Good Sister, The by Diana Diamond Read Free Book Online

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    “Line up someone to fill in for you tomorrow,” Peter told her over the phone. “You may have to host half of the floating cocktail party.”
    “Peter …”
    “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t essential. We’ve got a big investment in this week and I don’t want any slipups.”
    He had said ask , but Jennifer knew from his tone that he was really telling. If there had to be a second boat, she was going to be on it. And if she was honest with herself, she knew that she could handle it. Her first day of greeting guests had gone better than she could have imagined. In fact, she had enjoyed it.
    Most of the visitors, she found, were polite and well informed. The financial people were filled with admiration for the enormous investment that Pegasus had put in place, and had specific questions on costs of taking films from one point to another. Producers were more interested in the technology. How did a film get on her network? How was it safeguarded against piracy? Directors were concerned about quality. How much of the definition and color were lost in transmission? Screen owners wondered how they would tap the network.
    Jennifer had answers for all. She understood questions and the concerns behind them and went to great lengths to provide complete information. She simulated satellites with glasses on a table and drew the interlocking footprints on the tablecloth. She led audiences to two theater screens playing the same film and challenged them to decide which image came from a duplicate
print and which had traveled around the world via satellite signals. She described encryption techniques that would block theft by all but the most sophisticated and best-equipped pirates. I know this business, she told herself in the midst of one of her presentations. I know it better than our engineers do, because I understand the true impact of the technology. I know it better than Peter, because he’s too focused on the money. I know it better than Catherine, who doesn’t really care what she’s selling. So, why have I spent my career in the basement?
    It was while she was congratulating herself that she had seen Padraig O’Connell leaning into the group that surrounded her and heard her own voice lose its cadence. She had seen the expatriate Irish actor in a dozen films and recognized him instantly, even though he was a bit older and a few pounds heavier in person. A signature starlet clung to his arm. When their eyes had made contact, he flashed his screen smile, and Jennifer was aware that she had stopped talking altogether.
    O’Connell had lingered as Jennifer’s audience disbursed and asked a few questions about the cost of satellite distribution. Odd, Jennifer thought, for an actor who was generally credited with enormous overruns on his pictures. She had teased him about his new interest in economy and he had answered that he was switching to the other side of the table to launch his own production company. “A bit long in the tooth to be hanging out of helicopters,” he had allowed. “It’s about time I went to work.”
    He had dismissed his starlet with a playful pat on her rump and given Jennifer his full attention, which she found both flattering and exciting. Even as they talked business, she had enjoyed being so close to a star. O’Connell had come to Hollywood in a serious Irish film that had picked up half a dozen Oscars, and had stayed for ten years in leading-man roles. His melodic voice and cheeky manner had made him a natural as the unflappable adventurer who saved mankind from a series of diabolical plots. The roles received little critical acclaim but, as his producers frequently remarked, they certainly put fannies in the seats. O’Connell’s going rate had reached $10 million a film.

    His personal life had been every bit as colorful, including rumored romances with several leading ladies, two of whom were tossed out by their husbands. He had also made headlines in auto racing, racking up a