Page 81 of No Ordinary Hate
I’m nestled under my faux fur throw on the couch eagerly awaiting Harper’s interview with Sophia Sato.
Word is that Oprah wouldn’t do the interview unless Brett was in on it. But the truth is, I love Sophia like she’s my second mother. I think it’s because she’s kind of maternal looking with those tunics meant to hide her midsection—I say “meant to,” because, hello? No one with an actual waist wears those things.
She also has a way of getting the good stuff out of the celebrities she interviews. She lulls them into a sense of calm and then bam! They spill the beans all over the table.
She calls people dear and sweetheart, so they start to feel like they're talking to their grandmother.
And my hairdresser’s half-sister’s milkman heard from Sophia’s people that Harper is expected to spill like the Exxon Valdez.
I’d better hurry up and eat this popcorn before I’m too riveted to chew and swallow.
All the dishes,
Ferris Biltmore
* * *
The Penninsula Hotel is known for the high-class sex workers who display their wares at the bar while looking for their next hourly boyfriend. Prisha and I used to come here and nurse one twenty-dollar martini while enjoying the show.
“You okay?” Prisha asks. She’s holding onto my elbow, moving me toward the elevator.
“As good as can be.” I fake a brightness I do not feel.
Ethan rushes ahead and pushes the up button. Once we’re in motion, he says, “Today should be the last of it. Just stick to vague answers and try to be as likable as you can. Not that you need to pretend to be likable. You’re very likable …”
“Calm down, Ethan,” Prisha tells him. Turning to me, she says, “Remember: you’re grateful for your fans, your support team, and all the opportunities you’ve had in life. You’ve been blessed with a wonderful career and two amazing children who are your everything.”
Ethan interrupts, “You’re focused on creating the best future possible for your children, and someday, whenthey’resettled, you look forward to resurrecting your career. You wish things had turned out differently, but you’ve fully embraced your new path and are excited for the tranquility that a fresh start will bring.”
“I remember the lines,” I say, irritation edging out my anxiety.
“We’re just doing our jobs,” Prisha says, before taking on a kindergarten teacher tone. “When she asks about Digger, you remember what to say?”
Letting out a sigh normally reserved for only the most hormonal teenagers, I robotically answer, “He was very kind to me at a time when I needed kindness. Unfortunately, that moment was caught on film and blown epically out of proportion. Blah, blah, blah…Brett and I had already been separated for several weeks.”
The elevator stops with a ding, letting us know we’ve reached our destination. The door to the penthouse opens and we’re greeted by Sophia’s producer. She’s got a clipboard in hand and she’s wearing a headset. Sticking out her hand, she rapid-fire says, “You’re here! Hair and makeup are in the bathroom. Sophia is just running over her questions in the living room. Sound check is in thirty. I’m Liza. Frankie will bring you water, but no nibbles once your lips are done. Okay? Good. Let’s get this show on the road!”
My heart rate accelerates with every word.
“Come on.” Prisha pulls me along like a lamb to the slaughter.
Hair and makeup take a grand total of twenty minutes as I arrived ninety percent ready. I just needed the final blush and brush. I’m wearing a conservative, short-sleeve twinset with a knee-length navy skirt, which is the opposite of sexy. If anything, I’m showing the world the very reason my husband looked elsewhere.
“Harper.” Sophia approaches me with a big smile on her fifty-something face. “You look lovely.”
I sit across from her. Crossing one ankle over the other like I’m the queen mother, I say, “You mean I look unoffensive.”
She lets out a chuckle. “You look like you know how the game is played.” She glances behind me. “You ready, Mario? One, two, three, and all that good stuff?”
“Just keep talking,” the director calls back. “We’ll make adjustments as needed and then we can start.”
A sound person approaches and wires me up while Sophia and I make small talk. “How are the kids handling everything?”
She’s just warming you up for the real interview, putting you in an emotional frame of mind. Do not fall for it. “Divorce is hard for young people. I’m doing my best to protect them, but I’m afraid they’re hearing more than they should at school.”
“Comes with the territory, huh? Hollywood kids grow upso much fasterthan normal ones.”
Normal ones, ouch. “Yeah, I suppose so.”