It felt very strange to not head off to the newsroom when she arrived at work but Adele didn’t mind. It made a change from sifting through a thousand post-it notes, being yelled at by Gus or dragging a half-asleep Doug out into the cold morning. Instead she had to take a seat in a large boardroom with a group of people she’d only ever walked past in the corridor or seen mentioned in the end credits of ‘Every Night with Eastman.’
          She took a chair beside a disheveled looking woman who was most likely a writer and waited patiently for someone important to arrive. It was a further fifteen minutes before anyone did.
          "Right everyone take a seat," Barry Cassidy declared as he stalked into the room.
          "Where’s Harry?" someone asked, which Adele decided was a good point seeing as he was the star of the show.
          "He’ll be in later," Barry said sharply. "He had a busy night last night.”
          "Hungover probably," the woman who was next to Adele mumbled.
          "I’d like to begin proceedings by firstly introducing our newest member of the team. You may recognise her as a familiar face from around the halls – Adele Brodie. Adele is a respected journalist and has joined the team to assist Mr Eastman with defining the outlines of his interviews so as to get the best out of the guests.”
          "In other words she’s been hired to stop him getting sued again," remarked a man in a creased blue shirt.
          "Ed, there’s no need for cynicism," Barry scolded as he finally took a seat.
          "So Ms Brodie, what is your view on Mr Eastman’s interview technique in general?" Ed queried.
          Adele was slightly startled at hearing her name and had to quickly regroup in order to answer. "Well, I wouldn’t say he is as abysmal as some critics have so harshly put it, despite the few uncharacteristic incidents that have plagued him over the last few years. I’m certain with a little direction and a few pointers he can conduct as competent an interview as anyone.”
          "Well said," declared one of the people from further down the desk.
          Barry smiled contentedly. "As you can see, this is why we have the utmost faith in Ms Brodie, ladies and gentleman.”
          "I’m glad I have your faith in me," Adele perked. "I hope I can fulfill whatever desire it is you have of me.”
          "I doubt you could…" Barry’s praising statement was cut off as Harry Eastman stumbled into the room. He looked scruffy with an unshaven face and red watery eyes.
          "Sorry I’m late," he said through a gravelly voice. "Have I missed anything important?”
          "Only the introduction of Adele here," Ed groused, motioning to Adele who pretended to be interested in her notebook.
          "Oh, good morning," Harry Eastman muttered and slumped into a chair.

          By mid morning Adele was perched in an audience chair watching various rehearsals being undertaken. Harry Eastman wasn’t due to practice his interviews until the afternoon and so there was really little for her to do. So, instead of making important notes and reading through the proposed interview questions she was thinking back to the previous evening when she’d run into Harry.
          Sitting in his dressing room had been a surreal experience. There were hundreds of photos of him with various celebrities that were stuck around the walls and mirror. A rack of very expensive suits was situated over one side of the room and a crate of equally expensive looking champagne sat under a table. He’d passed her a flute of champagne and motioned for her to sit on a stool beside him. The conversation had started out quite stilted and uncomfortable but after another glass of bubbly and a few jokes they eased up. By the time Adele had realised that it was nearly eight o’clock it had also occurred to her than Harry Eastman was not at all hiding the fact he was flirting with her and if she were honest, she was quite enjoying it.
          As she sat there watching Harry rather unenthusiastically read through a ‘Top Ten’ segment, she pondered the last part of their encounter the previous evening. As they had stood just inside his dressing room he’d told her she was an asset to the show, that she was beautiful and intelligent and that he hoped working on the show would mean they would get to know each other better. He’d then let his hand find the small of her back again as he guided her out of the dressing room.
          "You look bored.”
          "What?" Adele gasped, looking up to see Wes plonking himself in a seat beside her. "What on earth are you doing here?”
          "I think they want to give me my own segment," Wes enthused. "Now back to the matter at hand, you look bored.”
          "Not at all," Adele said defensively. "I was thinking is all.”
          "Thinking about what?”
