with lights and props.

It had been great idea last week, when someone suggested an outdoor show for the first day of spring. No one anticipated the unseasonable chill that was hiding just around the corner. Shane shuffled his prompt cards into order and considered how after so months of snow, he was more than ready for the spring thaw.

"I miss my office," Bill muttered, his breath clouding up the air as he sighed loudly.

Shane nodded, sipping his coffee before blurting out a question weighing heavily on not just him, but the entire cast and crew of Up Close and Personal that morning. "What the hell are we doing out here?"

Bill pulled his scarf tightly around his neck and shrugged. "Beats me."

After a moment's silence, Shane pressed on, "I know our ratings are falling but..."

"The Breakfast Show's been gaining on us," Bill said. "And they finally overtook us across key demographics. You know that's all the network cares about, younger viewers."

Shane stared out into the grey dreariness of the morning. He suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of frustration. They'd been working hard to combat their falling ratings to no end and now they were running out of ideas... Like an outdoor show was really going to attract more viewers... Although trips to Hawaii and Australia had done wonders for some other morning shows... Still, they didn't have the budget of network shows. Up Close and Personal was a little morning cable show; an edgier alternative to neutered morning programming. It didn't help that they were out here at 6:30 a.m. in the morning, preparing to interview a half-wit reality show starlet who couldn't tell the time if she was given a digital watch.

His gloomy thoughts were interrupted when he heard Bill admit, "The execs thought we needed some fresh air and I might have taken that a little too literally."

Shane huffed a laugh, "You think?"

Bill huffed into his hands and rubbed them together vigorously. "While I admit shooting the show live in Central Park is certainly not my greatest idea, the pressure's on. There's talk about revamping, reorganizing..."

"Renewing?" Shane offered optimistically.

"With these ratings, that's a big maybe, right now."

Shane had been hosting Up Close and Personal for three years now. Despite their consistent ratings lead at first, the past five months had devolved to a ratings battle with competitors airing in the same time slot and now it appeared they were on the losing end as their meager lead over the Breakfast Show had finally dissolved.

As the face of the show, the one plastered on billboards and in commercials, Shane very much felt the heavy weight of the consequences of their diminishing ratings. The network was already in panic mode, judging from the sudden change in their studio setting. What would be next? A new host? Cancellation? If the show went down, he would too. The entertainment industry didn't have much sympathy for falling stars.

Clearing his throat to gain Bill's attention, he said slowly, "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way. Forget the new settings or props; this is about the interviews. That's what I do best. It's called Up Close and Personal for a reason, right? Remember when we started this, we said to hell with the cooking segments, fashion shows and animal demos? We were going to be the only morning show with hard hitting interviews all the time."

"Advertisers happened, that's what," Bill sniffed disdainfully.

"Yeah, I know. But we've strayed from our roots and our audience has strayed too. We need to get back to what I do best, interviewing. Today for instance, we've got the dumb celebrity..."

"Did you see her sex tape? She's not so dumb in the sack..."

Shane rolled his eyes. "Fine, we've got the incredibly talented porn star, I mean starlet, who can't carry a conversation to save her life. She's here shilling her new shoe collection. Then up next is the celebrity chef. You know it's near impossible to interview those guys when they're cooking. The only chance I've got to get up close and personal with anyone today is the last segment. The only problem is it's with a teenager whose claim to fame is a stupid cat video on YouTube with twenty million hits."

"That video is oddly addictive..."

Shane agreed reluctantly. "I might've watched it on repeat last night."

"How did he get the cat to do that?"

"I don't know."

"You could interview the cat..."

"Sounds more exciting than promoting a cookbook."

Bill acquiesced, then added after a prolonged beat, "You know we can't go all PBS educational on our audience at 8:00 am in the morning. A.M. viewers like their morning shows light, sweet and frothy. As easy to swallow as their morning coffee."

"I get it, I do, but we need to strike the right balance. If our content's no different from the network shows who's going to bother tuning in? What's the point of being on cable if we can't get away with anything edgier than the Breakfast Show."

Bill stroked his beard as he replied, "I'll think about it."

Shane nodded. It was frustrating that despite being the host of Up Close and Personal, he had no production or creative rights, as yet. He hoped to negotiate those into the next contract. For now, his thoughts and suggestions were simply taken into consideration, but not always implemented.

