When I got up the next morning, the nerves hit me hard, but I ignored them and got ready. I was doing a good job of pretending to be normal.
Erica was not. She flew out of her room and gestured to the coffee with a savage motion. “I need that. Now. Now. Now.”
She reached for it.
I held it away from her. “I think not. You’re ready to go boom. You need to calm down.”
I glanced to the couch. No Wanker. He wasn’t here when he was needed. As Erica let out a curse and then a pent-up scream before grabbing an energy drink from the refrigerator, I knew he would’ve known exactly how to handle her. He always knew if a joke would work and what type of joke, too, or if he needed to piss her off. Either way, he was the Erica Whisperer.
She slammed down the empty can. “We have to go. Now. We’re late. Why are we always late?”
I grabbed my bag and got in line behind her. After unlocking our door, she stepped through and held it open for me. When I didn’t immediately sprint behind her, her hand started waving me in a continuous spin. I frowned at her but held my tongue. A wise roommate knew when to enter a battle or when the opponent was too crazy to beat. Erica—judging from the fraying hair, wild lines around her eyes, and dilated pupils—could go off on a homeless person for sharing her sidewalk space.
I was very wise in that moment.
And I continued to be as Erica huffed and puffed throughout the entire bus ride. When she pulled the cord, I looked out the window but didn’t see the newspaper building. The ritziest hotel in the city, Seton, was there instead.
I grabbed Erica’s arm after we got off.
“What?”
I gestured to the hotel. “What are we doing here?”
“This is where the interview is being done.”
“Here?”
I fought to keep the panic from my voice. “Is he staying here?”
He couldn’t be. If he was, his sister was, too.
“I don’t know, but I doubt it. His family owns that other one—and don’t ask me why we’re not interviewing there either. When big celebs do interviews, even with us lowly newspapers, they pick somewhere they’re not staying. More anonymity that way.” Her lips pursed together. “Or I’d imagine. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’m not a celebrity, and I’m probably never going to be rich, so who cares?” She grabbed my hand and yanked me after her. “Let’s go.”
I couldn’t move. I was terrified that he hadn’t held up his promise, and the cameras were going to point my way instead.
However, Erica didn’t care. She dragged me behind her, through the swinging doors and past the luxurious lobby. There were couches, gold-plated statues, a fountain, and lots of stuffy people. This seemed like a hotel where Kian’s family would stay.
Erica swept past the front desk and into the elevator. We rode it to a middle floor, and as we got out, I saw a bunch of banquet rooms. Erica slowed, craning her neck to peer into the smaller conference rooms, until she grabbed my hand once again and swung an abrupt right into one of the rooms.
“Here.”
A table was set up against the wall with water, soda, juice, and coffee along with different food choices—pizza, finger sandwiches, vegetable trays, fruit platters, and lots of other dishes that I would’ve salivated over if I wasn’t ready to pee my pants. Not the literal way, the nervous way. My stomach felt like it was still riding the Crazy Erica Train.#p#分页标题#e#
“Okay.” Susan cleared her throat from the back of the room. She clapped for everyone’s attention. “All eyes on me. Right here.”
When people quieted, she signaled to someone. “Can you shut the door?”
She turned back to us. “Okay. Here’s the game plan. We’ve gone over it before, but we’re doing it again. Kian Maston is going to be arriving in the next hour. I want all the teams set up and ready to go. As soon as his team walks through those doors, you’ve got cameras on him. Your recorders are primed and rolling. Pencils are at the ready. You get my drift. We’re not here for an exposure or a hatchet job. We are going to tell Kian’s story with respect. He’s loved by a nation, and we’re going to capitalize on that love. Everyone is going to be watching us and asking why we got the story they wanted. We got it because we’re a damn good paper. We’re going to prove that to the nation. We’re going to make psychopaths cry. I’m fucking Barbara Walters today. Erica?” She snapped her fingers in my roommate’s direction.
“Yes?”
“You’re Meredith Vieira. You got it? Are you channeling her?”