          "Nothing important," Adele lied and Wes looked at her unconvinced. "Ok, so it’s not as hectic as being a journalist and I’m very used to being run off my feet but I’ll cope.”
          "I believe you, millions wouldn’t," Wes chided and then lowered his voice. "So tell me, have you had much to do with Easty himself yet?”
          "Enough to know not ever to call him Easty," Adele shrugged. "You?”
          "No, I don’t think I’ve even been properly introduced which makes me think my inclusion has little to do with Harry Eastman all together.”
          "I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation.”
          "Are you actually sticking up for the slimly little git?”
          "No, I just don’t think you should judge someone you’ve only met when attempting to wrestle what you assumed was a wig from their scalp.”
          "O-K," Wes said suspiciously. "So, anyway since you’re not exactly racking up brownie points with Easty at the moment, do you fancy nipping out for some morning tea?”
          "I really don’t think it’s appropriate for me to leave just yet," Adele winced.
          "Why? Because something might happen?" Wes scorned. "Believe me, the only thing that’s likely to happen is his gloriousness cracking a tanti and refusing to come out of his dressing room until ten minutes before the show.”
          As the words left Wes’s lips Harry Eastman swore loudly. "I don’t have to put up with this," he snapped and stormed off the set.
          "And Ta-daa," Wes mused, motioning to Harry Eastman’s descending figure. "Shall we go for coffee now?”
          "A quick one," Adele sighed as she got to her feet and followed Wes out of the studio.

          They ended up a rather loud, trendy café just around the corner from the studio. It had a series of padded looking booths, several couches and wrought iron tables to enjoy your beverage in the open air. Wes picked one of the booths and Adele slid in opposite him.
          "This is very modern," Adele declared as she perused the menu.
          "Yeah, it’s not really my type of place by my girlfriend likes it.”
          "Girlfriend?" Adele said sounding more surprised than she meant to. "You’ve never mentioned her before.”
          "It never came up," Wes shrugged. "Her name’s Kate.”
          "Have you been together long.”
          "Two years," Wes enthused. "I’ve never been in a relationship that’s lasted this long before. It’s terrifying and exciting all at once.”
          "That’s fantastic," Adele smiled. "It’s good to know you’ve found someone who makes you so happy.”
          "Thanks," Wes sighed happily. "So, how about you? You seeing someone?”
          "No, I’ve not had the time. My career kinda took precedent over everything else," Adele said as she fumbled uncomfortably with a napkin. "I guess the only man in my life at the moment is Frank Skywalker." She paused and Wes looked at her strangely. "He’s my cat.”
          "Really? You don’t seem like a cat woman.”
          "No?”
          "You don’t really give the impression of a pet lover.”
          Adele’s eyes went wide. "Are you serious?”
          "Of course not," Wes giggled. "I’m a comedian after all.”
          "Prick," Adele scorned but lightened when a waitress appeared with a notebook ready to take their orders.
          When they returned to the studio Wes was whisked away by a producer and Adele was left alone in the corridor. She heard a commotion coming form the direction of Harry Eastman’s dressing room and decided to go an investigate.
          "Listen you fucking moron, I’m not going to do it ok, it’s humiliating," Harry snapped from within the confines of the room.
          "Harry will you just…" Barry Cassidy began to plead.
          "NO!" Harry cut him off. There was the rushed opening of a door followed by said door slamming shut.
          Adele poked her head around the corner and watched as Brian Cassidy stormed off in the direction of his office. She edged her way toward Harry Eastman’s dressing room and gently knocked on the door.
          "Piss off Barry," Harry hissed.
          "It’s not Barry," Adele called through the wood. "It’s Adele.”
          There was a brief moment of silence before the door opened and Harry appeared looking slightly pink from too much shouting. "Come in," he said softly and moved aside to let her in.
          Adele brushed past him and took her seat on the stool. "Having problems?" she asked as Harry poured himself a drink of something clearly alcoholic.
          "Stupid bloody writers," he breathed. "Sometimes I think they like to see me humiliated.”
