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  Brad Chadwick was already there when she arrived, seated in one of the swivel chairs by the table. He was turned slightly towards her, one foot resting on a lower metal rung, the other planted on the floor. Jill knew even though she wasn't short, when she sat in the chair her feet would not touch the floor. Brad Chadwick was a big man. And he looked very handsome in dark blue suit and maroon tie.

  "Too bad he's such a horse's ass," she said under her breath as she approached, reminding herself that she was there to debate the man, not admire his long legs or the cut of his suit.

  "Ah, my ideological adversary." Chadwick looked up. He didn't smile so Jill didn't either. Instead she took her seat and allowed the sound people to fit her with the microphone before acknowledging his presence.

  "Good evening, Mr. Chadwick."

  "It's Brad," he corrected. "Didn't Tina tell you? Shale wants us to call each other by our first names. He thinks the surnames are too stuffy."

  "No, Tina didn't tell me." Jill took a swig of the bottled water she'd brought with her and set it down beside the cup of water at her elbow. Chadwick looked amused.

  "What's wrong? Afraid the water's poisoned?" he asked.

  Jill looked up, her blue eyes locking with his gray ones. "No," she said. "But if the water here is what causes you people to all think alike I'd rather not risk drinking it."

  Chadwick started to respond but now the producer was signaling them. Jill took the water bottle and put it on the shelf under the lip of the table, sat up straight and listened to the countdown.

  "5, 4, 3, 2, 1..." He said and pointed as the red light signaled that he live feed had begun.

  "Good evening, America. I'm Brad Chadwick."

  "And I'm Jill Parmele."

  They said the next line in unison. "And this is Loggerheads."

  Brad Chadwick fixed the camera with a serious look. "Tonight's hot topic: freedom of religion. Former Idaho congressman turned evangelist Lester Hillman is under fire for requiring vagrants who come to his homeless shelter, The Fold, to swear an oath of loyalty to Christ."

  He pivoted his chair to the screen, where the image of Hillman - a grandfatherly man wearing a too-big cowboy hat - appeared. "Reverend Hillman, welcome to the program."

  "Thanks, Brad. I'm a big fan. I'm just sorry I couldn't make it but God saw fit to snow me in."

  "Well, man hasn't learned to control all of God's works yet, but it does seem in the case of your shelter that some liberal interests are hell-bent on closing down your shelter," Brad replied sympathetically.

  "Yes they are, Brad. And it's a crying shame. Three hots, a cot and Jesus. What could be better than that?" The cowboy hat wobbled as Reverend Hillman shook his head.

  "Reverend Hillman, Jill Parmele here." Jill swiveled her chair towards the screen now and crossed her legs. "Three hots a cot and Jesus may be fine to some people, but what if the homeless person happens to already be practicing a faith other than Christianity? Should they be turned away or forced to make a false profession of faith to get shelter for themselves and their children?"

  "Well, excuse me, ma'am, but if they cared so much about their children they'd be Christians already."

  Jill raised an eyebrow and prepared to retort, but Chadwick cut her off in an effort to do damage control. Jill played it cool, allowing less irritation to show on her face than raged in her chest.

  "Perhaps my liberal co-host hasn't researched the shelter enough to know that you support this entirely with your own money." Chadwick pulled out a brochure from the shelter and opened. "It says here that you served four hundred families last winter."

  "And got professions of faith from each and every one of them," Hillman boasted.

  "Got or extorted, Rev. Hillman?" Jill pressed. "We have several complaints here from various families -including a Buddhist couple - who said they were forced to choose between sub zero temperatures and swearing faith to a god other than the one they worship. Now, whether you believe in a person's particular religious path or not, isn't this America? Don't we have freedom of religion?"

  "It's a Christian nation, Miss Parmele. Or at least it was until your kind got your hooks in it." The grandfatherly face turned angry, but Jill was undeterred.

  "I happen to be a Christian," said Jill, "and I was always taught that Jesus reached out to everyone with love and compassion, regardless of their background, and with respect to their free will. When he fed the masses he had no way of knowing if everyone believed him."

