Drama Is Her Middle Name: The Ritz Harper Chronicles Vol. 1 - Softcover

Buch 1 von 3: Ritz Harper Chronicles

Williams, Wendy; Hunter, Karen

 
9780767924863: Drama Is Her Middle Name: The Ritz Harper Chronicles Vol. 1
Softcover
ISBN 10: 076792486X ISBN 13: 9780767924863
Verlag: Crown, 2006

Inhaltsangabe

Shock jock extraordinaire Wendy Williams lets loose with the first in a series of novels based on her alter ego, the divalicious radio DJ Ritz Harper. Ritz puts the s in shock and the g in gossip, and Drama is her middle name.

Ritz is a suburban girl on the outside, but inside she’s a hustler’s hustler who’s masterfully maneuvered her way into the spotlight after ruining the career of a well-respected newswoman (and former college friend). Ritz’s “exclusive” rockets her to the top of the ratings, and she’s rewarded with her very own show. Like a talking Venus flytrap, she verbally seduces her on-air guests, only to have them for lunch as she spews gossip about their lives.

Ritz becomes the darling of the station’s afternoon slot. But when Ritz goes from drive-time diva to drive-by victim, all she can think as she struggles to maintain consciousness is “Who did this to me?" Has Ritz bad-mouthed the wrong person? Has her signature cat-and-mouse “bomb drop” been dropped on her instead? Readers will salivate as they try to figure out where the fictional Ritz ends and the real-life Wendy begins.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

WENDY WILLIAMS is the host of The Wendy Williams Experience (WBLS 107.5 FM in NYC), which airs weekdays in the coveted 2 p.m.–7 p.m. drive-time slot, and has been named “Radio Personality of the Year” by Billboard. She is the author of The Wendy Williams Experience and Wendy's Got the Heat, which debuted at #9 on the New York Times Best Seller List. KAREN HUNTER is a Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist, radio cohost (WWRL), and former editorial board member of the New York Daily News. Hunter has coauthored several New York Times bestsellers, including On the Down Low, by J. L. King, and Wendy Williams’ nonfiction books.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

1


"I love you for listening!" Ritz signed off the air as she did every evening. She quickly scooped up the papers she had scattered on the desk in front of her and stuffed them into her white crocodile Gucci bag.

"Um, Ritz, you have a couple of faxes here that I think you should look at," said Jamie, nervously handing the papers over to Ritz. Jamie was the newest intern in a string to work on the Ritz Harper Excursion--one of the most popular radio shows in the country, syndicated from flagship station WHOT in New York City. Jamie had outlasted the ten before her by a month and counting.

"Do you want me to pick up your clothes from the cleaners?" she asked.

"Thanks, I'll get them myself. I have some time to kill and the fresh air will do me some good. Chas, are you coming?"

"Uh-uh. I have to clean up some of the mess you made today, Miss Thing," he said with his usual hint of attitude and humor. "But wait up, I'll walk you downstairs."

Jamie left to prepare for the next day's show. Chas grabbed his mink-lined shearling and Ritz slung her white fur over her slim frame. Winter white, head to toe. It was a typical Ritz outfit. If she didn't have a fly fur or some other extravagant accessory, she simply was not dressed.

She and Chas waited at the bank of elevators and rode the thirty-nine floors down to the lobby without stopping, like an express train. At this time of night, there were very few people left in the building.

At the lobby level, Ritz let her four-inch Jimmy Choos clop on the marble floor. She loved the sound heels made on marble, like a regal Clydesdale on a cobblestone road. She also loved the way stylish heels made her feel. Ritz, who had big doe eyes, dark sumptuous Godiva chocolate skin, a chiseled jaw, and Robin Givens-esque dimples, didn't always look or feel stylish. She just started wearing heels regularly a few years back--thanks to Chas--but had mastered them to the point where she could practically run a forty-yard dash in anything under five inches.

"So what do you and Tray-Tray have planned for tonight?" Chas asked.

"Nothing special, just some girl talk," Ritz said. "We have a lot of catching up to do. It's been almost a year."

"I know! Homegirl just packed up and never looked back," Chas said. "I miss her. She would have enjoyed the past few months of this ride, chile."

"I know. I know," Ritz said. "I'm just glad she's here for the next event. I'm a little nervous about my first real television gig. With her behind-the-scenes knowledge, she'll be a huge help."