He was debating whether or not to share another idea when Bill drew his attention to the time, "Three minutes to air."

Shane sighed and bit back his remaining thoughts. He needed just one interview; one goddamn hard hitting interview that would remind everyone what he did best... for now, though, that would just have to wait for another day.

"That's it for today! Thank you for joining us. I'm Shane Roderick. See you tomorrow on Up Close and Personal."

Loud applause and screams from the crowd behind had him covering his ears. The brisk open air seemed to have brought out their primal instincts. He walked away quickly, hoping to avoid posing for photos with fans. He was ready to put the affable personality he projected on screen to rest for the moment. Spying his best friend talking animatedly to a sound technician, he made his way towards her, hoping they could grab an early lunch or late breakfast, depending on how you looked at it.

He felt pressure on his right arm and turned around to find Carlie Romano, reality star and sex tape expert, gripping him tightly. "Hey, I've got a lunch reservation at Chez Louis, what'd you say?

Shane had to give it to her, she was playing it straight. "Sorry, I've got other plans," he replied without any pretense at regret.

Leaning even closer, she brushed her ample cleavage against his arm and whispered, "I'm in New York for the rest of the week, free all day and most nights. If you wanted to get together...?"

He never got a chance to hear the rest because Jenny suddenly appeared right in the middle of them and cleared her throat. "Sorry to interrupt this little tete-a-tete right here, but Shane we need you up in the studio for that thing..."

He peeled Candy's fingers off him and bit back a smile. "Oh, right that thing..."

Jenny nodded enthusiastically and grinned cheekily at Carlie.

The starlet stepped back and flipped her platinum blonde curls. She knew when she was beat. Extending a long graceful hand to Shane, she offered, "Like I said, I'm in town. My assistant will give you my number... hit me up if you want to play."

Shane shuddered inwardly at the thought of taking her up on that offer. He shook her hand, ignoring the intimate squeeze she gave it. "I'll be sure to get in touch... when I can..."

With a final glare at Jenny, she tottered away on sky high heels. They both watched her exit with relief and Jenny herded him along in the direction of the studio. "Get in there and stay there," she said forcefully. "That girl's a man-eater."

Shane shook his head helplessly. "She does know I'm gay, right?"

"She probably thinks the only gay guys are the ones that haven't met her. And on that note, we need to talk."

"Not the I need to get laid speech again, Jenny? Been there, done that."

"Now it's the You need to get laid speech because you're scaring our guests."

At Shane's look of undisguised annoyance, Jenny lowered her voice and added, "I think you're sexually frustrated."

Shane lifted a blond brow in feigned interest. "Is that so, Doctor Jen? Please tell me more."

"It's coming through on camera. You look pissed off all the time. You were glaring so hard at that chef, we thought you were going to take the pan and pour his sauce down his jacket."

"He was condescending," said Shane defensively. "And he talked too much. I asked him the ingredients in his sauce and he gave me a history lesson on French cuisine."

Jenny countered back quickly. "I'm just saying if you keep acting up on air, then maybe it's no surprise our ratings are falling..."

"So that's my fault now?"

"Look at it this way; the network's looking for a scapegoat. I love Bill, but I'd rather see him take the blame for this epic outdoor fail than you."

"If he keeps making creative decisions like this, I'm sure the network will have a pretty good idea who's to blame."

Jenny sighed loudly. She didn't to get into an argument with her best friend about his on-screen demeanor but he was being borderline hostile to guests. Granted, they didn't work as hard as they did in journalism school to end up interviewing chefs and reality stars, but he was a professional and he ought to remember how pivotal his personality was to the success of the show. In her opinion, his mess of a personal life just had no place on screen.

She lingered behind him as he approached the elevator bank. "I've still got some stuff to do out there..."

He nodded, obviously not too eager for her company either.

"Do you want to meet up for dinner tonight?"

He ignored her, choosing instead to jab the elevator button repeatedly.

"So you're ignoring me now?"

He didn't respond, staring determinedly at the wall.

She leaned in close and poked her index finger at his arm. She kept poking until he stepped away. "I'm not going to stop till you say something."

