“This isn’t the correct house.”
She frowns. “Oh?”
“And Lucy over here”—Lucy is now desperately trying to catch Reena’s eye—“she keeps trying to tell me itismy house. But she’s lying to me.”
Reena is maintaining eye contact with me now, ignoring Lucy’s waving arms. “Ah,” she says. “I see.” She pulls out the chair next to mine, and sits down. “Natalie,” she says, looking closely at my face. “Do you still want to do this interview?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I just want to make sure you’re feeling … comfortable. On top of your game.” She leans forward and says quietly, “And I want to make sure you weren’t coerced, or anything like that.”
“Not at all. My lawyers tell me this is the best way for America to see the true Natalie Heller Mills,” I recite faithfully. “It’s how I’m going to”—I lift my hands to make air quotes—“engender sympathy.And I told my lawyers if that was the case, then there was only one person up for the job of speaking to me: Reena.” I lean forward confidentially. “That’s you.”
“All right,” Reena says. She’s smiling now. “And forgive me, Natalie: But you do know this interview will be seen by quite a lot of people?”
“Oh yeah,” a nearby camera girl says. “It’s pretty much guaranteed to go viral.”
“Virality,” I inform the girl mildly, “is a curse. But yes.” I look at Reena. “I’m aware of how this will work. I’m not an idiot, you know.”
“Of course you’re not. I just—”
“God, Reena. You always weresoannoying.” I survey her bemused expression. “I was always prettier than you, but I’ll admit: you look fine for your age.”
“That’s very nice of you.”
This is a huge win for her career, this interview with me. I’m surprised she hasn’t thanked me yet.
“Tell me,” I say, while someone dabs her nose with an oil blotting sheet, “did you ever have a family?”
“Oh,” she says, keeping still. “I’m not sure we have time to get into all that.”
“We should get rolling,” a producer adds. “Or we’re going to lose the light.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve spent far too much of my life chasing the light.” Then I say to Reena, who has just received a stack of note cards, “Did you, though? Get married? Have kids?”
She hesitates, then says, “I have a family now, yes—but it probably looks different than what someone like you would imagine.”
“What does that mean?” I press.
She taps the stack of note cards on her thigh. “How about this: I’ll answer your questions after the interview. Okay? I’ll tell you all about it.”
Soon we’re surrounded by lights. Reena is sitting opposite me. She lets out a long, shaky breath while the producer counts down. “We’re live in five, four—”
“Don’t be nervous,” I say quietly. “You’re going to do great.”
Reena looks at me like she can’t tell if I’m mocking her or encouraging her.We’re a team,I try to signal with my eyes.We need each other.
The red light flicks on.
Reena looks into the bright white light. “My name is Reena Magliotti. I’m the nightly news anchor forWUBZChicago, and I am Natalie Heller Mills’s former college roommate.” Crisp smile. “A few months ago, I received a call fromABCNews with a highly unusual request: They were hoping to interview Natalie, who is currently serving out a thirty-year sentence for four counts of aggravated child abuse, among other lesser charges. I was told that Natalie was interested in having a conversation only if the conversation, in question, was with me. To say I was surprised by this request would be an understatement. Tonight, I want to get to the bottom ofwhy,exactly, Natalie would choose me of all people to interview her.”
I’m ready for this question. I’ve been waiting my whole life to answer this question.Hello, Angry Woman.
“But we’ll get to that later in the interview. First, I want to talk about the book news that has lit America on fire this last week.”
I frown.
“Natalie, do you know what book I’m talking about?”
