Drama Is Her Middle Name Read Online Free PDF Page B

the skills of Barbara Walters, without the
lisp. And even though Delilah was a classic beauty, she was
non threatening. Where Katie Couric was cute—some even
thought
too
cute to be taken seriously—Delilah crossed over.
Early in her career she landed an interview with the vice
president of the United States. He was one of the more reclusive types who never granted interviews. He didn’t want to
be president and shunned the spotlight. But he agreed to an
exclusive with Delilah Summers that instantly made her a
player.
    Over the years, the name Delilah Summers became synonymous with big interviews—from the exposé with Michael
Jackson, to her gripping interview with Fidel Castro in Cuba.
    Delilah Summers was at the top of her game. Ritz Harper
was floundering—doing nights at an urban station with no
upside. And on this particular night, Ritz decided to shift the
balance as she reminisced over the airwaves about her old
friend.
    â€œI remember one night Delilah got so high that she passed
out on the steps of our dorm,” Ritz said. “People were walking over her like she was a lump of garbage. Can you imagine
that? I remember when she was giving head to every star on
the basketball team. Now she’s sitting down with heads of
state. Oops, did I say that?!”
    She certainly did. And it felt good. Ritz felt euphoric as
she purged the years of envy from her spirit, as she regurgitated the years of frustration. For years Ritz had wondered:
What if? What if
she
had done the things that Delilah had
done? Would she be a star today, too?
    But the burning question for Ritz in that moment was:
How solid was Delilah Summers’s star? Could it actually fall?
    â€œYeah, Delilah Summers . . . she may be a spokesperson for
safe sex now, but I know she turned a trick once and there
was nothing safe about it. She needed money to pay for her
room and her books and, well, she did what she had to do.
Then a few weeks later she finds out she’s pregnant, something about the rubber breaking. Well, I had to accompany
her to an abortion clinic not too long after that!”
    Ritz was
not
making it up. Delilah Summers had had an
abortion, and Ritz had driven her home. Ritz was not just her
roommate, she was Delilah’s only female friend. Delilah, who
didn’t particular care for women, shunned female friendship.
Ritz put up with a lot to be her friend. Ritz was so enamored
of Delilah, so in awe of her. She wanted to be like her and at
the same time wanted to be nothing like her. Ritz thought
she was better than Delilah. She couldn’t do what Delilah
seemed to be willing to do. But Ritz was also so intimidated
by Delilah that she felt compelled to take her shit and keep
her secrets. Ritz couldn’t even talk about her until this toasty
summer night many years later when it all came spilling out.
    â€œI’m just sick of all the hypocrites out there—all of these
so-called leaders who come off all perfect. I’m sick of the Jesse
Jacksons and his illegitimate baby. I’m sick of Al Sharp-ton and . . . well, where do I start? And I’m sick of Delilah
Summers!”
    The phone lines started to light up. Ritz had almost forgotten that she was on the air. She had missed her break and had
talked through two song rotations. The night program pretty
much ran without much interference. There wasn’t a producer, and Ritz operated her own boards.
    â€œRitz, I am sick of these people, too!” cried Terry in the
Bronx. “You go! It’s nice to know there’s someone out there
keeping it real!”
    â€œThank you, Terry!” Ritz said. “And what’s your favorite
station?”
    â€œWHOT! The place to be,” Terry said on cue. Ritz never
forgot to get the station ID in. Even though she veered from
the program—which was to promote the station, make a few
comments, and announce the next songs—she