His jaw flexed as she took a step closer and just as she was about to stab him in the arm again, he protested, "Stop. I'm not mad. Now just leave me alone."

She smiled at him beatifically and watched as he stepped into the elevator.

"Coming?" he asked.

She waited until the doors began closing before she grinned. "Guess who got invited to the super-secret emergency production meeting starting in..." she paused to look at her watch dramatically, "five minutes?"

Shane's jaw dropped as the doors closed on him.

At a charitable height of five foot three inches, Jennifer Bell was quite petite, although a few pounds north of her ideal weight. She was always on a diet, yet never without a piece of candy in her pockets. Her abundant auburn hair was pulled back tightly in a bun and her face was devoid of any make up.

She moistened her lips with her tongue, and rubbed her nose where a light sprinkling of freckles was gathered. She wasn't beautiful in the conventional sense, but she would always stand out in a crowd, with that fiery red hair and sparkling green eyes. Shane found her attractive in a casual and unfussy way.

With her sneaker clad feet propped on his desk, she stretched out and yawned loudly.

Shane pushed his cup of coffee in her direction. She took it, wrinkling her nose derisively. "You didn't make it to Starbucks?"

"Why don't you ever do the coffee runs?"

She shrugged, pulling a wad of gum out of her mouth and aiming it at the trash can. "Score!" she cried out happily when it went in, in a graceful arc.

"How did the meeting go?"

She smirked at him as she sipped her coffee attentively as if it were a cup of her favorite Caramel Macchiato, not the muddy tasting dredge from the coffee machine in the break room. After a few moments, she said, "Before we get to that, answer me this; how're you doing?"

He looked away self-consciously. "Good. I'm good."

She placed the mug down. "No, you're not. I don't know how long it's going to take, but you've got to get over Drew."

"I'm over him."

"No you're not. How long's it been?"

"Three months, one week and five days," Shane said before he could stop himself.

Jenny blinked, lost for words while Shane looked away self-consciously.

"There's a guy, Michael, he just moved in down the hall from me. We got talking the other and you two have so much in common..."

"No,"

"There're plenty of fish in the ocean."

"Maybe I want steak."

"Fine, get a gun and bag yourself some game."

"I don't want to hunt or fish... I'm good, really."

"I know guys who would put Drew to shame. Honestly, it doesn't take much to put Drew to shame, anyway."

"There you go bashing him as always."

"And you as always rise to his defense."

"I don't want to do this."

"Get over him."

Shane's heart clenched and he said in a voice that strained to betray his inner turmoil, "Nothing to get over."

Jenny stayed silent, skeptical about her best friend's assertions that he was fine but unsure how to get him to admit otherwise.

She didn't have to think too hard because Shane said softly, "Maybe if he'd ended things I'd we were really over, but we still feel so unfinished. There are so many things I want to say to him..."

"He still hasn't returned your calls?"

Shane shook his head. "I called Brian yesterday. He was in the middle of some bullshit story about how he hadn't seen or heard from Drew when I heard a dog barking."

"Jasmine," Jenny intuited immediately, then added angrily, "Brian, that lying motherfucker."

"You know the night Drew left, he didn't take much with him so I thought he'd be back. The next day, I came back from work and Jasmine was gone and it hit me that he was serious this time. He loves that ugly pug so fucking much, sometimes I wish I never gave her to him... fuck, now I'm actually jealous of the dog. What the hell's going on with me?"

"Been asking myself the same question... about you, of course. Not me. I'm just peachy."

Shane leaned back in his chair and ignored Jenny's teasing, he was used to it.

"So," Jenny said with a sigh, "Good work, Sherlock. Mystery solved. You found Drew. What next?"

"I thought he wanted me to find him. That he wanted me to come after him. That's why I called Brian every day; I thought Drew wanted me... to find him and all along, it turns out... he was right there."

After a brief pause, he laughed, a sound that was more painful than humorous. "He was right there and he actually didn't want me..." another pause before adding, "doesn't want me."

Jenny leaned over the table to take his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I'm not stupid. I know it's over." At this point, he looked at Jenny straight in the eyes, "I want to move on. I want to forget him. It's just that I'm hurt and angry and sad all at the same time. I don't know how to move on."

