The Interview

It was just after 9 o’clock in the city that never sleeps. The traffic settled from the early morning rush, and the sea of blurry faces on the crosswalks reduced to vague flickers of familiarity. The lines outside the coffee shops dwindled, and the diners were filled with the usual natives of Manhattan- the music teachers, the housekeepers, and the retirees. The restaurants droned with a melting pot of Polish, Italian, Spanish, and Hebrew dialects. How they managed to break away from the hustle and bustle of city life, no one can say for certain. Most never bothered to ask. Those who did left none-the-wiser. But every morning started the same. They read their newspapers and nursed their coffee as if they had all the time in the world.

Time. “A commodity,” warned Darcy’s publicist in the Green Room, “that we so often desire yet habitually waste.” Her voice clipped over the phone. Some would say time was a passive construct with little meaning in our lives. For others, like the executives in the Rockefeller News Studio, time was law. Unforgiving. Unyielding. And it ruled with an iron fist.

The Studio 13 newsroom buzzed with excitement. Interns, writers, and producers scuttled behind the camera and across the stage carrying stacks of papers, cue cards, and coffee orders. The studio audience sat restlessly in their seats. Starry-eyed and bashful smiles, they chittered about the upcoming movie adaptation of Darcy’s most recent series, The Halls of Alchemy.

“Ninety seconds people!” the producer barked. Darcy adjusted the mic on his chest. Nine minutes and thirty seconds. That’s all he needed. Nine minutes and thirty seconds of charismatic charm while he makes pleasantries with the Hostess. Then he’ll make his way to the airport and from there, he’ll be a free man.

“Thirty seconds.” A hush spread over the audience as the Hostess took her seat. She glanced at Darcy from under her dark lashes.

“You ready?” She asked with a wry smile.

“Only if you promise you’ll go easy on me.” He replied.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” He almost chuckled like it was an inside joke.

“We’re rolling in ten…” The studio lights flooded the stage. Darcy closed his eyes and took a breath. You’ve made it this far.

“Hey,” she whispered. “We got this.” She gave him a reassuring wink and turned to the camera. She straightened her blazer and casually tossed her hair over her shoulders.

“Welcome back, I’m Abigail Williams and joining me today is five-time New York Time’s Best-Selling Author, Darcy Quin, who brings some exciting news about his world-famous series The Halls of Alchemy. Darcy, thank you for joining us today.”

“Thanks for having me.”

“For the last two weeks you’ve traveled all over the world talking about this series.” She started counting on her fingers “Berlin, Prague, Tokyo, Seoul, and that’s not even including the United States.“

“Don’t forget Budapest.” He chimed in, sipping the complimentary glass of water.

“And Budapest.” She paused, a light blush rising to her cheek. A tight smile formed on her lips. “Tell me, Darcy, not that we don’t already know, but we’d love to hear it from you. What is the big, exciting news about your Alchemy series?” A young TV Hostess with more charm than interview skills, she practically fed him his lines.

Darcy gave a small grin. “Hollywood called my publicist, my publicist called me, I called my lawyers, and uh…now we’re making a movie.”

The audience erupted with applause. The Hostess beamed at the audience. “How cool is that, right? So tell me, how does it feel? You get a call from Hollywood studios asking if they can turn your book into a movie.” He nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “Did you expect anything like this to happen- no, scratch that. Did you plan this? Was this your plan from the very beginning?”

“No, no. You can ask my assistant. I’m not nearly organized enough to plan that far ahead.” A few laughs bubble through the studio. “It feels uh…exciting. I’m excited!”

“You don’t sound too sure about that.” She lowered her voice. “I know your background.”

“Is that what it says on your cards?” He deflected.

“I like to do my research," she murmured coyly. "And I've been a fan since I was an undergrad."

“Well, I hope the books were a pleasant distraction, Abigail-“ Careful, Darcy. Circle back.

“Please, call me Gail.” Her name left a sour taste in his mouth. Gail? It's certainly not a name for a child born in the twenty-first century. Not willingly at least.

Perhaps it was a strategic play? A charismatic blonde fresh out of school with the world at her feet, she'd do just fine as Abby. But Gail had a sternness to it. More commanding. Mature. That and her almost paradoxically sophisticated and flirtatious charm separated her from the underpaid, ketchup-and-ramen interns.

He cleared his throat, before reciting the speech his assistant so kindly wrote for him. "Back to your previous question," he began. “The recognition feels amazing. I'm so, so tremendously grateful for my team. For all the work they’ve done, all the years they’ve put up with me to get us to this point.” He folded both his hands around the drinking glass. “It’s almost like a dream; it’s just so incredible.” Gail nodded along.

“So tell me, how much say will you have when it comes to the movie? Are you going to be there on set?”

“Well we haven’t finished-“ he paused, tracing the rim of the glass with his fingers. “We’re still working on the details, but I would absolutely love to be there behind the scenes.” He could practically hear his publicist in his ear. Good- safe answer.

“You don’t want a cameo?” She teased. The question was innocent enough, but something stirred in the pit of his stomach. A casual conversation is usually welcome on podcasts or radio, not on TV. She’s baiting you; tread carefully.

“I’ve seen a few book-to-movie adaptations. I can think of a couple that left the writers with a raging desire to scrub their work from existence.”

“Oh? Which ones?” the audience members whispered to each other in their seats. Careful, Darcy.

