(2018-11-16) Job Talk IV
What has Bianca been up to now?
Players:
bianca..heather..

It's that time again. Time for Heather to get a rundown on what her ace reporter is up to…that's Bianca. The boss is looking over a business proposal as she waits. Something about investing in the Winchester Hotel redevelopment - everyone wants her money! Heather wants her money most of all. Where did it all go?

There are a couple of cocktails already mixed and waiting…and more where that came from. Heather tosses the papers onto the table with a sigh before pressing an intercom button. "Is Beezy…umm…Ms Malice here yet?"

Ace Reporter, Bianca Malice has had helluva week! She's done her research, she's gone investigateering, she's seen some things, she's prepped her lines, she's… everyone gets the idea. The blonde knows she's got a bombshell of a story, and so she's floating into the KCC1 building on Cloud 9, her head so far up in the sky (some would say her own ass) that her nose is just a teensy bit upturned.

A too-smug smirk hides just under the movie-star sunglasses she wears indoors. Like an asshole. But there's a reason for that.

"Beezy is here!" Proclaims the reporter as she flings open the office door like she's Cosmo Kramer, one hand on the knob, the other on the door frame, striking a hip-cocked, saucy little pose with a too-wicked grin on her face. Wearing a casual, cream-colored blouse to go with her black skirt and sensible heels, the Denver native closes the door behind her before she saunters into the office with an extra sway in her step, beelining for the cocktail already prepped for her nearly-alcoholic benefit.

The glass is scooped up at the same time she pulls off her sunglasses, revealing one Hell of a nasty, though healing, black eye, depositing her purse in a chair rather than seating herself. The drink is tilted back, her throat working as she chugs it like a frat pledge during Rush Week, holding up a finger to stifle conversation until she can set down the empty glass again with an 'Ahhhhh'.

"Always trying to get me drunk. If you were a man, I'd suspect foul motives. But that's neither here, nor over there, because I have- Did… did you move things around in here?"

Bianca always knows how to make an entrance. Heather sits back in her seat, wry smile on her face, as she enjoys the show. As the cocktail is consumed so quickly, she pushes her own across the table since it is obvious her top reporter needs it more than her. Especially with that shiner.

"Ouch, who did you upset? /Foul/ motives? I'm hurt, Beezy, that you would think it foul" Heather smirks. The boss dressed in her usual business suit, jacket over her chair, white shirt pressed to perfection. God she hates wearing this stuff. "You look happy with yourself. What time is the court appointment?"

"The fouler the better, I say." Says the Beez as she leans forward, her expression brightening just a bit, to take the second drink as well. That's why Heather was the best! Always anticipating her employee's needs, whatever they may be. "I used to date this guy who-"

"You know what?" The blonde holds up a finger as she softly perches a hip on the edge of the desk, her expression turning thoughtful. "That's an inappropriate story. And there is no court appointment THIS time!" The reporter looks triumphantly smug about that, before admitting. "Okay, there is, but only as a material witness! Honest!"

"So I got this rather lovely bit of decoration." Bianca sips her drink as she touches the corner of her eye with a slight wince. The outer edge of the bruise was already turning yellowish as it healed. "From a member of the Rattler Motorcycle Club. 'Club' in quotation marks. I might have been posing as a basic bimbo and poking around where I shouldn't have been based on a rumor that a little birdie, who wishes to remain anonymous, whispered in my ear. Got caught by this fat-strong, more-hair-on-his-face-than-his-head neckbeard. Tazed him in the balls and he didn't take too kindly to that."

"They tied me up in a back room, smashed my phone, too. The cavalry came and saved my ass, and, luckily for me, this besmirching mark on my beauty wasn't for nothing, because every picture was saved in the Cloud. Oh, B-T-Dubs, I need a new phone. I can expense that, yeah?"

Because Bianca Malice also wants Heather's money.

Heather sits and listens…as she often does. Taking it all in as calmly as possible. "You should really let me know about these undercover jaunts of yours /before/ you do them. I would be in a much better place to protect you, or, you know, rescue you from being tied up in back rooms. Basic bimbo? How is an advanced bimbo different?" A wave of her hand to indicate it is a rhetorical question.

"So what's the story? Trespassing reporter gets captured by gang and rescued by police? That's an epilogue. What was the story that had you in there in the first place?" Heather sighs softly. "Though, now you're a material witness, we can't air it anyway since that would prejudice the case." A deep breath to calm herself. "Yes, you can get another phone on expenses. I assume the cavalry was the Chief? How did they know you were in there?"

"If I thought through half of what I did, babe, I'd never get anything done." Bianca lifts her non-drinking hand in a 'what can I do?' sort of gesture, before taking a large gulp that drains half of the beverage that she's holding. Then she opens her mouth to answer the rhetorical question, only to close it again with a grin when she's waved off. There is never a lack of smart-assed answers where the blonde is concerned.

