Page 90 of The First Taste
He seems so sure of himself. I slide him a look, wondering if he is somehow in on this whole conspiracy. It’s unlikely… but not impossible.
I stand up, plucking the mic wire from my collar. “No way. I’m not doing this.”
Mum rushes into the room, looking severe. “What’s the issue? Is there something I don’t know about?”
I squint at her, my face heating up. The lie comes easily to my lips. “No.”
“The studio is trying to change the terms of the interview,” I bite out. “I am not going to be questioned by someone I’m not familiar with and have that interview recorded for national broadcast. That’s insane. They must think I’m an idiot.”
Mum looks around me, eyeing the two journalists. She quirks a brow.
“Ladies. Who has the list of questions? There must be one written down somewhere.”
Anna and Wendy look at each other. There is a moment of communication between them and then Anna stands up, brandishing her notecards at my mother.
My mother grabs them, pulls on her reading glasses, and does a quick inspection. When she looks back up, she passes the cards to me.
“It looks like there isn’t a single question about your daily life here. It’s mostly about your brother. There are a few questions that call for past anecdotes, but I don’t see a real problem here.”
I lower my voice, turning my mother and whispering in her ear. “I’m not worried about Anna. It’s the other woman I don’t like. Besides, they wouldn’t have written down any questions that are incriminating.” She gives me a quelling glare. “The news studio only agreed to do this interview if you were a part as well. But we have made it perfectly clear that your past is strictly off limits. Now please, do the damned interview. We have got to get your brother out there and mark his face in the collective memory of the voters.”
She grips my wrist, staring directly into my eyes. She so rarely asks me for anything that I find her plight compelling.
But that doesn’t mean I am going to let my guard down, either.
“Fine,” I whisper. “But if they ask me about even one question about Kingsley or try to trap me in a confession about anything, I’m leaving.”
Mum smiles at me. “Agreed.”
She spins me around, patting me on the arm. Handing the cards back to Anna, she announces my decision. “Stick to the cards. Anything else is off limits.”
“We are allowed to ask a few other questions,” Anna says. “According to the contract.”
“No personal questions about either of my sons that haven’t been previously cleared through me. Okay?” Mum says.
“Sure thing,” Wendy answers, chipper as all get out. “We are ready as soon as you are, Lord Grayrose.”
Steeling myself, I trudge back to my seat, my feet feeling like they are each filled with lead weights. Wendy smirks at me as the PA comes in and refits my mic. I do my best to remain expressionless and uninteresting to her. Mum scoots out of the room but hovers in the doorway, her facial expression tense.
I take a breath and try to tell the voice that is screaming at me inside to turn in down a notch.
The cameraman says, “And… we are rolling in 3… 2… 1…”
He points at all of us. Anna beams at the camera. “I’m Anna Armand, joined by veteran reporter Wendy Allen. We are here today with the up-and-coming candidate for prime minister, Lord James Grayrose. His brother Lord Keiran Grayrose is here as well. Keiran is the CEO of NewsCorp and a great philanthropist as well. Welcome, everyone!”
James instantly turns on the charm. “Thank you, Anna. It is a pleasure to be here with you today.”
I quietly nod. Anna and Wendy have a few softball questions for us first.
“Where did you grow up?” Anna asks, leaning in.
“Well, Anna. It’s funny that you ask that because we are here in front of one of my favorite spots in my parents’ house.” James shoots me a grin. “We are next to the fireplace in our living room. Keiran and I spent many a night right here when we were younger, spread out across the floor, reading comic books. Isn’t that right?”
I pick up the ball that he’s rolled to my feet, “That’s right, James. When we were a bit older, we replaced those comic books with James Joyce novels and books about how black holes are formed. But we kept up the habit of reading in here, in our Glasgow home.”
“You two don’t sound Scottish to my ears!” Wendy says, laughing at her own joke.
“We actually both went to boarding school in England and attended Oxford for university,” I explain.