          "Having a sense of humility appeals to the audience though," Adele shrugged. "Self depreciating comedians are usually among the most popular.”
          "I don’t like to be made to look like a fool.”
          "Then you’ve chosen the wrong career.”
          Harry stopped drinking and looked at Adele. "You’re a very wise woman you know that.”
          "It comes from years of hard work and very little pleasure.”
          "That’s not what I’ve heard.”
          "No?”
          "Sleeping with someone to help your fledging career along is not highly recommended," Harry chided. "But seeing as it was your only chance of getting a break it’s easily overlooked.”
          "It’s nice to see the grapevine is alive and working well.”
          "Was it ever dead," Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "They make me keep this style you know. They say that it’s easy for an audience to identify with someone who doesn’t change.”
          "That’s hardly fair," Adele said empathically.
          Harry looked at her sideways and Adele couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of pity for him. He was clearly unhappy and seemed as uncertain about his own sense of self as she was about hers. For a man that delivered humorous lines every night there wasn’t any joy in his face. The wrinkles that creased around his eyes didn’t show laughter but pain and this was clearly why he drank.
          "Are you happy with your life Miss Brodie?" Harry asked, his voice sounding slightly weak.
          "I vary between exceedingly and chronically depressed.”
          "Are you married?”
          "No, so very single.”
          "Someone as beautiful and intelligent as you shouldn’t be single," Harry breathed. "Please don’t tell me you value your career over your life.”
          "Work is my life," Adele pouted.
          "Work is a myth," Harry declared, turning to face her. "If you always put it first you miss out on so much. Trust me, I’ve been married and divorced twice.”
          "The problem is that I never meet anyone to test the relationship over work theory with," Adele said more to herself than Harry. "Besides which I’ve been pretty useless in my entire relationship history.”
          "I blame the lack of romance," Harry declared getting to his feet. "No one romances anyone.”
          "No one has time.”
          "You’re so cynical.”
          "Do you blame me?" Adele asked, cocking her head to the side.
          "No, I guess not," Harry agreed and smiled a little.
          "So anyway," Adele breathed and moved a little on the stool. "What is it they want you to do that’s so embarrassing?”
          "They want to make light of the incident last night. Have me wear a wig with a skull cap underneath.”
          "Oh that’s brilliant.”
          "It’s stupid.”
          "The kid’s will love it.”
          "People will laugh at me.”
          "They’ll laugh at you anyway. So isn’t it better that you make the jokes?”
          Harry turned slowly and studied Adele for a few moments. "I like you Miss Brodie," he said quietly as he got to his feet. "I’ll do it just for you," he added and surprised Adele by dropping a kiss on her forehead. He left the dressing room and she sat there stunned for a moment.
          "What just happened there?" she whispered to the walls.

          The only work Adele was asked to do was check through Harry Eastman’s interview questions to make sure they were suitable. She reworded a couple and crossed out one but essentially they were all fine. It also wasn’t until airtime neared that she was reunited with Wes.
          "Where’d you disappear to?”
          "I had to run around the local mall groping people’s heads to see if they were wearing toupees," Wes mused. "They seemed to think the audience will like it.”
          "It sounds hysterical," Adele giggled. "Did you enjoy doing it? That’s what I want to know.”
          "It was oddly liberating," Wes chided. "I have to go on and do a little introduction soon.”
          "Oh my God can you believe he did that?" piped up someone in the green room. Wes and Adele were distracted and glanced in the direction of the television to see what was being talked about.
          What they saw was Harry Eastman standing there with a toupee in one hand and a very bald head. The audience was hysterical while everyone else seemed to be stunned.
          "Wasn’t he protesting about that earlier?" Wes remarked. "He was adamant he wasn’t going to do it.”
          "Guess he changed his mind," Adele shrugged, a small smile creeping onto her lips.
          Wes looked at her strangely. "You wouldn’t have had anything to do with this sudden personality gain of Eastman’s would you?”
