Page 9 of Between the Lines

That realization settled over her with surprising weight.

Cece had spent more years than she could count getting people to talk. Guiding conversations. Asking careful questions and knowing when to stay quiet while someone found their way to an even better answer.

This shouldn’t have felt foreign. And yet, this felt very different.

Maybe because it was so much more personal this time. She wasn’t doing it for a corporation; she was doing it for herself.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. Any second, Blaise would be knocking.

Cece was thrilled Blaise had said yes to this first episode. She was going to be a great first guest, and not just because she was a name people knew.

Cece trusted Blaise’s judgment and loved her intelligence, but she also knew Blaise was ready to share her story. Cece hoped this podcast would help Blaise do that, and maybe even give her publishing ambitions a boost.

She picked up her notebook from the desk and flipped it open. The first page was filled with notes written in her tidy, looping handwriting.

At the top was written Episode One: Blaise Monroe.

Underneath were a few bullet points. Early career. Jay. The scam. What it meant to start over. The decision to tell her story.

Cece traced one line with her finger, then closed the notebook.

This was going to be a fun conversation.

The doorbell rang. Peanut’s head came up.

Cece left the studio and went straight to the front door. She opened it to find Blaise standing there, tote bag over her shoulder, sunglasses perched on her head, makeup and outfit perfect.

“Morning,” Blaise said. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Thanks for being so prompt,” Cece said. “Come on in. You want some coffee?”

“That would be great.”

Cece got them each a cup, then they walked to the studio, and Blaise slowed when Cece pushed the door wider.

Blaise paused in the doorway, taking in the studio with a look that was part appreciation, part nerves.

“Was Peanut my replacement if I didn’t show?” she asked, gesturing to the cat still in the chair.

Cece laughed. “I figured I’d better have a backup.” She set her coffee down by her laptop and scooped Peanut up. “I’ll go put her in her tower.” She carried Peanut out, giving her a little kiss on the head. “Try to behave for a bit, will you?”

Cece came back to find Blaise setting her tote down near the chair Peanut had just vacated. Her mug was on the table. She glanced at the microphones, then at Cece. “Okay. So this is the part where I pretend I’m not thinking about how every word I’m going to say will be made public.”

Cece smiled. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know it’s a little scary, but anything you don’t want released won’t be. That’s the beauty of editing.”

“That’s really good to know,” Blaise said, her tone full of relief.

They settled in beside each other, the routine of it familiar even if the stakes felt new. Cece adjusted one knob on the mixer, then reached for her notebook.

“I’m not going to read from this,” she said, tapping the cover. “You’ve seen the questions. This is just to keep me from wandering.”

Blaise nodded. “I reread them again last night.”

“And?” Cece asked.

“And I made peace with the fact that there are a couple I’m probably going to answer differently than I thought I would when you sent them.”

Cece nodded. “No problem. Whatever you want to say is fine with me.”