Eighteen
There was a feeling in her gut that something was off. Everyone was too happy to see her. There was always curiosity. Always questions. People excited to be getting an interview that was almost certainly going to help their ratings stay astronomically high.
The whole field of media, Rose was learning, was like trying to juggle an armload of chainsaws. You tried to keep them all as high in the air as possible, because having more than one in your hands at a time was impossible.
They kept their ratings higher than they could ever sustain on normal material. If they let their ratings flag, even for a second, if they didn’t have some kind of “edge” then they went out of business. Eventually, the ones that ran themselves so ragged that there seemed to be nothing left would be the only company that was left standing.
Then they could back off again, and it wouldn’t matter. Where else would someone get their entertainment?
As a result, they all ran themselves ragged. The woman in front of her, Rose knew, had been up at four in the morning, and was smiling because it was a skill. Not because it was something that she was doing naturally.
But everyone’s energy was high. Too high. Certainly too high for a crew of people who had been on set for almost six hours and kept themselves moving with coffee, and very likely amphetamines. Maybe these were the hungry newcomers. Maybe.
But the hungry newcomers never have just enthusiasm. They’ve got something else. And oldies, the people who stuck around, they’re more dangerous still. They’re rarely the old lion dying slow. They’re at the top for a reason. Because everyone needs to have an edge.
And it looks to Rose like they’ve got one, and it’s pointing right at her.
She swallowed hard. “So what? Sit here?”
“That’s fine,” the woman says. The smile on her face is starting to get eerie. It never falters, except for a moment when she purses them together to make sure that the lipstick is evenly applied. Like a robot or something.
The closest thing to an unkempt person on the set is the intern running around coordinating everything; he walks up seeming to look simultaneously at the two of them and his clipboard, and he seems like he’s already turned around by the time that he finishes saying “one minute.”
The woman across from Rose nods her head absently to the intern; he can’t have seen it. He wasn’t around long enough to see. But the message is clearly sent and received.
Sixty seconds pass slow. Each second is just another chance for Rose to think hard about what’s going to be coming at her. What are they going to think? What are they going to try to pin on her? She lets out a breath.
Another man walks up. The hair on his head seems to have moved down to his arms, leaving a shining cue-ball head and arms like a long-sleeved shirt.
He holds up five fingers. Down to four. Three. Two. A light flicks on that says they’re filming. Rose adjusts herself in her seat as the woman across from her starts up.
“We’re here with Michigan businesswoman Rose Kilpatrick. So you’ve been getting a lot of attention, Rose, wouldn’t you say?”
“More than I deserve, Megan,” she answers. It’s hard to know whether or not that’s a good response; the woman’s smile widens for an instant, but Rose suspects that she’d do it if Rose had insisted that it was all due to a complex series of spells she cast on herself in the basement using her own blood.
“So I guess, let’s start with your husband. You met a year ago? And you… you know. Two children!”
“Nothing about my girls was an accident, per se. I hate that word. But… they were an unexpected miracle. Let’s say that. And yeah, it was a surprise to everyone involved, trust me!”
“So you got in touch with him after that, and organized a wedding? Is that…?”
“That’s about the long and short of it. We spent a lot of time talking about how we were going to make the transition, particularly since he was, at the time, eyeing a purchase of our little business.”
“Michigan Chemical, you mean? What about those rumors? Any basis?”
“I’d hardly call them rumors, Megan. Someone went through the trouble to create falsified documents with a Michigan Chemical letterhead, and then sent it to a dozen different news outlets until someone took the bait.”
“That must have been very upsetting.”
“Our legal team is looking into options as we speak.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“It’s only right,” Rose said.
“Too true,” Megan said. She paused for a beat. “Now, we’ve got something else we wanted to ask you about.”
“What’s that?”
“Your husband again. I know, you must be getting tired of these questions. We’ll try to keep it short.”
“It’s no problem at all,” Rose said. She’d answered a thousand questions about Bryce. Maybe they weren’t all true. But she answered as best she could, based on what he told her. Rose chose to believe him. What was the alternative?
“What would you say if I told you that you and your husband weren’t married?”
Rose laughed. “I’d say that is absurd.”
“If you were married before…”
“I hope I’d know about that, Megan,” she said. Rose’s teeth grit together. She could see the pieces falling into place.
“And what about your husband?”
“Is that what you’re suggesting? That my husband is already married?”
Megan’s smile widened. She looked like a snarling wolf. And then the wolf attacked, and there was nothing Rose could do but watch it happen.