Page 2 of Independence Bae

“Unfortunately, Lucas Hursch passed away about a year ago. I’m sorry you aren’t familiar with him. His enterprise is far reaching, you probably know him best from his media magazine, Media, Inc.”

“Yes!” Raven’s eyes lit with recollection, “Robert Bleeder—the radio reporter. That’s his magazine.”

Robert Bleeder. We all knew him. He was the first to know about significant changes at any television or radio station—I still had his article from when he discussed Raven’s and my ouster from The Skull. At least he’d been kind.

“There honestly aren’t enough adjectives in the dictionary to describe the impact Lucas has had on our industry or what a stand-up guy he was. They broke the mold with Lucas Hursch.”

It was rare Leon wasn’t going at warp speed. He couldn’t be more New York if you spray painted him green, handed him a lamp and a book and called him the Statue of Liberty. He juggled a million thoughts at once, answered a phone call and email simultaneously, and always worked five or six deals for you while he negotiated the one you wanted. He was the perfect agent. I say all of this because at that moment, he was silent. Something I’d never experienced in all the years he represented us. Whomever this Hursch guy was, clearly the two had been close at some point. I didn’t want to disrespect the memory of a colleague he had, but honestly my anxiety had launched me into the solar system and I just needed him to bottom line whatever the fuck he called us for.

“That’s not the point of this call however.”

Thank fuck.I grumbled under my breath, drawing a swift punch in the shoulder from Raven.

“Hursch is now being run by Genevieve Hursch. His daughter. Some people know her as Ivy Hursch—she was a mover and shaker in the Chicago Market.”

Jesus we apparently were going through the entire patrilineage of this guy and their company before we got to the fucking point of this phone call.

“Leon,” Raven interjected. “What does this have to do with us?”

God I loved her. The magic of our partnership and the reason that we had been able to succeed as a duo all of these years, I’m certain, is our ability to balance one another. Where I was short tempered, she had the patience of a kindergarten teacher. Where she was brash, I could charm a smile out of the dourest person.

“Ivy Hursch would like a meeting with the two of you.”

“A meeting? With us? For what reason?” Raven’s voice raised nearly an octave, while she furiously searched for something to write on.

“I’m not a hundred percent on the finer details.” Leon hedged. I could picture him sitting in his Manhattan office, sockless, his dreds tied in a manbun, in an undershirt and sport coat, hands tucked behind his head. “Genevieve called me herself. Not an underling or an executive assistant, and wanted to know what it would take to buy out your contract. Her exact words. Of course we know the answer to that is practically nothing since you’re working in the middle of nowhere and their attorney isn’t even in house. She wants to send the jet tomorrow to bring the two of you to Chicago.”

“Wait. Hold on Leon. I don’t just jump because someone gives you a call and tells you to tell us to jump. What is this about?”

The room felt like it was shifting on its side. Raven’s voice sounded robotic and disconnected, and my T-shirt suddenly felt as if it were strangling me centimeter by centimeter.

“Like I just said to Raven three minutes ago Ted—I don’t know. She didn’t give me any details other than she was really interested in the two of you. She wanted details on your contract and wondered if there was potential to get you out of the contract you have with WNPL.”

I tried to focus on Raven but was having a hard time keeping her in my line of sight. The outer edges of my eyes had gone wobbly.

“Leon, we have a show tomorrow, we can’t just sayoh hey everyone out in radioland sorry but we hopped a flight to Chicago today.So, let us huddle and get back to you. Did she indicate any proposed flight time or anything further?”

Raven put her hand on my shoulder. Her hands were always cold. Especially right when we came off the air. The studio air was frigid regardless of the time of year, but as we moved into summer and temperatures started to climb, the A/C went into overdrive to keep all the equipment cool, and us a smidge above Eskimo.

“Tell you what, you guys chat, figure out how you can work a trip to Chicago around the show, and I’ll see if I can hammer down any more details from Ms. Hursch. Keep your phones nearby.”

The line disconnected without any formalities like “goodbye” or “chat soon.”

“The hell was that?” Raven paced, twisting her hair into a bun on top of her head. That was a new development as well, Raven’s hair. Where it had been black, green, purple or some other dark and foreboding color for as long as I knew her, Ms. Tillie Raven Alden now sported pink hair. And not hot pink or magenta mind you, but the tips of her hair were the most precious cotton candy pink. The rest of her hair she said was a slow process of “growing out” and was presently less black more dark gray. It suited her, but also was a complete divergence from her usual look.

“I don’t know what to make of this at all,” I told her, typing Ivy’s name into Google to see what information the old internets could provide us.

“No, I mean the panic attack you just had.”

“Panic attack? Me? Please.” I tried to hide my lie beneath a bravado I didn’t feel. “I’m annoyed that whomever this Ivy Hursch is, she is misguided in believing we will ask how high when she suggests we jump.”

I could tell just by the downturned set of her mouth she didn’t buy my false bravado, but she didn’t challenge me on it.

“Honestly this could be a good thing, Ted. I mean, we may finally have served out our sentence in purgatory. Maybe she can get us back to New York? I say we tell her we’ll fly to Chicago after the show on Friday.”

“Is this a you and Raven trip, or a trip for the four of us?”

I’d completely forgotten Marley was in the room with us.

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