  Again Chadwick jumped in to save the guest and for the first time, he had an edge of exasperation in his voice. "Rev. Hillman, did you ever think after two tours of duty in the military, six terms serving your country in congress and opening a homeless shelter that your motives would come under fire? I've got you tax forms here through 2005 and it looks to me that you are a law abiding taxpayer who should be allowed to make his own decisions about how he serves."

  "Yup, I sure do," the old man said stubbornly.

  Jill felt a well of anger rush from her belly to her throat. Her instincts about Tina had been correct. She'd been working with Chadwick, feeding him what she believed would be Jill's talking points. But she fought down the anger and looked at Chadwick with a calm demeanor and an expression that said, "Gotcha."

  Reaching into her folder, she pulled out her real ammunition - a suit filed by a casino seeking payment on Hillman's huge gambling debt and the other outlining the investigation into The Fold's financial situation.

  "Well, then perhaps you and my co-host can explain to the audience at home whether that decision includes an alleged gambling habit and mismanagement of shelter funds," Jill said.

  She held up the complaints.

  "I did a bit of digging, Rev. Hillman, and it seems you're being sued for $157,000 by Blackwood Casinos and your charity is under investigation for almost $200,000 in unaccounted for funds. Furthermore, these reports allege that you underreported public donations to your shelter for the last two years and over-reported your contributions, triggering an investigation by the IRS. Isn't that so Rev. Hillman?"

  Hillman was sputtering now, his face red. "None of that's been proven, Missy. And I'm not going to sit here and be talked down to by some damn leftist."

  He pointed his finger at the camera. "None of that stuff has been proven."

  "Absolutely," intoned Brad Chadwick, obviously flustered. "And in this country we are still innocent until proven guilty."

  "Yes, Brad, and I'm sure ANN will be all over this story." She smiled at him and noted that her co-host looked very uncomfortable. For all his flash, the big conservative bully wore his heart - and emotions - on his sleeve.

  Jill looked up to see that the screen had gone black and the producer was signaling for a commercial break.

  When Chadwick was sure the camera was off, he exploded. "What in the hell was that?" he yelled at Jill.

  "I know what it was supposed to be," she retorted. "It was supposed to be a hatchet job. Nice move, Chad, getting your personal plant hired as my personal assistant. Unfortunately, you forgot to think ahead. I fed Tina that false tax lead knowing you'd waste time trying to discredit it."

  "I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he said. "And it's not Chad. It's Brad. Don't make me tell you again because..."

  "People!" Eric Longstreet was pointing giving the on-air countdown as the cameramen stood around, mouths agape at the spectacle. "In five, four, three, two, one..."

  "We're back," said Jill, smiling at the camera "and now that the previous lively debate is behind us and we've lost our guest, it's time to move on to drug searches in school, pro or con."

  Again Chadwick was frustrated when it turned out that Jill wasn't that far off his philosophy about drug dealers in school. They both agreed that they needed to be ferreted out, especially in wake of a highly publicized incident where two Texas high school students were found near death from an on-campus heroin overdose. Several times, Chadwick tried to trip Jill up by leading her to make comme
nts that might be remotely interpreted as being soft on drug use. Each time she deftly dodged him, flashing a smile at the camera and complimenting him on joining her in the commitment to school safely.

  At the end of the program, Chadwick undid his microphone and flung it off, where it bounced across the table before landing on the floor.

  "Temper, temper," she said.

  "Don't you condescend to me," he snarled. "I had nothing to do with putting a mole in as your assistant. That's a baseless charge and I don't appreciate it."

  Jill stood and picked up her folder. "Oh really? Then why did you have the tax information?"

  "Because my assistant gave it to me," he said. "This was supposed to be a softball story, a backdrop to introduce you to the audience."

  "Oh really," Jill shot back. "I don't think so. I think this was your attempt at making me look like a fool from the get-go. Only you underestimated me, Mr. Chadwick. I'm not the kind of person who leaves my work to my assistants, especially assistants hired by my underhanded co-hosts."

