The adventure continues toward the births of two sisters (who don't know they are sisters).
Again, deepest thanks and grateful acknowledgment to Grandmaster dweaver999 for his encouragement and for permitting me to publish this story. He created a world and filled it with real people; I merely scribble in the corners.
Thanks to a great composer and lyricist, Jim Steinman. When I was stuck trying to write this story, and about to let it all go overboard, there was Bonnie Tyler belting out Mr. Steinman's masterpiece--and everything was all right.
One more time I gratefully acknowledge earlier technical assistance from SA Penn Lady and Yes_Please. As they didn't read this story, they aren't technical editors/advisors strictly speaking, but their past help has been invaluable.
Finally, of course, I am solely responsible for any errors, inaccuracies or misstatements.
*
Valerie and Sally didn't speak as Valerie drove home. The roads were clear in the early afternoon, and the day, though cold, was bright. A cloudy day would have made the drive home even more depressing.
I should be elated
, Valerie thought,
and yet Sally is hurting; she isn't just playing, but I can't give up this baby. I won't, Sally or no Sally! And I have that damned meeting back at the office--oh, fuck it all!
She nearly missed the exit from the Interstate. Sally flinched as Valerie took the exit ramp hard, squealing the tires on her Lexus and making her even angrier. She braked hard at the top of the ramp, and squealed the tires again as she turned onto Spring Street.
Parking roughly and taking Sally inside, Valerie kissed her, removed her coat, and took her to their bedroom. "Just lie down and rest, darling. I'll come home and cook us a great dinner."
"Yes, Mistress," said Sally, looking at the floor. She sounded like a lonely, unhappy child. Valerie hugged her hard. "You know I love you. I love you," Valerie said desperately, hoping to break through Sally's pain--and her own. Valerie was afraid she hadn't succeeded, as Sally turned away and lay down.
Valerie had to leave. She could not miss the meeting.
*****
"Well," said the Colonel, "Rupie Murdoch has come out. He's making a tender for as much Delgrasi stock as he can get. Will and Rocky told him to fuck off, but the cousins, those motherfuckers would sell anybody and anything. And Rupie is throwing cash around like it's going out of style.
"I want us to try to figure out a way to keep Delgrasi Publications Delgrasi--and to give us inspiration, guys, if Rupie takes over, we-uns is all walkin' the plank. With no severance."
Jamie Whynch asked, "Can't Delgrasi borrow the money to buy out the cousins? I mean the corporation of course...from a bank or a hedge fund or somewhere? Are leveraged buyouts out of fashion?"
George Falstaf answered abruptly, "Good thought, Jamie, but it won't cut it. I understand Will Delgrasi approached the banks we deal with. Delgrasi is debt-free, and Rocky and Will haven't pledged their stock to anyone for a loan, so the banks'll lend for sure, even in this economy, but they won't lend nearly enough. Murdoch's paying well over the odds. And even if the banks would lend enough, Delgrasi would have to pay the banks every cent of the bottom line and more, for years, to pay off the loans. No bonuses, no benefits, salary cuts, take garbage ads just to raise cash--we'd lose our staff and go broke."
"Sounds like Rupie's gone crazy," someone said from the other end of the table (Valerie was thinking so hard that whoever was speaking didn't register).
"Like a fox," said the Colonel. "He's paying far more than our free cash flow would justify. But we have a niche and a moat and a franchise, all the fuckin' Buffet buzzwords. There's no meaningful competition for what we do."
Valerie spoke up at last; something had clicked. "Colonel," she began, then paused, and went on.
"I haven't seen our latest numbers, but we're nothing compared to News Corporation. Our free cash flow isn't even a rounding error on their balance sheet. Mr. Murdoch isn't buying our cash flow. And he sure isn't putting his name, and News Corp's name, on
Mastering Magazine
and
Pony's Paddock
and
Poly Living.
When
News of the World
got caught hacking cellphones and stealing stories, he shut them down and ran like a thief. Can you see the Tea Party crowd and the National Organization for Outlawing Marriage, and the crew that believes Fox News, cheering that their guru bought Jamie's latest story about better beatings before cock-and-ball torture? Or Dorothy's stories about multisexual sixsomes raising children?
"No sir! Mr. Murdoch wants something more than Delgrasi's magazines or their free cash flow. And I'm betting what he's buying is power. That's the only thing he'll spend that kind of money on, the kind you're talking about."
"Valerie," said George Falstaf, just slightly patronizing, "very interesting, but what's that got to do with Delgrasi Publications, Incorporated? What power do we have?"
"Not us, Mr. Falstaf," Valerie said, and paused again. "Our subscribers."
"Mother
fucker
!" The Colonel's big black fist hit the table with a crash. "Of course, dammit! He buys Delgrasi, he gets the subscriber lists. The names on there are fuckin'
dyna-mite
. Say you're a Senator, a Congressman, a Judge, the CEO of a major bank, or even Someone Bigger--you want it known you're in the lifestyle, while you're defending the Defense From Marriage Act? Bankrolling the homophobe politicians? While you're yipping it up about "Family Values"? Holy shit, girl, you got it!"
Valerie didn't mind the "girl", not from the Colonel. "I've never seen the real names on the subscriber lists..." she began.
"Of course not," Pedro Valdez from Circulation broke in, loudly. "I never have, and my business card says I'm the department head. They're guarded better than Fort fuckin' Knox. I only see box numbers and phony addresses."
Valerie went on, "but there must be names there that would tremble if Murdoch threatened to out them. Maybe even politicians and journalists and big campaign contributors from the liberal side, who he could smear real good...."
