Chapter Thirty-six
Marly and I went for Thai food in Hillcrest. All the things Fred had suggested—no, told us—about how to handle the show spun around my mind like a skipping record album on a turntable.
“He didn’t exactly wait for an answer,” I said as I reached for the pad thai. “He assumed we’d go along with whatever he said. I want to be sensitive to your needs because Gayline is your show, and well, he kind of insisted I get involved.”
“Fine by me. You’re part of why we’re getting extra advertising revenue,” she said.
“I don’t want you to be resentful.”
“It’s not like we’re trading places, but you do need to participate more. I told you, I think we make a great team. The numbers back it up.”
“I caught what he said about you almost losing your show last fall.”
“But I didn’t, did
