XV – EMILY

The second try, so to speak

Some people just don't have any respect for other people's privacy! Okay, I'm well aware how ironic a line like that sounds, especially coming from a reporter, of all people. But that doesn't mean I don't have a right to complain, you know?

First of all, before I tell you what happened to me after The Centre and The Triumvirate went bye-bye, let me clear you on something: that Emily you saw in the chapter with Mr. White was not me. I don't know who the hell that person was – probably some bimbo the author made up when I told him I had better things to do than to be a part of this mockery – but I can assure you it wasn't me. I'll admit she played her part well, very in consonance with what you know about me. But what in fact do you know? All you have seen of me so far was:

me sitting at a limo with mom, eating Ferrero Rocher, while Jarod was chased by sweepers (the camera shot missed the chocolates)

me lying down on the sidewalk after being thrown out a window by Lyle (just seconds before asking him for a cup of coffee)

me lying in bed, being nurse by dad and Jarod

So, in sum, you know nothing about me. Therefore, you would have no way to realize that that person pretending to be me was being too soft on that bastard.

I can let you take your part in that story and rewrite it here.

“No! I want something fresh for me, something original. I don't want a repetition!”

I'll let you kick his ass for snapping those pictures of your--

“Why does everyone keeps telling that? I don't have a tattoo! Not there, not anywhere!”

Really? But Mr. White told--

“Yeah. Like he isn't a liar or anything. You don't believe me? All right! I'll show you!”

That's not necessary. I'll take your word for it. Not that it matters much anyway, but I still need to know what you want to do with your story.

I thought about that for a moment and then I knew what I wanted.

“I want to interview him, but I don't want a rewrite. I want a new interview, under my terms, on a location of my choosing. And I want some assistance.”

You want someone else there with you? Why?

“I need someone that can keep Mr. White on his toes.”

That can be arranged. Who did you have in mind? Miss Parker? Mr. Lyle? They're already done with their stories so they have time to--

“No. I was thinking maybe Dara or Natalie. Maybe Zane.”

I'm sorry, Emily. I'm not bringing the new characters into this series. It'll mess things up.

“No more than they already are. Besides, you opened up a precedent when you mentioned a couple of them during Jarod's story.”

Fine! Let's just get this over with! Bloody pretenders! You think you're all so damned smart!

“Good. Here's what I want...”

~*~

I waited a few seconds for the man tied to the chair to wake up. After almost ten, I got tired of waiting and slapped him hard.

“What the hell, mom!” he said, as he jerked up.

“Sorry, mom I'm not.”

“You? What the hell do you want?”

“I want to interview you.”

“Again? Doesn't this author have any appearance of originality left in him?”

“Shut up!” I said and slapped him again.

“Hmm... Feisty... I like that.”

I was about to hit him one more time, when I noticed he was not afraid of it. In fact, he was smiling – almost as if we was expecting it. No, not expecting, welcoming it. So, instead of slapping him, I caressed his cheek. Which rattled him quite a bit.

“W-what are you doing?”

“What do you think I'm doing? I'm being friendly with you.”

“Why? I mean, I'm one of the villains...”

“Yeah... And you're so hot! Wow! Someone is blushing! I better stop calling you Mr. Red instead of Mr. White.”

“Stop that! Anything but that!”

“Why not, Reddie? Little Mr. Red?”

All of a sudden, he leaned his forward and started to convulse.

Is he...?

“Are you crying?”

“No...” he said, with a full nose.

“God damn it! Why is he like this? Did you do this?”

Prison can change a man. I figured that he--

“Unbelievable! Just fricking unbelievable! What am I supposed to do with him now?”

I thought you wanted to re-interview him.

“And how am I supposed to do that? If I try to torture him, he most likely will enjoy it; if I try a subtler approach, he turns into a basket case. What options do I have left?”

I don't know...

“You're really awful, you know that?”

Hey! I busted my ass to get you everything you asked and this is the thanks I get? I got you the location you wanted and you made no attempt to mention the place, much less describe--

“Fine!”

We were in a small room, on the former SL-27, now the final level of the parking structure that was built und--

It's too late for that now! Not to mention the new character you wanted so badly. And for what? You put him behind Mr. White and made no reference to him whatsoever! Why did you wanted it if you had no intention of using it?

“I wanted to have the op--”

THE END

“Hey! You can't cut me off me like that! You hear me? Ah!!! I could slap someone right about now!”

“Don't forget about me, honey.”

“Shut up, White.”