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The guests picked at the appetizers that sat on a buffet table at the corner of the room. I counted the place settings again and thought to myself: Bettina, Callie, Me, Bruno, Maria, Kurt…and one more.
I would likely not be able to relax until the last person arrived, so that I could be sure it wasn’t Cedric.
A half hour passed, as I sat with Callie while she ate a plate of appetizers that I gathered for her to deter her from attacking the chips.
Bettina began setting some food that had come out of the kitchen on the table: a roast surrounded by potatoes and carrots, French style green beans, salad, a rice casserole and a chicken fettuccini alfredo dish.
Then, I jumped as the doorbell rang.
My heart started pounding furiously again.
“Allison, would you mind answering the door for me? I think that’s my son,” Bettina shouted from the kitchen.
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh God.
Without having time to think or prepare, I got up from the chair, took a deep breath and slowly walked to the door and opened it.
CHAPTER 12
CEDRIC
Peggy-Rose Kim was an aspiring news reporter, a few years out of Columbia University’s journalism school. Her father was the general manager at one of the stations I consulted for in Chicago. Peggy-Rose lived in Boston now and as a favor, I agreed to a coaching session after hours at the agency, where I would meet her, look at her resume reel and critique it.
When she walked into the office, I was immediately drawn to her exotic look. Her mother was Korean and her father was Caucasian. But she used her mother’s maiden name—Kim—on her resume.
Her vanilla perfume was really strong.
“Hi Cedric. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You have quite the reputation,” she said flirtatiously holding out her tiny hand.
“Peggy, the pleasure is mine,” I said as I shook her hand, not exactly sure which reputation she was referring to.
She batted her eyelashes. “I brought my demo disc; it’s mostly stuff I did in school and footage I was able to put together while interning at one of the Boston news stations. I have no real experience on-air. That’s why I am hoping for your advice, so I can land my first real job.”
I nodded, staring her up and down. “Ok, Peggy…let’s get to it.”
I closed the door, then slid the disc into the machine and we both stared at the screen.
The video started with a shot of Peggy in front of a building talking in an uncomfortably high pitched voice: ‘This is Peggy-Rose Kim reporting live from the scene of a fire on Broad Street.’ It then cut to a clip of her reading the news from what looked like an amateur college TV station news desk: ‘Police are investigating a homicide in Boston’s Roxbury neighborhood...’
If I could have chucked the video into the garbage then and there, I would have. In the second clip, Peggy was actually smiling on camera when talking about the murder.
She sucked ass.
I stopped the DVD abruptly and turned to her.
“Peggy, I am friends with your father which is why I am here now looking at your reel. If I were a news director, that is as far as you would have gotten. Do you realize you were smiling in that footage while you were talking about a murder?”
Peggy looked at me dumbfounded. She said nothing, looked down, and then looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “I am sorry. I should have never come here. I know I am not ready to be showing a big agent my tape. I needed your advice, but obviously I am way out of my league,” she sobbed.
Aw, shit. I grabbed a tissue from my desk and handed it to her.
“Whoa, Whoa, Whoa…come on. It wasn’t that bad. I was just trying to make a point, that there is a lot of competition out there and you do have a great look; you just need to work on your voice and presentation. You get ten seconds to wow a news director before he shuts off your demo. But you have potential.” I put my hand on her shoulder as I lied through my teeth because I felt like shit for making her cry.
“You think I am pretty?” she asked.
