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I’m not sure how to feel about that. I almost prefer being blissfully ignorant of that fact. Now that I know, I have to act. And that means talking to Sloane.
The question is, will she talk to me?
thirty
You’re Not Special
Sloane
“Don’t forget today is the day of your interview with Rough Cutt Magazine,” Fiona says as I walk into the office the next day. “And also, your mother called yet again.”
I ignore the second part, “Did I know about this?” I ask, internally cringing at the thought of answering questions of a known tabloid magazine. “And who set it up?”
“You had me set it up over a month ago.”
She’s right, of course. But that was before Cooper Davies and his whirlwind blew through here.
“Why did I set up an interview a month ago? It makes zero sense.”
Fiona shrugs. “I don’t know why you do half the things you do. But, I have learned not to question you because I get my head chewed off.”
“I’m not like that,” I say, rolling my eyes. Then I remember why I scheduled it. “And I scheduled the interview for now because it’s close to the end of session concert. A lot of our funds come from that. We’ve only got two weeks left before that, so, see? There is a method to my madness.”
“If you say so, boss.”
I ignore the jab and head into my office to prepare for the day. The interview isn’t until this afternoon, so I have time to mentally plan for whatever will be thrown at me. I’m pretty sure whatever it is isn’t going to be pleasant.
Interviews are the worst.
* * *
I make it through the day successfully avoiding Cooper, who I see hovering just outside the periphery, determined to talk to me, but I’m still not ready. Even with all of the thinking I did during my sleepless night last night, I haven’t settled on a decision when it comes to signing an NDA with him. The hurt that came with that question is still too much right now. And the fact my mother called again today, knowing I would refuse to talk to her like I have for the last four years, just pushes me that much more to shut myself down.
The reporter shows up early, and we set up in the lobby of the building, which showcases various instruments and photos of some of the mentors we’ve had over the years. It’s out in the open, but it makes a nice backdrop for our discussion.
“So you’ve been the director here for four years now, is that correct? “ She asks, starting with a softball, which I can appreciate. I know we’re still dancing around each other.
“That’s correct. I’ve been here since the inception of the Foundation. Barry Sparks and I started the program.”
“And Barry is still on the Board of Directors, right?”
“That’s right.” My stomach tightens, wondering why she’s focusing on Barry. He’s never the subject of interviews. This is supposed to be about the upcoming concert.
“Didn’t you and Barry used to date?”
And there it is. Straight into personal questions. It didn’t take long for this interview to take a U-turn.
“No, actually. Barry and I never dated.” I paint a smile on my face that is one hundred percent disingenuous. “Though I’m curious what that has to do with the article you’re writing.”
“Oh, I was just getting background.” Her return smile is equally fake.
So we understand each other. This is going to be a dance. Alright. This bitch is about to find out how well I can tango.
“Well, I’m sure Barry’s husband of fifteen years would be interested to know if we dated as well.” My grin widens.
Print that, bitch.
Her grin falters for a second, but I see it. This girl must be new. A simple internet search would have found that information. It was a setup question.
