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“How do I do that?”
“You are comfortable in front of the camera. Give them a nice bullshit story that makes you look good and makes that director look bad. You know how the game is played.”
“Should I leave out the part about you choking the director with your right hand.”
“I don’t care. My lawyer is going to pay that guy a few million bucks to go away. Remember, your job is to deflect attention away from me. So deflect, Sarah. Now, I have to get back to work!” Mr. Peak barks as he hangs up on me.
In a panic, I call up my publicist and ask her what I should do?
“I can get you on CNN. They happen to be in the Time Warner Center.”
“Yeah, that’s the same building where Mr. Peak’s office is located.”
“Then you should be familiar with it. Don’t worry. I have a great relationship with everyone there.
I’m going to meet you in a car and we’ll go over specifics.”
“How should I dress?”
“Well, don’t dress like you’re going out to a club. Be conservative.”
“Gotcha.”
I hang up the phone and run into the massive walk-in closet. I find a nice white blouse and a rather conservative long blue dress. I get dressed and look in the mirror. Boy, I look more like a secretary then a socialite. Perhaps that is a good thing.
As I look into the mirror, I begin to contemplate the massive responsibility on my shoulders. Mr. Peak needs me. I need to be strong. I have to stop acting immature and begin to take some initiative. My boss is relying on me to handle the situation. Therefore, I will handle the situation.
I lie down on the bed and close my eyes. I fall into a meditative state. The minutes go by as I gather up the resolve to confront the media and take control of a potentially explosive situation. As I sit back up, Mr. Peak’s butler appears at the bedroom door.
The butler announces that the publicist is waiting for me. Oh my goodness, I am not even done with my hair and make-up. Oh screw it, I’m not going to some fashion shoot. This is supposed to be a serious news interview.
I take the elevator downstairs and find my publicists, Emily, on the phone. She is a tall, striking redhead in her late 40s. She is lean and angular. This looks like a tough cookie. I am glad I have her on my side.
Without even acknowledging me, Emily puts her arm around me and leads me out the door. As soon as we get out of the townhouse, the paparazzi ambush us.
“What did you do to J.T. Marcos?” yells one photographer.
“Are you going to send flowers to his hospital?” another paparazzi as**shole shouts.
“Where are you going?” yet another gossip hound screams out.
I ignore all of them. One idiot is unfortunate enough to get between me and the Mercedes. I yank the camera lens, causing the rude paparazzi jerk to fall on his face. The other photographers take shots of me and their fallen comrade.
“Fucking animals,” Emily says as she looks at the paparazzi point their cameras at the back of the luxury sedan. We speed off to the CNN studios. “First thing you need to do is be charming and comfortable. You look younger than your age and J.T. Marcos has a bad reputation. So all you have to do is say that you felt your safety was in danger. CNN is going to be really soft with you since they are getting the exclusive interview.”
“What if they ask me about Mr. Peak?”
“Just say that you will not speak for him.”
The Mercedes arrives at the Time Warner Center. I feel so weird coming into the same building where Mr. Peak is working without seeing my boss. The car stops in front of the building and I get out. Emily leads me to the elevators and continues to coach me.
“Whatever you do. Do not walk off on the interview. If you do that, you will look like you are hiding something. And that will be the only footage that will be played on all of the blogs and news shows. Just give the interviewer some juicy clips that will be picked up by other media and everything will be fine.”
“Juicy clips?”
“Yeah. Remember when you told the media that your relationship with Mr. Peak was ‘none of their business?’ That was a star making quote. Try to come up with something along those lines.”
Oh Boy, the pressure is on. Sometimes being famous is not as easy as it seems.
We arrive at CNN’s New York studios. The lights, the sets and various production workers buzzing around makes me nervous. I am well aware of the fact that if I say something stupid, the entire world will see me crumble before their eyes.
I take a seat in a “green room” where the guest can relax before going on the air. I pull out my phone and begin to check my messages. Not 30 seconds go by before I am grabbed by an as**sistant producer. “We’re ready to go on the air, Sarah.”