"Don't worry about a thing, Ritzy! Papa Chas has it all worked out," he said, glancing at his watch as Ritz headed for the revolving doors. Chas, whose given name was Charles Bradley and would never be known as Chuck or Charlie, always took care of things for Ritz.

"Give Tracee a huge sloppy kiss for me on the lips!"

Ritz shot Chas a look. "Now you went too far with that one."

"Can't blame a brother for trying!" he said and playfully pushed her toward the door.

"Bye! I'll call you later."

"Be safe, sweetie."


THIRTY-SIXTH STREET AND MADISON AVENUE, MANHATTAN

Ritz Harper checked her frosty Franck Muller watch. It was eight minutes past seven. She had some time to kill before picking up her best friend, Tracee, at the airport. It was a crisp thirty degrees. Ritz loved the winter because it gave her a chance to luxuriate in the many kinds of furs--from chinchilla to mink, fox to ermine.

She decided to take the scenic route to her car and stop by the cleaners before heading to Newark Airport. By then, rush-hour traffic through Midtown and along the New Jersey Turnpike would be clear.

New York City, usually known for its bustle--the city that never sleeps--had a few pockets that were completely dead. After Ritz left her studio on Thirty-fourth and Park, street traffic amounted to just a few passersby. There wasn't the usual horn-blowing, anxious-to-get-nowhere car traffic that was found on the far West or East Side of town.

The Morgan Library stood out on the north side of Thirty-sixth. Its awesome white stone structure--barren, abandoned for nearly four years--was a couple of years from re-opening. There were metal and wood scaffolds and orange construction barricades surrounding it. The construction crew cleared out a little after five-thirty. The apartment buildings across the street seemed like mini abandoned museums themselves. Many of the residents were either in for the night or out partying. The street was quiet. The only illumination came from a dull streetlight near Park Avenue on Thirty-sixth.

Ritz loved this neighborhood. Ever since she began working in the city five years ago, she imagined living on the Upper East Side and on nice days walking down Park Avenue before her shift, catching lunch at the Four Seasons, even shopping at the expensive stores and of course, being hounded by adoring fans wanting her autograph. It was a fantasy that Ritz had had since she was a little girl. It was a fantasy that she was now living out. But the reality didn't quite live up to the fantasy. Ritz didn't realize how much she loved her privacy and how shocked she would be to have people come up to her while she was eating or strolling the streets and ask for an autograph. Some were much more rude than she could have imagined, but for the most part, Ritz enjoyed the fame. She loved connecting with her people--who in some ways had become her family.

By the time Ritz left the glass and steel building that housed her studio and headed northwest toward the cleaners, about a dozen people stopped to speak, wave, or get an autograph.

"Heyyyyy, Ritz!" a very loud young woman squealed from across Park Avenue, jarring Ritz out of her thoughts. Ritz was growing to understand that her relationship with her audience was so intimate that people felt totally comfortable with her--as if they really knew her.

A portly woman in her mid-forties yelled out, "Ritz, you go! I listen everyday!" Ritz smiled and waved. On her walk up Thirty-fifth toward Madison, a woman in her early twenties, who was walking with two friends, asked for an autograph. "Sorry, sweetie, no time," Ritz said. "I have to run. But I love ya!" Ritz picked up her pace as she passed the Community Church of New York.

For every block and wave and hello, a beige Nissan followed Ritz.

A couple more fans greeted her and someone in a black Jeep Cherokee beeped his horn and yelled out, "Will you marry me?!" as he made a right onto Madison, past Ritz, who gave a bright smile.

"I imagined this," she said to herself remembering the fantasies of adoring fans, autograph hounds, and paparazzi. "But I never imagined this." For four years Ritz had languished in abject obscurity on WHOT doing nights. She was good, that's why she kept her position. But she wasn't quite good enough to break out. One night Ritz did something different, and it changed her life. This was the night her fate shifted--her career literally exploded. She and her camp referred to it as "the Bomb Drop." The Bomb Drop also disintegrated the career of the nation's most respected and famous newswoman and changed the face not just of Ritz's career but of radio itself. The gloves came off and everyone became fair game. Stations like WHOT, which previously were committed to playing the hottest music in the country, started looking for "personalities" instead of "announcers." They wanted jocks like Ritz who could be bigger than the music. Ritz was an...

„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Verlag
Crown
Erscheinungsdatum
2006
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
076792486X
ISBN 13 
9780767924863
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
225
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
preigu
mail@preigu.de

Lengericher Landstr. 19
Osnabrück
49078
Deutschland