  Now Brad Chadwick had moved closer to her until his face was inches from hers. Jill forced herself to stand her ground.

  "I told you," he said, his voice low and menacing. "I did not hire a plant to be your assistant."

  "Yeah, right," she said and walked away. When Jill saw Tina by the door, she stopped. "You can tell Mr. Shale that you're fired," she said.

  Part II

  "I still can't believed how bad you made that jerk look!" Megan had already made the point but couldn't help making it again. "Sis, you totally trounced him. Mr. Big-Shot-Conservative-Author looked like a novice next to you. And the tension! God, Jill, you could have cut it with a knife."

  "That's not even the half of it," Jill said, and launched into a blow-by-blow of what happened after the show.

  "Oh, geesh," Megan said. "You think he would do that? Do you think he would really hire someone to spy on you and report back to him?" She paused. "Can you really say you're surprised?"

  Jill sighed. "No, not really. As silly as it sounds I kind of had a premonition about it."

  She didn't tell Megan about the dream. Her submissive urges - and the dream it spawned - were among the very few things she didn't share with anyone, not even her beloved sibling. "Besides, I'd been warned by several people that I should watch my back at ANN."

  "Well, it sure paid off tonight, but I just hate that you are working at a place where you have to. You should be able to trust your co-workers, Jill. Betrayal shouldn't be an occupational hazard."

  "Tell me about it," said Jill. "Apparently our little spat was the talk of the network. Guess who's got a 9 a.m. appointment with Bill Shale tomorrow?"

  "It better not just be you," said Megan angrily.

  "Settle down," said Jill with a laugh. "We're both being called in."

  "You think they're going to make you keep that awful Tina as your assistant?"

  Jill picked her cat up and sat down on the couch, scratching his head as she considered her sister's question. "No, I doubt it," she said. "Even Bill Shale would have a hard time defending such a transparent plant."

  "Oh God, you don't think they'd fire you, do you?"

  "No, I'm under contract. They'd have to pay me copious amounts of money to settle it. Besides, how would it make them look if I disappear after showing up their Golden Boy?" Jill tucked her legs underneath her as the Abyssinian curled up in her lap. "Besides, I have the feeling that Brad Chadwick would never be on board with something like that. It would make him look like he was afraid of competition - specifically female competition. I can't see him opening himself up to that kind of criticism."

  Jill sighed. "But enough about me. How are things with you? How's the baby?"

  "Emma's fine," said Megan. "And perfect. Can you believe she's already trying to say her ABC's?"

  "Get out of town!" Jill said. "It seemed like she just learned to talk!"

  "I know! It's crazy. Hold on a sec." Megan put the phone down and in the background Jill could hear her telling Emma to put something down. The toddler howled and then giggled as Megan gave her something else to pacify her interests.

  "OK, I'm back," Megan said. "Yeah, time flies. Speaking of time, Trent got some off from work. Guess where he's taking me this weekend?"

  "I don't know."

  "Oh, come on. Guess." Megan insisted.

  "Alright. He's taking you skiing."

  "Bingo!" Megan giggled. "And on an overnight at the Alpine Inn. Mom's keeping Emma."

  "Oh, honey, you're getting out on a romantic getaway! And alone, too! I'm so happy. Promise to tell me all about it?"

  "I promise," said Megan. "I'd better let you go, though. I know you've got a big day tomorrow. Kiss Kiss."

  "Alrightee," said Jill. "Till tomorrow, sis."

  She hung up the phone and went upstairs to prepare for bed. It had been an interesting day, and tomorrow would likely be just as interesting. Jill couldn't help but wonder what Shale would say, or whether he would reprimand her as Megan feared.

  Whatever was in store, she was pleased to note that she felt no fear. She just felt confident and noted that she'd passed the whole day without a single submissive fantasy. Maybe this job was just what she needed. Maybe the empowerment of taking on a man like Brad Chadwick was the key to the cure she sought. It seemed unlikely, but a year ago who'd have thought she'd be a personality on ANN? It seemed to Jill Parmele that anything could happen.