"Ah, but that is the beauty of it, my darling paycheck underwriter! See, I am a material witness in one case, my own illegal detainment, because fucking obviously. But I was there in the first place, going distinctly non-advanced-bimbo, because my little nose, and an anonymous source, told me they were up to good. Specifically talking about drugs."

"And the nose knew, because they had soooooooo much heroine. Like, just… all of it. All the heroine. And in THAT little court case, I am not mentioned. Some may, allegedly, believe me to be the anonymous tipper that preceded and prompted the police raid and led to thirteen arrests."

"But this is big, like DEA big. I don't know what they know, but I do know they showed up. Wouldn't answer any questions, and Chief Chen was as tight-assed with answers as ever, on-the-record. But Federal means interstate, which means trafficking. Through Calaveras."

Bianca leans off of the desk as she tosses back the rest of her drink, heading towards the liquor bottles for a third round. "They didn't have any manufacturing equipment, which means they're just the distributors. Some real Sons of Anarchy meets Breaking Bad shit." Bianca turns to look at Heather over her shoulder. "So we running the story, right?" She says, neatly sidestepping the question of how she got out of there. "Even if you don't want me in front of the camera on it, which would be insane because I'm amazing, we HAVE to run this!"

"So you brought down heroin trafficking in the town?" Heather asks, seeking to ensure that is what she heard. "If I was Chief Chen, I would say 'Good work, Detective'. But since I'm not, I'll have to say, 'Good work, Beezy.'" A nod. "Of course we'll run it. Did you try talking to any of the Feds in town? DEA?"

Heather tilts her head a little as she studies her hard-drinking employee - she really needs less of the expensive stuff in this room. "And what does Chief Chen say 'off the record'? I'm sure I don't have to tell you that is code for 'anonymous sources'. If she wants to deny it, that's her problem. But as long as she said it, and you're not making shit up, it's all good to go as far as I'm concerned."

"A lot of distribution is done through this town" Heather nods, "And with tourist season starting up, there will be a lot of people up at the resort enjoying the snow…both outdoors and indoors. Maybe we should send you undercover as a maid? You'd probably need a wig though. You have been seen on television. And this anonymous tip of yours. Any chance they were working for a competing distributor?"

"I uncovered ONE trafficking operation in town. But the DEA wouldn't give me the time of day. And the one Fed in Calaveras that I know of doesn't… exactly seem like she's going to be my best friend. I can try reaching out to her, but I don't think this is going to be FBI territory."

As Bianca stirs her new drink with a little straw, she meanders back towards the desk, lifting a leg to half sit along the side of it. Her mouth puckers in a duck-lipped expression of thought. "Chief Chen is a very guarded woman around reporters. Getting hard information out of her, even tidbits, requires a Zen-like mountain of patience and an aura of finesse that I just don't have. Sorry, boss. I think the only time Chen is going to be a major source of just about anything is during press briefings or eavesdropping. And I didn't manage to overhear anything, either. No idea what their theories are."

"…Yet. But I have my ways." The reporter's eyes narrow dramatically, followed by a small nod to herself. "I have my ways."

"Let's call my little chickadee a 'disgruntled former employee'. Hesitant at first, but men always open up when they think you're one good answer away from going down on them." Bianca bobs her eyebrows comically before shifting her thoughts to undercover work. "I can do undercover. Problem is we don't know which rooms would need 'cleaning', and I'm not so great at faking not speaking English. And while I'm dynamite in a frilly skirt, my abominable handling of a featherduster would immediately give me away."

"In the meantime, I'll use my wily ways to try and pry something out of one of the rookie officers. One of them has got to know a little something about who the Rattlers are rolling over on."

"Yeah…the Rattlers. Doesn't really inspire terror, does it?" Heather muses, "It's not really far off from calling themselves 'Rattles'. Though I guess they are all babies at heart. Probably the kind who get arrested for 'Having sex with a fire hydrant'. Please make sure you don't become a prostitute with your wily ways, Beezy" she smirks.

"The Fed seems to be here for the Cult murders. Have you been able to find anything on those?" There is a lot of crime for poor Bianca to check on, but she is the best reporter Heather has. Only reporter Heather has? "A disgruntled former employee? Of a biker club? Yeah…I'd look further into that one, Beezy. You might have been used. And I don't mean for a blow job." A nod at the problems of Undercover Bianca. "Just a thought. Anything else you've been working on or have heard about?"

Bianca looks away from Heather at the warning about becoming a prostitute, slamming her third drink down and then setting the empty vessel on the desk right near where her bottom is perched while she swallows. "You don't have to worry about it. I left that in the rear view."

She brightens up again almost immediately, like it's a defense mechanism. "Hey, I didn't pick their name. I think they legitimately thought they were being scary, and by the time they realize they've named themselves after a child's toy, it was too late. Such a sad, sad fate for a pack of wild animals, amirite?"

