THE CHILDREN’S HOUR

Megan looked at her watch again. It had been a full forty-five minutes of waiting in the producer’s office for someone to fetch her so she could do the interview. She contemplated murdering her editor and got up to get a cup of coffee.

As she sipped the coffee and looked around, she went over in her mind why she had agreed to do this puff piece. She normally didn’t write profiles of entertainers, but the magazine wanted to curry favor with a certain studio, so her editor had assigned her this story. She was to do a profile of Raymond Bradshaw, known as Mr. Sunshine, host of the very popular children’s show, The New Neighborhood. While he wasn’t as big as say, Barney the Dinosaur, he did have a following.

As she finished the coffee, and very blond young woman, who couldn’t be more than twenty two, came into the office. She went to the receptionist, who pointed to Megan. She walked over slowly, her eyes never meeting Megan’s.

"Miss Price?" she asked, somewhat shyly.

Megan gave a polite smile. "Yes."

She sighed. "My name is Tiffany, I’m Mr. Bradshaw’s assistant. I’m afraid he can’t do the interview today."

Megan’s shoulders slumped. "Wonderful." She sucked air through her teeth. "I’ll have my editor call back and try to get another appointment. I know its difficult handling all that free publicity." She went to her chair and got her briefcase. Tiffany followed her over. "On behalf of Mr. Sunshine and everyone at Walters Productions, I apologize." Before Tiffany could say anything else, she left.

She left the studio and pulled out her cell phone, calling her editor as she walked down the street. He answered.

"Hey kiddo. What’s the good word?"

She grimaced. "There is none. He blew me off."

There was a pause and Megan guessed he was cursing, but covering the speaker. "All right." He said when he came back. "I’ll try and set it up again. You have something else to work on?"

"I’ll be back after lunch and go through my story file. See you then." She turned off and looked around. She saw what looked like an English pub. She shrugged and went in.

The place was dark. She went to the bar and looked at the menu posted behind it. A tall, dark haired man came over. "What’ll it be?"

She sighed. "Fish and chips, and a light beer." She looked at the wall behind the bar, and saw a number of photographs. The people in them weren’t household name-type celebrities, but they were recognizable. "Fan club?" she asked, pointing to the wall.

The waiter looked behind him to the wall. "Oh yeah. We get a lot of traffic from the studio."

Megan looked closer. What she saw surprised her. A picture of Raymond Bradshaw, not dressed in his typical kiddie-show get up, was posted. "Is that Mr. Sunshine?"

The waiter grinned. "Oh, yeah. Good customer here. He and some buddies have a poker game here every Friday."

Megan looked at him quizzically. "Mr. Sunshine comes here to play poker?"

The waiter chuckled. "Yep. They play for money but since they’re good customers, it’s all on the QT." He looked at her. "You’re not a cop, right?"

Megan sighed. "Nope. I write for a magazine. I was supposed to do a profile of Mr. Sunshine today, but that didn’t happen."

The waiter looked around. "If you’re looking for friends of his, one of his poker buddies, Travis Martin, is here. He pointed to a corner, where Megan saw a gray-haired man in a sweater idly picking at chicken and drinking.

Megan smiled. Perhaps she would have a story after all. She gave the waiter a five. "Have my order delivered there and give him another beer on me." She wandered over to the table.

* * * * *

What she learned from Travis was amazing. Apparently Mr. Sunshine was a player. In addition to the poker game, he regularly went on junkets to Vegas. She also got the names of the rest of the people in the weekly poker game. She left the bar and hailed a taxi.

"Marcel Art Gallery, please." She told the driver as she got in. Once they were going, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed her editor.

"Paul, hi. This is Megan. I might have story after all. Let me get back to you in a couple of hours."

Once they hit the gallery, she immediately walked in, went to the receptionist and asked for James Sandoval.

"May I ask what this is about?" Said the receptionist.

"I need to talk to him about a friend of his – Raymond Bradshaw."

She called and got an answer. "He’ll be out shortly."

Ten minutes later, a very charming, well-dressed man came walking out. "Ms. Price?" he asked, and extended his hand. "I’m James Sandoval. I run the gallery here."

She smiled and shook it. "Pleased to meet you. Can we talk for a bit?"

He gestured. "Certainly." He gestured. "Shall we go into my office?"

She followed him into a spacious office in the back.

He sat down at his desk. "How can I help you?"

Megan pulled out a pad and a pen. "I need to ask you about a friend of yours. Raymond Bradshaw."

He looked faintly surprised, but seemed open. "What do you need to know?"

"Well, I’ve talked to another friend of his – all of you are in the same poker game – and he said Mr. Bradshaw does gamble a lot. In addition to that poker game, he does go to Vegas rather regularly, and does go to the horse races a lot."

He half-grinned and chuckled. "Ray….Ray is definitely a player. He does gamble a lot, but, hey, he can handle it. He’s got that TV show now for what, a decade?"

"What else do you know?"

He scratched his chin. "Hmmm. I did hear rumors that he was into some illegal bookies for a big sum. Ended up selling a property to call them off."

Megan’s eyes widened. Raymond Bradshaw involved with the mob? That was a big thing. "Can you confirm that?"

He shook his head. "Nope. He told us it was losing money, but it doesn’t seem likely."

Megan wrote on her notepad. "Well, thank you very much, Mr. Sandoval. Do you have a card?" She stood up.

He fished around and found one, standing up and giving it to her. "Is Ray in any sort of trouble?"

Megan shook her head. "Nah. I’m just collecting some info on him. Part of my job."