"You need closure," Jenny said as she pulled her hand out of his and walked around the desk to embrace him. "I'm sorry. I had no idea you felt this way."

He squeezed her back. "Tell me what to do."

"Don't fall in love with heartless bastards."

"That'll be the day," he said as he released her from his embrace.

Pulling back, she pointed at the iPod dock, "Do you understand what she sings?"

"What?" Shane asked, unable to follow the sudden change in conversation.

"This music. She's singing in French. You don't speak French."

"I don't listen to the words. Celine Dion's voice transcends languages. It's about the emotions and feelings she imparts..."

She exaggerated a yawn and said impatiently, "You and your emotions. That's what's always getting you into trouble," she said as she sat back across from him.

"So what's this about a super-secret production meeting?"

Jenny grinned. "Drum roll please." When Shane denied her a beat, she tapped his desk in a steady pattern, "Guess who?"

"No."

"You're no fun. Bill says you inspired him. What did you say?"

"Inspired him?" Shane intoned. Bill didn't bat an eyelash when he'd shared his ideas.

"He said you were talking about taking the show back to basics, hard hitting one-on-one interviews."

"Oh, that," Shane recalled. "We've lost our way, don't you think? Half the celebrities come here to shill something; a new shoe line like Carlie or the chef with the cookbook."

"It's just business, Shane. We need endorsements, advertisers, you know how it goes."

"We're called Up Close and Personal for a reason... not Up Close and Shop or Up Close and Cook..."

"Now that's an idea, you in the kitchen with celebrities..."

"I'd rather murder you with a skillet..."

Jenny chuckled evilly.

Shane knew that as the director of their hour-long morning talk show, Jenny shared a lot of his concerns, but didn't have any production rights like him. Unlike movie directors, her work was focused solely on the technical execution of the daily broadcast. She didn't make any creative decisions, working mainly with engineering and the graphics department to ensure that special effects and camera shots aired as needed.

"How did you get into the meeting with creative, anyway?"

She replied mysteriously, "I have my ways."

"Who're you fucking?" he countered.

Her jaw fell open and she feigned outrage for a few seconds. "How dare you Roderick?"

"Who is it?"

She dropped the charade and smiled sweetly. "It's Trent, and I'm not sleeping with him. We went out for drinks and he happened to mention the meeting, that's all."

Shane wrinkled his nose, "Trent, seriously?"

"Nothing happened," Jen said reassuringly. "There might have been a drunken grope or two but I have standards, you know. Besides, he only fucks interns."

Shane nodded. Trent, one of their producers, was notorious for his love of barely legal co-eds.

"Anyway," Jen continued. "Are you going to guess or not?"

"I don't want to but I guess you're going to make me."

"Ha, funny. So who's at their height of fame right now? In the news every day? One scandal after the other... kind of bratty?"

"Bieber?"

"Ugh, no. Hates interviews, embodies pop culture at its finest... or worst, depending on who you talk to..."

Shane considered his responses. "So, not a politician, then. Actor? Actress?"

Jenny smiled. "Musician."

"Gaga? Rihanna? Madonna?"

She shook her head. "Male."

Shane tried to think of male artists that fit the criteria. Many came to mind but one stood out. Considering that his last televised interview had ended in an assault charge, he seriously doubted that...

"Leo Malone."

He sat up immediately. "He doesn't do interviews; not anymore. Not after he go arrested and the reporter sued him..."

"I guess he changed his mind, because you, my dear, are heading to Los Angeles next week to interview the one and only."

A huge grin broke across his face. This was a dream scoop. A reclusive figure agreeing to an interview for the first time in years. "Our ratings are going to hit the roof!"

"You got that right, and get this, nothing's off limits, no holds barred."

"His arrest? Rehab? His family?"

Jenny nodded, grinning wildly.

"Why now? He's got more than enough publicity with the new album. Why do something so intimate?"

"I hear it's an image thing. The record label wants the public to know their poster boy's cleaned up his act."

"And he's okay with this? I'd do almost anything for my job, but I do draw the line at personal injury."

Jenny giggled. "Don't worry. We'll send up a guard dog up with you. I hear Kendra's Chihuahua might be available for the gig."

Shane sat in silence for a few moments, stunned as the enormity of their scoop hit them. "How the fuck did Bill pull this off?"

