Avery became serious. “Not easy. Difficult. Exhausting.”
I sat up in my chair. “Avery and I are both very committed to creating meals that people enjoy.” I tried to obey Margot’s instructions to speak slowly, trying to act as though I were having coffee with a friend. “We try to give our guests memorable food, and we hope the show really gives a good behind-the-scenes peek of a premier kitchen. Kind of a peeping Tom’s view into the real story behind delicious food.”
Bunny pounced. “Speaking of heat and of peeping Toms, a little birdie told me that someone has been spying on you two. And that you might have been building a little heat of your own. Let’s take a look.”
I opened my mouth, shut my mouth, tried to formulate a response to the photo that had taken over the image on all the monitors within viewing distance, and therefore, within the contiguous United States of America. It was a photo of Avery and me on the fireplace night, to be sure, but this version was enhanced, very well focused, and taken from an angle that showed me surrendering fully to Avery’s kiss. In fact, though I could not remember doing it, I had an urgent arm draped around his neck.
An arm with a hand that had a manicure.
I didn’t get manicures.
I could feel The Splotch forming along the neckline of my shirt, up to my ears, along my jaw. This was a rapid-fire Splotch, and it was showing off for FIVE MILLION PEOPLE.
“Mmmm,” Bunny said with a mischievous lilt in her voice. “Looks like those ties run deep between you.”
Avery put up his hands in defense. “Now, now. That was an accident. Really. Broke up. Long time ago.”
I gathered myself enough to say, “We’re just good friends.”
Stan snorted. “I wish I had a friend that good.” Before we could respond, he pushed through to the next bullet point on his index card. “Charlie, I’m glad you brought this up.”
I brought nothing up! I felt my jaw clench at the mounting injustices.
“You mentioned you and Avery have had struggles in your relationship but that you are friends to the end.”
What was going on? I said nothing of the sort! I leaned forward in my chair and glimpsed Margot shooting me with laser eyeballs from behind the camera.
Bunny picked up the line of questioning. “How do you achieve a balance between work and relationships in such a demanding profession?”
“Well,” I said, trying to draw out the word as I scrambled for a good answer that wasn’t blatantly a lie. “I’m still learning how to strike a good balance. I have good days and bad days, I suppose.”
Stan nodded, suddenly solemn. “I can imagine it’s difficult, particularly when people can be so spiteful. So hateful, really.”
Bunny sighed, her eyes widened in concern for me, her new best friend. “Charlie, what would you say to your detractors who have implied that to be a woman in your position, you must have, shall we say, compromised your integrity?”
I felt the bile in my stomach rising up through my esophagus. “I’m not sure where you are getting your information, but—”
“Charlie is a good woman,” Avery interrupted, his brow furrowed. “She deserves her position at Thrill and has worked for years to get there.”
Bunny sighed. Her false eyelashes batted once as she took in the man who was finally able to speak in full sentences. “What a beautiful defense of someone you truly care about.”
I stared at the woman. Was she actually getting misty? If my fingers gripped any more ferociously to the sides of my fancy modern chair, I would rip off the veneer and be left with metal rods.
Stan nodded and slapped his knee with his index card, as though grateful to have made it through such a harrowing interview. “America, if you’re anywhere but in front of your television this Saturday night at nine o’clock, eight central, you are missing out. I’m telling you, these two people and, heck, the whole team of Thrill Me are going to knock your socks off. Thanks for coming in today, guys. Avery Michaels and Charlie Garrett, everybody!”
The crowd cheered, and peppy theme music played in the background. Bunny held my hand in hers as she turned to the camera. “Join us after the break when we get down and dirty about the growing back-to-school epidemic: cyberbullying. Back in a moment!”
The cameraman waved us off, and I saw the monitors cut to a commercial for a bathroom cleaner. Two production people were on us like flies, removing our mics and directing us off the stage.
“Thanks, kids,” Stan said. He clicked his tongue to his cheek and made a pistol with his fingers, which he fired at a grinning Vic.
“Come back and cook for us sometime,” Bunny said, though her words were swallowed by a woman who was standing in front of her and touching up her lipstick.