by Cassia Leo
“Yes, can you hear and see me?”
“I gotcha. I’m Daniel, by the way,” he said, as his eyes turned downward to look at something on the anchor desk, possibly Diane Sawyer’s notes. He looked up again, seeming even more bewildered. “Oh, shit. I don’t have Simon’s notes.”
“Who’s Simon?” I asked, as my stomach gurgled with hunger and anxiety. I hadn’t eaten since before yesterday’s flight.
“Simon is our field producer. Shit! Where are those notes?”
“Is this going to affect the interview?”
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! This is definitely going to affect the interview. Shit, shit, shit! I am so fired.”
“Calm down, Daniel,” I said, as he scoured the surface of the anchor desk. “What kind of notes are you looking for?”
Please don’t find the notes. Please call off the interview.
“Oh! Here they are!” he shrieked, and the tiny laptop speakers crackled as he held up a thin manila envelope. “That was close.”
“Yeah… that was close,” I muttered, trying not to look too disappointed.
“Okay, so I already went over the specifics with Gideon, but I’ll go over them with you now.”
He rambled on for more than twenty minutes about Diane’s interview style and how I should try not to fidget and a billion other tidbits on how to make the interview more compelling and visually appealing. Some of this stuff I had already learned in the many camera classes I’d taken. Some of it was just ridiculous, like making me change my ivory silk blouse because it looked too similar to Diane’s.
“Are you ready?” Daniel asked, and I nodded, too annoyed with him to even respond. “Great. We start rolling in twelve minutes. Sit tight.”
I sat back in the chair then immediately sat up again as I remembered Daniel’s advice on slouching. Then I sat back again as I realized I didn’t have to worry about any of that stuff for another twelve minutes. My leg bounced uncontrollably, a subconscious attempt to rid myself of all this nervous energy.
Drew entered the library and noticed the panicked expression on my face. “Just checking to make sure Mike set everything up,” Drew said. I nodded and he chuckled. “You’ll do fine. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
He was just being polite, just trying to ease the alarming anxiety building inside me, but I was slightly annoyed by his interruption. I turned back to the laptop as he closed the door. I had to focus on the script. Not that I would forget my lines, but there was no guarantee Diane would ask any of the questions I was prepared to answer.
“Standby, Larissa.” Daniel’s voice blasted through the speakers, but all I could see was the empty anchor desk.
Diane appeared from the left side of the screen and settled into her seat at the desk. My heart pounded as I watched her and Daniel leafing through the notes while a hair stylist smoothed every shiny strand of hair on her head. My leg began bouncing again and I quickly sat up and centered my face in front of the camera.
Daniel and the hair girl stepped away and Diane cleared her throat before she looked into the camera, straight at me. “Can someone please bring me some water?” she asked, as she sat up straight then leaned forward slightly.
“Roll tape,” said an off-camera voice.
A hushed pause followed then came Diane’s soothing voice.
“We spoke with Larissa Jacobs today to give her a chance to clear the air surrounding the shocking accusations of her affair with presidential candidate and California Senator Chase Underwood. Larissa’s version of the scandal that has torn the presidential debate wide open just two days before Election Day may come as a surprise to those who read the version printed in the Los Angeles Times yesterday. Today, Larissa has agreed to a candid interview with no restrictions in hopes that the nation can move swiftly past these allegations before the coming election.”
“Cut.”
The version printed in the Los Angeles Times? You mean, the truth? I tried not to shake my head in dismay at the lies I was about to tell on national television.
It took nearly thirty minutes to setup the new camera angle, which displayed both Diane and the TV screen to her left where my frightened face suddenly appeared. I took a deep breath as I tried to adjust my expression and my posture to appear more confident.
“Roll tape.”
Diane took a moment to collect herself before she looked directly at my face on the screen. “Larissa, you have been accused of destroying Senator Chase Underwood’s chances at what had been dubbed a near certain presidential victory and possibly his entire career. The senator’s supporters have called you a whore. Conspiracy theories have cropped up about your being a saboteur working for the Republican party in an attempt to discredit the senator. Supporters of Underwood’s opponent, Vice President Heller, have called you a godsend. Do you think you have destroyed Senator Underwood’s presidential career?”
I took a beat, as Daniel instructed me to, before I answered. “No, Diane, I don’t believe I’ve destroyed the prospects of Senator Underwood’s presidential bid. I believe that the facts, and I, have not been accurately portrayed and, once the country knows what truly happened, Senator Underwood will be elected president on Tuesday.”
“Would you care to tell us what truly happened?”
This is it. Make it good, Larissa.
“Well, this all began with a somewhat foolish and desperate decision I made in August, while I was still living in Los Angeles. It was the end of the month and the rent was coming due on the apartment I shared with my roommate.” I paused so I wouldn’t sound like I was rambling nervously. “I had just been let go from my job as a children’s party entertainer and my roommate offered to get me a position with the escort service where he had been employed for three years.”
“And you accepted your roommate’s offer?”
“Foolishly, yes. My first day on the job was August 29th and that was the day I met Senator Underwood.”
“Are you saying Senator Underwood was your first client?”