As the conversation turns to cult murders, Bianca runs a finger through her hair and shakes it out, even as she shakes her head in the negative. "Not a peep about them yet. But then, there's only one of me, and just so, so much shit going on. I do what I can, but the sooner you figure out how to clone me, the better off we'll be."

There's a laugh then, "I didn't blow him, shit! Just gave him the impression. And what I meant was that he was a former member. From before Lady Vick took over the Club. Let's just say he has some real problems with women in positions of authority." The blonde lifts a shoulder casually at the last question, before pushing off the desk to stand next to it. "Other than you trying to put me in costumes like Barbie Dress Up, no. This and the follow-up took up most of my time. Edits are getting done now, should be ready by the next Six o'Clock cycle."

"If I cloned you, I would spend all my day trying to mediate between you both. And cleaning up the semi-destroyed office" Heather sighs, "But you are right. Sort of. I need another decent reporter. Know any? Daphne Derlinger may be able to read the news but she couldn't find her ass with both hands and a map. Nice ass though." No comments about Bianca's rear view.

"Let's hope the Nappies don't come to town and start a war with the Rattles. That could get messy." Heather nods about the cult murders. "That's gone quiet all round. Which usually means something big is going to happen. They still have one of the cultists under guard in the hospital. I should see if I can sneak in. Lady Vick? She's in the slammer now? Might make a good story - the woman who rose to the top of the shit heap. What is it like standing on shit?" A nod and a thumbs up about the story being ready for the next news. "Get me the cut as soon as it's ready."

"Mmhmm." Bianca raises her eyebrows in thought for a moment, before nodding her head in agreement to the assessment of Daphne Derlinger's derriere. "I don't know what kind of glute workout she has going on, but I need to find out and copy-paste it to my own time at the gym ASAP."

The reporter glances towards the liquor again, mentally weighing the pros and cons of going for foursies. Already a little buzzed, another one is likely to push her over the edge into 'slightly drunk' territory. Probably not a good thing in the boss' office. Plus she doesn't need (more) people thinking she's an alcoholic! So instead, she looks back at Heather just in time to chuckle.

"Let's tag-team it, gurl-fran. I'll distract, you interrogate. That's not a comment on your physical attractiveness, just me saying that those cult killings scared the piss out of me. I still see that shit when I close my eyes."

She turns to start moving towards her purse, only to turn back again as a lightbulb is light off behind her big, blue eyes at something Heather mentions. "Oh, shit! I never even thought of that. A nice little expose on the Life and Times of Vicky Martinez! Shit, that probably would make a pretty damned good fill-piece. Nice. I guess that's why you pay yourself the big bucks, amirite?"

The Beez slips a finger-gun in the station-owner's direction. "You'll have it soon as it's done. After they work their… whatever techie geek crap on it. I tried to get them to explain it to me once, but my brain went into emergency shut down so I wouldn't die of boredom."

"I pay myself less than I pay you" Heather laughs. "Hey, at least two minute noodles don't cost much…and I can cook them to an edible state." A nod about the edit. "You know I trust you, Beezy…" As much as you can trust someone called Beezy. "…but I would like to check your segment scripts every now and then. Especially anything that will get the lawyers onto us. Scum sucking, dirty…sorry…they're just doing their jobs. Shame their job is to be scum sucking, dirty bastards."

A deep breath. Calm, Heather. No need for the staff to feel worried. "Okay, I'll try and keep you away from the Cult stuff. Even though you are my best reporter, Beezy. And I'm not saying that because your ass needs greasing, I mean it. And your ass is better than Daphne's already." She picks up the investment papers again. "If that is all, get yourself out there and kick butt. Thanks for doing a great job, Beezy."

"Yeah. Lawyers. Fuck 'em." Bianca agrees all-too-readily. The bane of any good reporter’s existence! Right up there with cops who believe in things like 'no trespassing laws' and 'preserving the integrity of the crime scene'. Bunch of squares. "The only lawyers I've ever liked are the ones that have been on my side! And even then… eh…" One hand comes up and wobbles from side-to-side.

Bianca laughs as she turns around to move towards her purse again, patting herself on the rump with a dimple-baring grin. "Thanks boss. I do try to keep it in shape. Maybe I'll share MY glute exercise routine if you're lucky." That oversized purse she seems to carry the entire world, and a bag of bricks, in is picked up and slung over one shoulder.

"Getting out there. Kicking all the butts. Just text me if you feel the need to add more grease to my ass." The blonde pauses as with her hand on the door, half-turning to shake her head at Heather, her grin a little dimmer now. "Don't, ah, don't take me off the cult thing. I've seen a lot of shit, and some of it takes a piece of you away with it, you know? But this is the job. And I do my job, even the parts I don't like."

With a little two-fingered salute, the door handle is turned, and the portal flung wide open for the Beez to breeze through. "Want it open or closed?" She calls back over her shoulder, while walking away. "Too late, it's open!"

And then, as mysteriously as she came, she… walked down the hall. To ask Daphne Derlinger about her glute exercises.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License