A Charitable Scandal

The Morning Interview

I kept trying to remind myself of that silver lining as I headed for the studio. Once I finally arrived, I found the audience for the show already being funneled in through the giant double door entrance. I gave my name to a security guard and eventually I was hustled away from the crowd and through the same back entrance I took for my pre-interview. As I made my way through the studio, I heard whispers of some of the other guests appearing on the show, but I blocked it all out. Instead I ran through my responses and made mental notes of all the possible problems that may arise in Mariska's sometimes merciless interviews.

Once I settled myself into a padded salon chair, I took a couple deep breaths. There was something oddly comforting in the movements of my hair and makeup artists. The gentle brushing of my hair and the tender application of concealer on my cheeks helped soothe my frantic mind. Though the producer running around behind us, wrangling the faceless blurs reflected in my mirror, did little to calm me. And before long, that same producer came to claim me as well, telling me that I had five minutes before my small screen debut.

I thanked the hair and makeup crew then headed over to the stage, stopping just short of the set. From beyond a thick curtain I spotted a hundred-some people watching, laughing, and listening to Mariska's interview with a child prodigy that was set to beat the world record for most pi digits memorized.

"Well, what do you think folks?" posed Mariska to her adoring audience. "Don't you think little Brandon makes memorization look as easy as pie?"

I wondered if they had canned laughter for live performances like that, but the audience responded with a hearty guffaw at Mariska's — or, more likely, her writer's — atrocious pun. Still, the fluffy sweetness of the little segment about Brandon, and his brilliant brain, helped me to take a step back. For a moment I began to think that my nerves were for nothing. A smile found my face and my anxieties melted away. It was a nice comfortable feeling for that brief space of time from when the laughter started to when Brandon walked off the stage. Then Mariska's demeanor changed.

"Next we have Alexis Jeffries from Quinto Technologies here to talk about their upcoming event for a mysterious charity called 'Coding a Future.'"

A cold weight sank to the bottom of my stomach as the producer shoved me onto the stage and the audience applauded my arrival. It took a few steps, but I eventually found my feet and my composure. I managed to find my seat and even offered her a polite smile as she welcomed me. Then she ushered in a commercial break and the cameras looked away. I was left alone before a huntress.

"You ready kid?" she asked with a smirk.

"Certainly, it's always easy to talk about positive matters like our outreach programs and the gala." In my line of work, it's crucial to learn how to fake calm. The public can smell fear.

"You know," said Mariska with a light laugh, "I really want to believe you. You certainly seem to believe you." I replied with a thin smile, but other than that, I didn't know how else to respond. Fortunately, she didn't need me to and she eventually continued. "Look, I'm not going to back down on the charity that Quinto seems dedicated to ignoring. So I hope you're prepared. I don't hand out mercy." She ended with a smile that was far from friendly and then turned right for the cameras before I could manage to brighten my dazed, vacant expression.

She welcomed the viewers at home back to the show and that was enough to kick me into attention. Survival instinct sparked beneath my skin and a smile, as real as the one on Mariska's own lips, found its way to my face.

The interview started off innocently enough. She warmed me up with some questions about who I was, about what the company did, and the logistics for the event. Every now and then I glanced to the big digital clock standing over Mariska's teleprompter. It ticked down the time for our segment and when the next commercial would need to be introduced. The seconds slipped away with refreshing rapidity and my heart lightened at the thought that Mariska may not manage to squeeze in anything about the charity after all. Perhaps my answers had been longer than the veteran host had planned. Perhaps I somehow won her over with my charm and poise. Perhaps she had just been pulling my leg to keep me on my toes.