If I were telling the truth, yes, that’s what I would say.
“No, Teddy Holt was my first and only client. Senator Underwood merely booked me to accompany Teddy to a black tie gala.”
Diane pretended to look confused by my response. “Are you saying Senator Underwood purchased you as a date for his campaign manager Theodore Holt?”
“Well, yes, initially the gala was going to be the end of it, but Teddy and I never actually went to the gala. We skipped out on the event and had the most amazing night on the cliffs of Malibu, where we fell in love.”
“That sounds like quite the fairy tale ending. However, I’m sure everyone would like to know… at any time, did you accept payment for sexual favors from either Senator Underwood or Teddy Holt?”
“I quit the escort service after my first day on the job and I never received a paycheck, so the answer to that question is no.”
“Did you, at any time, engage in a sexual relationship with Senator Chase Underwood?”
“I have never had a sexual relationship with Senator Underwood.”
“There are people who consider the escort business a cover for prostitution. Larissa, be honest with me, don’t you find the idea of being purchased as a date, even if you weren’t paid and no sexual favors were exchanged, the tiniest bit degrading.”
It took every bit of resolve not to tell her to go to hell and that she was the only one who made me feel degraded, but I kept my cool.
“That’s a good question, Diane, and I can understand how some would perceive the escort industry as a prostitution ring dressed up in an expensive suit. However, I’m afraid I don’t know much about the industry since I never actually finished a full day of work. My first day on the job was spent being interviewed by Senator Underwood and arranging for me to meet Teddy before the Baltimore visit.”
“Does the circumstances of your meeting with Teddy bother you at all?”
“Of course, it does,” I replied. “I still d
eal with the shame that my financial distress caused me to make such a desperate employment decision. But people meet and fall in love under much stranger circumstances every day. At some point, you have to stop judging yourself for something that resulted in such fortuitous consequences.”
Diane took a rather lengthy pause as she examined her notes. “Larissa, Heather Rodin at the L.A. Times has said she would like to sit down and speak with you one on one. She has even expressed a desire to apologize for any harm she may have caused. She said, and I quote, ‘Larissa is a smart girl who obviously is not afraid to chase after what she wants. I think we have a lot in common and might be great friends under different circumstances.’ Do you feel the same way about Heather? Do you think you two could ever put all this behind you and be friends?”
I couldn’t help but smile as I attempted to temper the anger blistering inside me. “I would gladly accept an apology from Heather, but, no, I don’t think Heather and I could ever be friends. Heather may have some redeeming qualities as a person, and I’m sure she has worked very hard to achieve her position at the Times, but the misinformation she printed yesterday gives me the impression that she is either very untrustworthy or unstable.”
“That’s a damning accusation to make about an, albeit upcoming, respected journalist.”
“Diane, let me tell you something about Heather Rodin,” I began, as I geared up to let loose the zinger Gideon had dug up on Heather to discredit her. I took a deep breath. “Heather Rodin fabricates sources. Her exposés are just a notch above tabloid trash. Last year, Heather Rodin wrote eight exposés, one of those was on Congresswoman Carol Jennings from Colorado and the misappropriation of federal wildlife preservation funds. She did another exposé on Nebraska State Senator Phillip Hardy’s alleged inappropriate relationship with a female coworker. On both occasions, she fabricated information, citing anonymous sources that did not exist.”
Diane furrowed her brow. “Cut,” she muttered, before she turned to someone off-camera. “Why isn’t any of this in my notes?” I waited for the interview to resume for more than thirty minutes before Diane returned looking a bit wild-eyed. “We will have to confirm your accusations before any of that can be aired,” she said, in a very friendly and reassuring tone. “For now, we’ll continue the interview.”
“I understand,” I replied.
Diane settled into her interviewer pose and the cameras rolled. “Larissa, we also spoke with Katherine Underwood who confirms your story. Her official statement to ABC News states that your romantic relationship with Teddy Holt was kept under wraps so as not to detract any momentum from the campaign, should the circumstances of your meeting become public. Katherine has stated that the two of you have become great friends and categorically denies that your relationship with her husband is anything but appropriate. Do you have anything you’d like to say publicly to Katherine Underwood?”
“Katherine and I only spoke briefly before I was whisked away into hiding after receiving multiple death threats. She knows how sorry I am that my relationship with Teddy has caused a whirlwind of misinformation and bad press, but I would like to take this opportunity to apologize once again. I am confident that Americans will accept the truth in time to make the right choice for our country. Senator Underwood has worked very hard over the past decade to make California and this nation a better place for all of us. I’m sure Americans will see past the rhetoric and speculation to focus on the hard truth when they cast their ballots on Tuesday.”
Diane asked a few more questions about my upbringing and my acting career before she thanked me for the interview and, right on cue, Drew entered the library to escort me down to the dining room for breakfast.
My stomach roared with hunger as soon as I smelled the scrambled eggs with crispy prosciutto, the fragrant melon-basil salad, and steamy cups of espresso. Drew pulled out a chair for me to take a seat at the long dining table.
“You’re not going to eat?” I asked, as he made his way toward the kitchen door.
He squinted his blue eyes as if he was considering my question.
