“Mmm. Good morning,” I answered back, fluffing the pillows and sitting up in his bed.
He put the coffee on the nightstand. “I guessed cream and sugar. ‘Suppose I should find stuff like this out.”
I was touched by his thoughtfulness. “Cream and sugar is perfect. So are you.”
He gave a shy smile and then pulled something out from behind his back. “Hey. Check this out. I’m going full-on John Lennon with the peace crusade, baby. I just had this made.” He snapped a T-shirt out toward me and I saw the motto for his Earthling Rights Foundation across the front:
LOVE
W I L L W I N ?
It was a song from the band Slanker Knox, and Trip had adopted it as the theme for his charity. What started out as a crusade for human rights had soon evolved into an all-encompassing organization, benefitting not just people in need, but animals, communities, and the environment as well. ERF helped military families, assisted children’s groups, and aided in disaster recovery. It gave tons of money to the ASPCA and funded various movements directed toward improving education and medical research.
It was really pretty amazing.
He flipped the shirt around to the side, and I saw the extra hit he’d had customized on the sleeve:
earthlingrights.org
It looked really good. So did he. “Nice.”
“You’d better get up. CNN will be here in about an hour.”
There was a camera crew on its way over to set up for a taped interview. Trip was excited to have a chance to plug his philanthropic venture to such a large audience. He’d founded the organization soon after he’d gotten out of rehab, but it took a couple years before it grew legs.
After reports came back about our under-protected soldiers in Iraq, ERF sent over a shipment of bullet-proof vests. After that tsunami ravaged the Asian coast, Trip’s people hand-delivered a shipment of goods and helped to care for the displaced citizens of Indonesia.
His charity was basically a group of real-life superheroes, coming to the rescue of any fellow humans that were in need. I was really proud of him for the time and money he devoted to it.
I stopped daydreaming and hauled myself out of bed, slammed down the coffee, and got my butt in the shower. By the time I made my way into the den, Trip was pacing the room. I watched as he futzed with the pillows on the couch, changed the angle of the side chair, and picked a non-existent piece of debris off the floor. I swear, he was being even more OCD than me.
“Trip! Stop. The place looks perfect.” And it did. I’d seen with my own eyes the considerable amount of time Mrs. Elena had spent in that very room, readying it for the day’s filming.
He stopped his pacing to look at me and say, “I don’t know. You think we should do this outside instead? This room is too… serious.”
I’d already taken note of the framed artwork Trip had chosen for his walls. Most were enlarged photographs or prints of various landscapes. But upon closer inspection, I realized they were tagged with the names of some of the places he’d visited over his lifetime: Lagos, Nigeria. Cairo, Egypt. Antananarivo, Madagascar. It was as though he were trying to constantly remind himself of all the people who didn’t live in such grandeur.
“Your charity is serious. Stop second-guessing yourself. Once your face shows up onscreen, no one will be looking at the room, anyhow, studmuffin.”
He gave me a durr-hurr face and threw one of the couch pillows at me.
I laughed and put it back on the sofa.
And then Trip rearranged it.
The film crew finally showed up then, taking over the house. Sandy was there, greeting everyone and directing the setup. I was panicked at the thought that the beautiful tile floors would be scratched by the wobbly wheels of the equipment dollies. I was too preoccupied with that spectacle to be nervous for Trip, who spent his time vacillating between gracious host and nervous wreck. This was, by far, not the first interview he’d ever conducted, but I guessed he was a little freaked out because it was the most important. Of course his charity was reported on and he was normally asked a few questions about it on talk shows, but this was the first time ERF was going to be the main focus of a full-length interview on a major news network.
After everyone had bagels (I will refrain from tearing California bagels a new asshole here) and coffee, it was time to film the interview. Perry Kingston settled himself in the chair, while Trip took a seat on the couch. A tech got them mic’d up as Sandy went over the line of questions, schmoozing just a bit with Perry. The man was a known egomaniac, and Sandy made sure to give him the proper attention to which he felt he was due.