"Which is?"

Megan opened her mouth, and then shut it, a little embarrassed. "Oh, yes. I write for a magazine. The Reader’s Journal." She put the card in her purse, along with her pen and pad. She opened the door and let herself out.

* * * * *

A couple of days later, she sat in her editor’s office feeling a little smug as he read through her article. "The Dark Side of Mr. Sunshine."

He put the last page down and stared up at her. "This is incredible. Good stuff, Meg." He looked at her. "This isn’t a vendetta thing is it?"

She snorted. "Like I care about Mr. Sunshine, one way or another. I was just going to write about the man behind the image, but this just sort of fell in my lap."

He patted the pages. "Well, this is gold. I’ll need to run it by the fact checkers. Do you have sources?"

She produced a page, detailing all of Bradshaw’s poker buddies she had talked to and the property management firm which had bought the real estate he had sold. "All can confirm what I’ve said about him." He took the page and put it with the article. "OK then." She had just stood up when the phone rang. He answered it. "Walker here."

Megan was about to leave, when he exclaimed, "What?" he looked up and gestured for her to sit down. "You’re kidding. Well, we’ll get it to you. She can confirm everything. I just proofed the article." He set the phone down.

"What was that?"

"Mr. Sunshine’s attorneys just filed a motion to block the article from being published."

Megan’s eyebrows went up. "Now that’s interesting."

"I’ll say. How did he learn we were doing this?"

She noted his choice of words. "Well, some of the people I talked to are personal friends, and I had to identify myself. One of them might have tipped him off."

"Well, we’ll have legal do its business." He handed her back the article and her sources. "Take this down to legal. I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you."

Megan took the article and left.

* * * * *

In the next couple of days, the legal department of the magazine faced off against Bradshaw’s attorney. The magazine would not kill the article, and while it was willing to negotiate about a few things, the biggest one – that Raymond Bradshaw, noted host of a children’s television program, was a gambling addict – was not open for discussion.

After three days of negotiations, they went to court, and the motion was set aside. Megan’s article would be featured in the next issue.

"Dammit!" yelled Raymond, upon hearing the news. He was in his office, along with the executive producer, his agent, and the studio rep. The phone dropped from his hand. "The story will get published."

"Don’t we have any options?" asked the executive producer.

The studio rep shook his head. "We don’t have any pull with them yet. All this means is that we won’t be doing any future business with them." He looked Raymond square in the eyes. "If someone had done their job and talked with the nice lady, we might have had a chance."

"Raymond is a busy man….." Started Ray’s agent.

"Oh can it, Walter." He snapped back. "The shit’s gonna hit the fan, Ray, and it’s not gonna be pretty. We’re gonna have to seriously think about continuing production." He got up and left, along with the producer.

Walter got up and began to follow. "Hey, Alan, wait up." He looked back at Raymond. "We’ll talk later. Think about what you can do."

Raymond reached into a drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. At least he could do that.

* * * * *

That night, Megan was watching TV in her apartment. She heard the buzz from her doorbell. Odd, since she lived in a building where tenants controlled access and no one had buzzed her from the outside, but not entirely uncommon. She got up and went to the door, and opened it.

A very drunk, angry-looking Raymond Bradshaw was there.

Megan raised her eyebrows. "Is there something you want?"

He pulled a gun. "Shaddup and get back inside."

Megan recoiled from him. She tried to slam the door but he braced his arm against it. She backed up in growing horror.

Raymond followed her in and closed the door. "Sit down."

Quite scared, Megan did as she was told. He followed her in and grabbed the remote, turning the TV off.

When he faced her again, she found her voice. "What do you want?"

He came over and looked at her. "What did I ever do to you, you bitch, that you had to ruin my life?"

She swallowed nervously. "Mr. Bradshaw, someone would have found out eventually. You know the media today."

"I HAD IT UNDER CONTROL!" He began pacing around the room. "You – you’re like some busybody. Just have to keep digging where you shouldn’t, sticking you’re nose in where it doesn’t belong. This was MY problem. MY personal life."

While he ranted, Megan covertly pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911, then just placed it so both she and Bradshaw could be heard

He faced her again. "Where the hell do you get off, lady?"

She looked at him. "Where do you get off coming to my apartment and pulling a gun on me? Even if it was bad press, so what? You could have worked with it. Took yourself in new directions."

He shook his head. "I like what I do. Or rather, did. Once the public reads this, my career is over."

"It’s all true. All you did was delay the inevitable. And this…..this isn’t going to help."

He chuckled without any humor. "Yeah. Like I have a future anyway."

She steeled herself. "What are you planning to do?"

He worked his jaw. "I don’t know." He pointed the gun at her. "Mebbe I should start by ruining your life in return."

Suddenly, the door broke open and two policemen rushed in. Both had guns drawn. "All right, FREEZE!" said one of the cops. "You – drop the gun." He pointed at Bradshaw.

The two came forward as Raymond did so. "You OK, lady?" asked one. The other put handcuffs on Raymond and began pulling him outside.

Megan let out her breath and nodded.

There was chaos outside Megan’s building. Several police cars were there, as were television reporters and curious bystanders. Everyone looked a little surprised as a TV personality, a children’s television host, was taken away in handcuffs.

The police finished taking Megan’s statement. Just then, her editor Paul came in. "Megan! Thank god you’re all right!" he came forward and hugged her.

Megan nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." She was rattled, but still in control.

She went to the window and watched the police car with Raymond Bradshaw in it drive away. "I think the children’s hour is over."