Page 53 of Breakaway
The portion of the studio we're filming in had staff reduced substantially for the interview today. The producers were more than willing to accommodate the request after Mauve informed them that I would only be speaking to one interviewer before retiring. She sweetened the pot when she told them I'd announce my retirement during the interview so they could use the snippet for clips and promotional material if they wanted. It's also not live, which takes some of the pressure off. They still prefer to film everything in one take, so it feels more genuine, but that's easy enough to deal with.
Deep breath in. I remind myself to take a long, slow breath before releasing it. I'm still wearing my full glam and somethingskimpy. It's even hot pink and has fringe dangling from where my hips and thighs meet.
I might've swished the fringe around a ridiculous amount in the dressing room while we were waiting for Chelsea to get there to do my makeup. Zill had smiled, watched me, and kept having to remind himself that he couldn't get me all mussed right before an interview. Sometimes it was with a slight huff and a clenching of his fist, and other times it was a snarled word or two to the shadows that kept dancing and swaying far from his body as though trying to entice me to move closer to him.
"How are you feeling?" Traci asks as she takes a seat in the overly plush chair beside mine. They're angled slightly so we can talk to one another while also still being filmed by the cameras.
Traci's been hosting a celebrity gossip show for about fifteen years. If I had it my way, I wouldn't be interviewed by her. Not because of her in particular, but because I detest these kinds of shows in general. I've been on a few, only when they've been under contract to ask specific questions pertaining to a release, or if they were briefed in advance and in great detail about what they could and could not bring up.
Traci and her show, Tattling with Traci, have been ones that I've been featured on plenty of times. She always clears the questions with Mauve and hasn't once tried to catch me with some weird gotcha questions or pressured me into revealing more than I'm willing to.
What she does with the remainder of her show, where she speculates wildly about celebrities all over the universe, is another thing entirely. But the interview portion is respectful. At least as long as she's allowed at least one juicy little piece she can use to get clicks and views. And, she's more than happy to not only be the only one to speak to me as Reese, but to get the first scoop on my retirement.
"Feeling good," I tell her with a smile that I hope doesn't look as weak as it feels. "A bit nervous to be doing this. It feels like my first interview ever."
"Who was that with?" she asks, settling in and crossing one leg over the other.
Her dark curls are pinned on top of her head, her dark eyes crinkled in the corner as she speaks to me. She has a talent for making you feel important to her, like she genuinely cares about what you have to say when you're sitting in her interview chair.
I don't even care if she's just trying to get me more comfortable so I don't go stiff once the cameras start rolling. I embrace the warmth she radiates and take another deep breath as I try to pull Empress back out, to use some of her strength and enjoyment of the limelight to help me get through this. It's harder to get into character without my mask.
"Oh goodness, it was a decade ago," I let out a small chuckle. "I'm pretty sure it was for some local college news station. I do remember I got asked if I would take off my mask, though."
"First time that happened?" Traci asks, one of her brows rising a bit higher than the other.
"The first of many," I reply, shaking my head as I think back to that awful interview.
I ended up walking off the set because the kid wouldn't drop the fact that I wasn't going without the mask. I was a lot less known back then, still trying to make a name for myself in the local scene, and Mauve hadn't been too happy about me walking away. She told me people would push a lot harder and that I needed to get a lot stronger if I wanted to survive playing the character I wanted Empress to be.
"I actually asked your manager if you wouldn't mind wearing one for us tonight just so I could be the first one to ask that you actually said yes to," Traci leans in as she speaks, almost like she's sharing a secret.
"A mask doesn't go with this outfit," I tell her without hesitation. "I mean, look at me, I'm like a hot pink cowgirl, if cowgirls wore bodysuits that showed off half their butt and shoes with absolutely no practicality."
"So not really a cowgirl then," Traci says as she leans back to her original position. I chuckle, her remark requiring no real answer.
"Ready when you are," a young woman with a clipboard says as she sets a water bottle beside Traci's chair and then scampers off the set.
Traci turns to me, "Need anything to drink?"
"I'm good," I tell her, looking across the studio to where Zill's speaking to Isha.
As if he's already in my head, he turns to face me. His lips pull up in a smile, his hand lifting the smallest amount for a little wave. His shadows, of course, are going a mile a minute as they dance around him. All of them obviously want more attention than they've gotten today. I'll have to make up for neglecting them later when we get back to the ship.
"You're sure we can't convince you to let him be in the interview too? That was the original plan," Traci says, pushing her luck a little too much.
"I'm sure," I tell her, keeping my voice cordial so we don't start off on the wrong foot when the cameras start recording.
The plan had been for Zill to participate in some of the interviews with me to push the whole 'I have a boyfriend' narrative. Now that I have one and it hasn't stopped someone from threatening me, it isn't necessary to put him through that.
He's not even trained to do this kind of thing. I'm sure he could get through it easily enough. He could be in Traci's head, knowing exactly the questions she's going to ask, the answers she wants, without straining himself. Still, it's not in his actual job description, and I don't need to add any more fuel to thedelusional fire my stalker has stoked when it comes to thinking we're meant to be with one another.
"Can't blame a woman for trying," she says, no animosity in her voice, just genuine acceptance of my no, even if she wished asking would've swayed me. "Ready on set."
A screen off to the side of the set turns on, counting down from ten. The few people working in the studio move about, ensuring all the cameras have us in frame. There are a couple of sound engineers, Chelsea, who did my hair and makeup, the three Sombrans, the Lokans, and Mauve. It feels as though my people outnumber Traci's, but it's what she agreed to, so I don't feel too bad about taking over the studio.
The screen counts down to one, and a beat passes before Traci opens the show. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I'm so glad you all could be with me tonight as we speak to the one and only Empress."
A playful smile tugs at my lips, my ability to respond as Empress coming back to me, even if it feels a little strange without my mask. She's just a character, but she's still me. Sure, a very extravagant and less filtered version of me, but it's not as if she's a stranger I pretend to be. She's different aspects of myself that I amplify to create someone I think will be fun to play.
