Author Interviews Novels & Stories

Millicent's POV I agree to one interview. Just ONE. It's a compromise, less invasive than a television appearance, more controlled than a press conference. The magazine is a respectable lifestyle publication, the kind that runs profiles on socialites and philanthropy and people who buy very expensive things. Not hard-hitting journalism, not tabloid speculation, just a soft-focus look at the woman who married Damon Hale. The journalist is a woman named Moira Queen, mid-forties, warm smile, a professional demeanor that immediately puts me at ease. She arrives at the mansion with a photographer, a recorder and a list of questions that Damon's team has already properly vetted.

“My publicist would go over the article before it would be published. We also need to do some photo shoots during the interview so I’d have someone dress you.” “I don’t feel comfortable talking to anyone about this crazy arrangement.” “We will not be talking about that. My publicist will be briefing you tomorrow. I would be going out with Leo so you can discuss things with her.” I explained. “You wouldn’t be briefed about it?” She asked. “I’m used to giving interviews and I can say shit and it never ends up on paper. I have an image that the media would never want to ruin.” “Then why do we have to do the interview if you can just make them write something good about you?”

They seemed to be talking, seriously. Quinn then came to me. He said there was a journalist who asked permission to interview me privately. Quinn added that the journalist was from Indonesia Herald. "Are you willing to be interviewed privately?" Quinn asked me. "He's from Indonesia Herald, isn't he," I said, "it's the media company owned by Alex Limantoro, an acquaintance of my grandfather. It's okay, I'll talk to him." "Are you sure?" asked Quinn. "Yes," I replied. "All right," said Quinn, "wait here, I'll tell him."

If I need a moment. I almost laugh. No one ever asks me that. “I’m ready,” I say. She presses record. This interview is on the record, she says aloud. “With Ava Montgomery. Conducted at her request. On her terms.” I breathe in. Then out. “Let’s begin,” I say. She starts softly. My childhood. My career. Things already known. Things that feel safe to say again. I answer in short sentences. Plain words. No drama. Just facts.