“I’d rather not say.” he chuckled dryly. He sipped from the glass once more; it was nearly empty.

“Friends of yours?” Gail probed with a sly grin.

“No comment.” He earned some laughs from the audience, and hoped for a moment that the Hostess would change the subject.

The woman reached for his hand across the coffee table. “You can tell me when the camera’s aren’t rolling.” She gave a friendly wink, again, and sat back in her seat. The hair on the back of his neck began to stand. Something was not right. What did she win by playing coy? The first time it was for reassurance. Now, he wasn’t so sure. “If it’s alright with you, I’m going to go off script.” There it is. He glanced at the question cards in her hand and raised his brow.

“I don’t know how your writers will feel about that.” Her hazel eyes locked with his. The tension filtered throughout the newsroom and reverberated through the team. She treaded carefully.

“I think we can afford to go off script.” The lilt in her voice was innocent, almost flirty. “This is your last interview for the tour. You could probably answer all our carefully picked questions before I even read them to you.” The audience gave a slight chuckle. “What I mean is, if you’ll indulge me, as a fan, I ’d like to ask you one of my questions.”

Her strategic words formed a circle around him. She was right. It’s his last on-air interview, and the first one people would remember. He could decline, of course. No one - at least not those important - would blame him. But he could see the headlines on Twitter. ‘Author snubs TV Host in interview.’ ‘America’s favorite author burned in the hot seat’ or whatever mud the trolls could sling his way.

The clock on the coffee table read 9:23. Just a few more minutes. How much damage could she do with a bit of improv in a few minutes? The tension in the studio lingered. No longer idling behind the scenes, it began to filter through the audience. The longer he waited, the more it grew. He cleared his throat and sat back in his seat. “Why not?”

Gail beamed, “I knew you’d play along! I wanted to talk about this mysterious fourth book everyone else is whispering about.” He could see his publicist now: palm on her face, shaking her head.

Ah yes, the dreaded fourth book.

“I may have spoken too soon, Gail.” He admitted sheepishly. His honesty gained a chuckle from behind the cameras. He took another sip and combed his fingers through his hair. He inhaled slowly through his nose. It’s an interview, not a trial. Exhaled through his mouth. They’re impersonal, despite what she thinks. You’re not expected to tell the truth.

Gail’s eyes shimmered, like a cat with a mouse caught under its paw. She knew she had only a few minutes left of airtime. She was going to take full advantage of that. “Your third book ended on such a cliffhanger-“

“No spoilers!” Someone cried from the audience. The author let out a hearty laugh, grateful for the brief interruption. Gail raised her hands defensively.

“You have my word, there will be no spoilers.” She flashed a pageantry grin. “The third book of your Alchemy series ended…how it ended.” She winked at the camera and shifted in her seat. “And it’s been over three years since it was first released. You have millions of loyal fans out in the world. Some, obviously,” She gestured to the audience, “are here with us. And they’ve kept the love for this series alive with their most wonderful imagination.” Sweat began to pool at the back of Darcy’s collar and a pit swelled in his stomach.

“I don’t know if you’re familiar with Reddit – have you heard of Reddit?” Darcy nodded. “Have you seen what they’ve written?” He shook his head, expressionless.

Where the hell are you going with this Gail?

“There are hundreds- and I mean hundreds- of pages about this series. Filled with people’s artwork, theories, and probably one of the most infamous internet debates since Ross and Rachel’s ‘break’ from F.R.I.E.N.D.S.” Darcy pretended to look surprised.

“Really?” he asked, but he already knew this. He had seen the forums. He even went so far as to make an alt-account to participate in some of the debates to help with his writer’s block. It was like his own testing server.

Gail grinned. “They’ve kept us entertained for the past few years while we’ve so patiently waited for the next book to drop. So tell me, Mr. Darcy, when are we getting a fourth book?”

Silence penetrated the room, and all eyes fixated on him. Even the camera operators poke their heads from behind their equipment, waiting for an answer. The pit had all but swallowed his stomach and climbed up his throat. He glanced at the producer and saw them signal the one-minute warning.

“I’m giving you a movie, Gail.” He said coolly, hoping she would take the hint.

The hostess, unsatisfied, leaned closer. Her eyes glowed like embers under the spotlights. Her lips tightly drawn into a broad smile he wondered if her face would split in two. He was so sure she could see the sweat running down his neck. That she could hear his heart pounding as loudly as he could. “Are we getting a fourth book?” She asked mockingly.

She had cornered him. He gave her 5 minutes of freedom. She had him all but bound and gagged as she made a meal out of him.

“Of course-” He started.

“It’s been 3 years,” Her eyes flickered off camera and saw the cue card. 30 seconds. She lowered her eyes and sat back in her seat. Her face had softened. Her tone was warm, almost genuine. “But it’s been a busy 3 years it seems with the promises of a new movie franchise.” The audience erupted into applause, diffusing the tension. A minute more and he would have cracked. He knew this. She knew this. But for once it seemed like time was on his side, and he was able to slip away.

Hiding her disappointment the hostess gave her signature, gracious closing. “Darcy, thank you so much for stopping by to share the news about your Alchemy series. I know we’re all excited to see how it’ll turn out; I’m sure it’s going to be amazing. Let’s give it up for five-time New York Time’s Best-Selling Author, Darcy Quin!” He forced a smile and waved at the cheering fans behind the camera.

How much damage can she do in 5 minutes? He rued. Nikki was never going to let him live that down.