          "Me?" Adele said innocently. "No.”
          Wes narrowed his eyes at her as someone important with a clipboard appeared. "You’re on in a second," he declared as a woman in an ‘Every Night with Eastman’ shirt roughly attached a lapel mic. Once the mic was attached Wes was ushered out so quick Adele could only call ‘good luck’ to him.
          She stayed in the green room to watch Wes’s piece. The crowd were trying hard to be hushed as Harry and Wes came face to face for the first time since the previous night’s fiasco. Adele was surprised when Harry jovially handed over his toupee to Wes and made light of the whole incident. Wes in return put on the hairpiece backward for a cheap laugh. When they went to the footage of Wes attacking people at the shopping mall, the other people in the green room seemed intrigued. ‘He’s hysterical’, remarked the musical guest for the evening.
          When Wes skipped into the green room as a commercial came on he received a round of applause from its occupants.
          "Thankyou," he smiled, blushing ever so slightly and took a bow. "Did I do good?" he asked plonking himself down next to Adele.
          "No you were abysmal," Adele chided, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "That’s the funniest bloody thing to happen on this show…ever.”
          "Does that mean you’re an Eastman groupie?”
          "Oh please," Adele scorned and then babbled. "I haven’t had much to do at night recently…"
          Wes laughed and jumped back to his feet to remove his lapel mic. "Do you fancy getting out of here?”
          "Why?”
          "I feel the need to celebrate," Wes beamed. "And I need at least one other person there if I don’t want to look like a freak.”
          "Sure, why not," Adele perked and got to her feet.

          "This place looks posh," Adele remarked as she stepped into a modern looking wine bar. There was brightly coloured couches and soft lounge music with a host of the young and fashionable looking stunning in various corners of the room.
          "Yeah, my girlfriend likes coming here," Wes shrugged. "Take a seat and I’ll get the drinks.”
          "No, you might drop some Rohypnol into it," Adele chided. "And the next thing I know I’ll be waking up dazed and confused with my underwear missing.”
          "I’m glad you think so highly of me.”
          "I’m a journalist," Adele shrugged. "We’re suspicious of everyone.”
          "In a tabloid kinda way," Wes teased.
          "Oh hush," Adele laughed and nudged him as they sidled up to the bar.
          "Two glasses of your finest champagne," Wes declared haughtily to the bartender. Adele went to protest but he put his hand over her mouth until the glasses were set down in front of them. "I think we should have a toast.”
          "Your palms stink," Adele winced, screwing up her nose. "To what?”
          "To the two people who are going to revive late night television," Wes grinned and held up his glass. "Us.”
          "To us," Adele grinned and they clinked glasses and drank deeply. She glanced around the bar and noted a couple who was only their esophaguses away from engulfing each other. "My God would you look at that?”
          "Look at what?" Wes asked and turned to see what Adele was motioning too.
          "That pair on the red couch," Adele laughed. "Could she be any more of a slut?”
          Wes didn’t say anything and Adele looked at him surprised. His face didn’t match the revulsion that was on hers, instead there seemed to be sadness and anger etched from his eyes to his mouth. He put down his glass and walked out; stunned, Adele put down her glass and hurried after him.
          "Wes," she gasped, hurrying out into the street. "Wes," she reiterated and grabbed his arm. "What’s the hell just happened?”
          "That slut is Kate," Wes said through ragged breath. "My girlfriend.”
          "Oh Wes," Adele gasped, still holding his arm.
          His expression changed from sad to fury. "I’ve got to talk to her.”
          "It’s not worth it," Adele assured him, gripping tighter. "You don’t want to make a scene.”
          "She’s fucking got her tongue down someone else’s throat," Wes shrieked. "I want to fucking kill her.”
          "I know," Adele soothed and started leading him away. "But here’s not the place to do that. You need somewhere to conceal the body and there’s too many witnesses.”
          Wes looked at her like she’d just lost the plot before he sunk onto the seat at a bus shelter and dropped his head into his hands.