Chapter nineteen
Ben
“You were born for PR,” Charles says as he leans forward, offering his hand. We shake once, firmly.
“I was just ensuring all sides of the story were aired.”
Antonia is nowhere to be seen. I’d assumed she’d appear mid-interview once she knew it was happening. Opengate is her life, and even though Julian was given some reins, she’ll be watching.
I take another sweep of the room, on alert for the blazing ponytail. Nope. Her absence can’t be a good thing. There’s no chance she doesn’t know by now. I just wonder how angry she will be, or worse, disappointed in my performance.
“Not many TV virgins could handle an interview like that,” Charles continues.
For a person who makes a living from interviewing others, he has no concept of body language. I have no interest in speaking to him. My job is done. I want to forget I ever let the cameras roll.
Julian holds court in one corner of the room, Opengate employees flanking him. He beams. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I’m sure he’s congratulating himself. He disappeared for a few minutes as the interview wrapped, but appeared back, spine even straighter.
The TV set collapses around me as I sit in the same chair, considering whether this was a smart move. I pull my cell from my inside pocket. The screen is littered with messages, and I scroll through—only looking for one name. Antonia. It’s not there. I check my email. Nothing.
“You were exceptional,” Julian’s voice cuts through the noise. I stuff the phone back in my pocket. “Positivity skyrocketed while you were on air.”
He offers me his hand. I rise and take it.
“Have we achieved what you wanted?” I ask.
“We’ve had a local MP tweet support. And an endorsement for Opengate from three industry leaders.” His cheeks puff out.
I just want to go home.
But not before clearing the air with Antonia. Ensuring that I haven’t ruined the relationship we had. Working relationship. I correct myself mentally. Not sure if it’s really what I meant, but it feels like it should be.
“That’s great,” I say, but Julian has already skipped off to be praised by someone else. I turn to see Clara walking toward me, one hand fixing a stray hair at her temple.
“Antonia wants to see everyone in the boardroom in ten minutes.” Her eyes slide to Julian, who’s not listening, then return to me. “Well handled,” she adds before leaving.
The atmosphere in the boardroom is less celebratory than in the conference room. The board files in. Antonia is already sitting at the top of the table, nose in her phone. Clara shuffles beside her. I sit a seat further down than usual, so I can look hereasily in the eye. Today, we don’t feel the same team as before. The shift worries me.
Julian walks in last. He’s barely sat down when he starts spewing numbers.
“Five endorsements. Sentiment has flipped.” He bangs the table with his fists. “Engagement is through the roof.”
Antonia looks up then. Composed, but frosty. Her eyes almost blank.
“We need to capitalize,” Julian continues. His grin gets bigger with each word.
“This isn’t a campaign,” I say once he finishes. “This was one interview.”
“Yes, but…”
I hold up my hand. This train needs to be derailed before he’s signing me up for breakfast television. He bristles.
“I said one interview,” I repeat. “For the retreat. For Opengate.”
Antonia taps a long sharp fingernail on the table. All eyes move to her, while she stares at me. I shift in my seat; her focus makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Scrutiny in a single long glance.
“You handled yourself well,” she says.
Handled. The same word Clara used; I feel discussed. As if my performance was measured before they stepped foot in here. I wonder if the points I earned outweigh the ones I lost by going ahead with the interview she told me she didn’t want to watch.