“I just don’t want to be alone right now,” I added.
He turned around and took a seat in the chair across from me. “I was going to relieve Mike from the rear property entrance, but he can wait.”
“Thanks,” I said, as I popped some scrambled eggs into my mouth. “Oh. My. God. These are delicious. I’ll bet Chase has Mario Batali working in the kitchen.”
“I made the breakfast,” Drew replied, with a shy smile. “His last chef quit and he hasn’t bothered hiring a new one; too busy with the campaign. I figured the least I could do, after that Oscar-worthy performance, was make you something to eat.”
I squirmed in my seat as I began to imagine him in the kitchen, cooking for me, naked. I crammed more eggs into my mouth and hastily washed them down with the rest of my fresh-squeezed orange juice and espresso.
“Thirsty?” he remarked.
“You have no idea.”
3
I spent nearly two days shut inside my room, trying to resist my desire to talk to Drew. He continued to bring exquisite meals to my room even though I had insisted I didn’t need him to cook for me. I wanted to hear Chase’s voice. Every time I touched myself I thought of Chase, but this morning Drew’s face had flashed in my mind. I decided then that I would hold off until I saw Chase in three or four days—if I saw Chase in three or four days.
I sat cross-legged on the floor of the bedroom, just inside the doors leading to the balcony and watched the sunset. The polls had been open for a few hours on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. I should be watching the news coverage on my phone, but I couldn’t stand seeing all the interspersed clips of my interview with Diane Sawyer and Heather Rodin’s venomous reaction. I had destroyed Heather Rodin’s career. Actually, she had done that on her own when she fabricated her sources, but it didn’t make me feel any less awful.
A knock came at the door and Drew entered. “I brought you the laptop in case you want to watch the coverage on something bigger than a four-inch screen.”
“Thanks. You can set it down on the bed.”
He laid the computer on the bed and stared at me for a moment. “I was senior class president in high school.”
I smiled. “Is that supposed to impress me?”
“Of course,” he replied, as he joined me on the carpet. “I was embroiled in a big scandal just before that election. I’d been caught ditching home economics two days in a row.”
“Quite the scandal. How did you ever manage to recover from that one?”
“I paid off my Home Ec teacher to dispute the findings.”
I looked at him questioningly and he grinned.
“Okay, the truth is I won because I was extremely good looking. No one cared if I ditched class. There weren’t enough goody-goodies in the school to outweigh those who wanted to bask in the glow of my popularity.”
I chuckled weakly. “I get what you’re trying to say, Drew, but this is a whole other level of deception going on here. I just wish I could be honest. I wish everyone knew that Chase and Katherine’s relationship is a sham. I wish they knew that Chase and I are in love. That’s what I wish the most. I hate the secrecy more than the scandal.”
“Are you afraid he’s going to leave you if he loses?”
“What do you mean? Do you know something I don’t know?”
“No, no, I was just asking,” he replied, shaking his head emphatically. “It’s just… I’d hate to see you get hurt after all of this.”
“Well, I would really hate to get hurt after all of this. This is definitely the most complicated relationship I’ve ever been in.”
“To be fair, what did you expect? He’s Chase ‘Fucking’ Underwood.”
I shrugged. “I guess I didn’t expect to be hidden away in some remote corner of Europe, staring out a window at the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen, alone.”
“Hey,” he said, as he nudged my shoulder
. “You’re not alone.”
I turned to him and his smile made my stomach flip. The hair on my arms prickled as I thought of what I had been doing in the shower this morning when Drew’s face flashed in my mind. Suddenly, his face was just inches away. His boyish features and round blue eyes were getting closer; so close I could feel the warmth of his breath.
I placed my hand on his chest and pushed him back. “I’m sorry, Drew. I can’t do that.”
He placed his hands on the floor behind him and leaned back. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I find you very attractive and I think you deserve to be with someone who can give you everything you want; someone who can give every part of themselves to you.”
I stood from the floor and went to the bed where I scooped up the laptop. “Let’s watch some exit poll coverage.”
Ten hours later, at five o’clock in the morning Italy time, the call was made and Chase was declared the next President of the United States of America. The deciding factor was the narrow victory he eked out in North Carolina, a state that he had called home for nearly five years after college. It seemed his former neighbors felt more betrayed by his alleged affair than anyone else, though not enough to overrule his popularity.
I closed the laptop and stood from the floor.
“Don’t you want to see the victory speech?” Drew asked, as he stood.
“Not really.” I didn’t want to listen in vain for a thank you that would never come. As I approached the bed, my phone rang.
“Larissa,” Chase whispered. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”
Before I could open my mouth to respond, the line went dead.
I placed the phone on my nightstand as Drew made his way to the door. “Are you hungry or are you going to hit the sack?” he asked.
I stared at the phone for a moment. Two weeks? What had changed since we spoke two days ago? I opened the nightstand, tossed the phone into the drawer, and slammed it shut. “I’m starving.”
I didn’t hear from Chase at all for three days, which I opted to spend walking through the vineyard behind the villa rather than cooped up in the bedroom. My phone rang as I passed the infinity pool next to the tennis courts.