"I hear his old friends with Leo Malone's record label boss. Something about calling in a favor..."

"This is huge."

"Bill's probably on his way here. You've got to act surprised when he tells you."

Shane nodded then glanced at his watch. "I've got to head up to the gym."

Jenny was following him to the door when he spun around suddenly. "What do you mean send a guard dog up with me?"

"Oh the interview? It's in Los Angeles. The Blackbones are kicking off their nationwide tour so you and a crew get to go down to sunny California. Should be fun. Maybe you could sneak in a vacation day or two. It's already summer over there, You could get a tan, well a real one anyway, not this maybe get a tan who knows, you just might meet a cute surfer dude on the beach, ..."

"You sound like a travel agent."

She punched his arm playfully. "I thought I was doing a pretty good impression of a concerned best friend."

"Nah, stick to your usual routine."

"Which one?"

He moved out of reach before responding cheekily. "Bitch mode."

"Hey!" she protested then raced after him.

The camera flashes blinded him for a moment. If only he could get away from the photographers. They were always there. No matter where he went, inevitably there would be a bright flash then the pandemonium would start all over again.

He'd just arrived in Los Angeles and it'd been barely two hours. The hotel made him feel claustrophobic. He'd been stuck in a plane so long that he just wanted to get out for a bit. Breathe in some real air. He'd made it to a nearby convenience store and found his face plastered on half a dozen magazines. He couldn't resist picking up one that read, Leo Malone: Guess what he's doing now?!

He'd been intrigued; just what had he been caught doing? He was pretty sure he hadn't gotten into any mischief recently. He'd flipped the magazine open quickly to find himself at a St. Louis gas station filling up his Range Rover tank. He'd put the magazine away with barely concealed disgust. People paid to read this shit?

He was walking out, cigarettes in hand, when he saw the first flash out of the corner of his eye. He'd thought he was incognito, in his beloved Cardinals baseball hat and dark shades.

What the fuck gave him away? Goddamn paparazzi; he hated them all. Sticking his hands low in his pockets and sticking his chin in the zip up collar of his sweat shirt, he began walking briskly. He'd ignore them. Maybe they'd leave him alone if he just ignored them. Deep down, he knew better.

Someone in the hotel must've called them. Or the convenience store... or any of the two hundred people who'd seen him arrive at the hotel. He hated this city. Couldn't understand why any celebrities would live in this goddamn place. They were going to follow him until they could no longer catch sight of him. Unfortunately that would be in his bedroom, and he was a long way from there.

"How're you doing today, Leo. Come on. give us a smile". Flash, flash.

"Yeah, he'd give them something alright, a kick or two to the groin. He shook his head to clear those thoughts. He didn't want to go down that road. No violent thoughts, no anger, pure Zen. He could handle this. Just ignore them, he told himself repeatedly. Don't look up, just keep walking.

People on the streets were beginning to stare. It wouldn't take long till someone recognized him and began screaming out his name. He didn't want to sign autographs. Didn't want to make polite chit chat. Fans could be rabid when they had a celebrity in their midst, and he could be stuck out here for hours.

As he approached the hotel, he noticed his bodyguard waiting at the entrance. He couldn't be more relieved to see him. "Don't let any of those bastards near me," he warned.

"Sure, boss," Jake said, smirking, "Told you it was a bad idea to go on a walk in LA."

In his penthouse suite, Leo lay on the king-sized bed, flipping channels on the flat screen. He had a crazy week ahead of him. Three back-to-back shows and then what he was dreading most, an interview. Why in the world did he agree to it?

He paused when he caught sight of himself. E! News was doing a feature on him. He changed the channel self-consciously, unable to watch whatever half-truths they'd gathered in the guise of his true-life story.

His album was still number one album in the United States for the seventh week in a row although that would probably change when Adele released her latest next week. The album was four times platinum already, and his record label was confident that it would be his first to reach Diamond status... so why couldn't he summon up any more enthusiasm?

As he placed the remote back on the night stand, he noticed another one there. He picked it up curiously and clicked the only button on it. A panel on the ceiling above the bed slid away to reveal a large mirror reflecting the entire span of the bed. A solitary reflection desired by millions, and yet very much alone.