  Chapter Four

  Part I

  When Jill arrived at her office at 8:15 the next morning, she began to regret not having an assistant - even an untrustworthy one. The message light on her phone was blinking and she'd no sooner set her briefcase down when the ANN receptionist, a short, prim-looking woman approaching retirement age - walked in with a beleaguered look on her face.

  "Here," she said, handing Jill a stack of phone messages. "It seems you're a star. Anyone who's anyone in the media wants to interview you."

  "What?" Jill took the slips and began to look through them. "Why?"

  "Maybe this will explain," said the older woman and took the newspaper tucked under her arm, unfolded it, and handed it to Jill.

  "Liberal trumps conservative chump in ANN debate," the headline read.

  "Oh, good heavens," said Jill. "You've got to be kidding."

  "Since when does the media kid?" asked the receptionist and then patted Jill's arm. "And by the way," she added quietly. "Good work. These dinosaurs had it coming. I'm just glad to see it was a woman who finally handed their asses to them."

  Jill was so startled that she could only stare at the receptionist.

  "Why the shock, dearie?" asked the other woman. "Do you think just because I'm old it means I don't sympathize? I marched for feminism and civil rights. Of course, I didn't put that on my resume when I applied here ten years ago but some jobs you take while holding your nose. When one hits a certain age executive secretarial positions are rare as hens teeth. But ANN figured I could still answer phones so here I am. Been with the bastards ever since."

  Now Jill couldn't help but laugh. "Finally, a friend," she said, not doubting for a moment that the receptionist was the genuine article. "Thank you..."

  "Lois," the woman said. "Lois Sharp."

  "Lois," Jill repeated and then watched as the older woman began to walk away. Lois was halfway down the hall when the idea came to her. Leaping from her chair, she ran until she caught up with the receptionist.

  "Lois," she said. "You may have heard that I'm looking for a new assistant."

  Lois cackled. "Everybody has."

  "Wait," Jill said, taking her arm. "I was wondering if, um, if you'd be interested. I need someone smart, someone I can trust. Someone who understands and who knows these people."

  The older woman looked at her. "Sure," she said. "Just match my pay and keep in mind that I'll knock off at 4:30 whether you like it or not."

  "Done," said Jill with a grin and a sigh of relief. "I'll tell Bill Shale what I wa
nt. Hopefully he'll approve it."

  Lois laughed again. "I'll pack my desk. Right now you've got more power than you even realize."

  Part II

  Jill knew things had changed the moment she walked into Bill Shale's office. Rather than the slightly condescending air she was used to, they all looked at her with an uncertainty. Even Brad Chadwick sat up a little straighter, adopting a more defensive posture than he had at their first meeting. At that time he hadn't considered a liberal woman a threat. Now that he knew what she was capable of, his body language betrayed a man prepared to be more cautious.

  "Gentlemen," said Jill as she took her seat.

  For a moment, Bill Shale said nothing but just sat back rocking slightly in his chair. It was clear he was choosing his words and the chair creaked as he pondered what he was going to say. This thoughtfulness on behalf of a network head with a reputation for bullying was, Jill suspected, also new.

  Finally, Shale sat forward and picked up two pieces of paper. He held them out to Jill, who - seeing they were identical - passed one to Chadwick.

  "Last night's ratings," said Shale. "As you can see they are impressive. Very impressive. The blogosphere went wild with a blow-by-blow of our live taping so the midnight replay had the largest late night rating of any show in the market, including the late night talkies." He paused. "So why am I not completely thrilled?"

  He waited, looking at Jill. Jill knew what Shale was trying to do. He expected her to explain the eruptions during breaks and after the previous night's show. It angered Jill that Shale was obviously holding her responsible, although it didn't surprise her. But the fact that Shale obviously sought to put the blame on her didn't mean she was going to play his stupid game.