Page 111 of Home Grown Talent
It looked exactly the same as the last time Mason had been in here. The same institutional rows of seats, the same depressing array of tired refreshments on the table underneath the widescreen TV mounted on the wall where Weekend Wellness played silently, the dialogue showing up as captions on the screen. The only difference was that Owen wasn’t here. Instead, there were two other occupants: a minor soap actor who Mason recognised but whose name he couldn’t remember—and Misty, who was pacing the floor impatiently.
She looked up when they entered, her expression furious. “Jesus Christ, Naomi! Did you go via fucking Scotland?”
Naomi flushed scarlet. “Sorry,” she muttered. “Carmen had moved to 3.14.”
Misty made a noise of disbelief. “You’ve been gone seventeen fucking minutes!”
Naomi didn’t say anything, her shoulders rounded, her whole mien defeated.
“Well, I’m here now,” Mason said calmly, “so what did you want to talk about?”
Misty turned to him. Then her gaze shifted to the soap actor who was considering a plate of limp pastries at the refreshment table and probably pretending not to listen.
“Come and sit down,” she hissed, grabbing Mason’s sleeve and tugging him over to the end of the row of seating, as far away from the actor as possible. Over her shoulder, she said to Naomi, “Make yourself useful and get me a skinny cap. No fucking sprinkles this time.”
Naomi nodded and slipped away, the door closing softly behind her.
Mason lowered himself onto the seat next to Misty, trying to maintain a sliver of space between them, hating the way she crowded in against him.
“Bloody hell, Mason, what were you thinking, swanning in here two hours late, today of all days?” she began in a low voice, her eyes hard with fury. She shot another glance at the actor, then said, even more quietly, “Forget it. We don’t have time to talk about that now. Did you get the notes Naomi sent through last night?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“And you’re clear about how your segment is going to go?”
Mason nodded. “The notes were very straightforward,” he said, keeping his voice calm and measured. “It doesn’t look like it’s going to take long.”
“We were aiming for five minutes,” Misty said, “but Gregor Peterson cancelled on us, so we’re extending to ten. We’ll cover the key points from the notes first, then show a short VT, and then Leah will do some follow-up questions. I’ve emailed them to you—check your phone.”
“Okay.”
Misty let out a sigh. “Look, I know it’s been a rough week for you—it’s been rough for all of us—but this has actually turned into a great opportunity. And I don’t just mean for you to grow your followers and me to increase our viewers—it’s an opportunity for us to say something important about how we treat other people, you know?”
Mason stared at her, utterly flabbergasted. Had she actually convinced herself of her own lies somehow?
But he didn’t say that out loud or any of the other furious words that had been percolating inside him all week. Even though it felt like those words were poisoning him and he hated that he had to push them down, leave them unsaid.
“Okay, key messages,” Misty said briskly. “Be regretful about what’s happened but not defensive. We’re not to blame here. We need to put clear blue water between us and Hunter on that front. Got it?”
He nodded. “Got it.”
“Good.” Some of the tension in Misty’s lean frame seemed to go out of her. After a pause, she added, “And what about your socials? Have you posted anything yet?”
“Yeah, last night—just saying I’d be on the show today talking about #pineapplegate. Nothing more.”
He’d wondered, as he’d posted the unfiltered picture of himself, whether Owen would see it—and if so, what he’d think. The worst, probably.
“Good stuff,” Misty said. “And you saw what we’ve got lined up for socials after?”
“Yeah. It was all in Naomi’s notes. I’ve lined up my own posts, ready to go after the show. I just used the suggested wording she sent.”
Finally Misty smiled, clearly pleased with his efficient obedience. “This is why I like working with you, Mason. Other than today’s tardiness snafu, you’ve been very professional, and I want to get you back on the show as soon as I can. I’ve been batting around some ideas with the team, and, in the run-up to summer, we think a segment on top-secret supermodel eating plans would play really well with our audience. Help getting beach-body-ready is like catnip for our pudgy demographic.” She laughed. “Which, let’s face it, is about 99 per cent of our viewers!”
Mason didn’t have a top-secret supermodel eating plan, but he didn’t bother to point that out. Just smiled and said, “That sounds great. I appreciate it, Misty.”
She patted his arm. The slightly frantic look she’d been wearing when he first arrived had melted away now. “Okay, I better go,” she said, her voice rising to its normal volume. “I need to get back to the control room. I daren’t leave Cam and Simon too long on their own. I could really do without any more disasters today!” She rolled her eyes and got to her feet. “Oh, and Naomi’s put Austin Coburn’s PA in touch with your agent for that article, like I promised.” She gave him an exaggerated wink and said archly, “You’re welcome!”
He smiled again. “Thanks.”