CARL
The moment I watched Linda storm in my direction, I could already tell that something was wrong. Her expression said more than enough. She panted as she walked, her lips slightly parted with every huff. I dropped the script I was going over and met her in the middle of the set, also bracing myself for whatever might come next.
Arguments with Linda were as feeble as saying how are you? To a child, it could happen anywhere- so shamelessly that I would be bothered enough to breathe a word about it. I just carried the cross and thought to myself that I'd brought it up again myself. This was the result of my own bad decisions. Her eyebrows were tightly furrowed, and the first thing I felt the moment Linda arrived at my presence was her hands slamming into my forehead.
I didn't stagger back because the hit had no effect, but she did it again, then again. Hitting me as she yelled something inaudible. Why? Die? I couldn't tell apart what she was shouting, and I didn't want to ask either. Frankly, it felt like routine. The glancing eyes and judging stares were easier to ignore now. After all, it was only a matter of time before people recognized how mad of a couple we were.
Let it on.
"Why would you do that?" She finally stepped back, looking up at me with red, puffy eyes and a sad face. "Answer me. Why would you do that? All this while, I thought she was at the mercy of you!"
Argh. I had no idea what this was about, but my mind told me it was strongly related to Alma. For the sake of the place we were and the nosy journalists desperate for a story, I reluctantly pulled closer to Linda and softly placed my hand on either side of her shoulders.
The urge to roll my eyes was almost undefeatable. "Let's not make a scene," I gritted my teeth as I talked, maintaining a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "I don't know what this is about, but if there's anything you want to talk about, Linda, I suppose you can do it without giving these ten staff members here something new to say about us."
She glared at me; that glint of malice in her eyes didn't fade in any way. When Linda opened her mouth, it dawned on me that I was the lunatic for trying to reason with her. "Alma. ALMA! YOU SAID SHE WANTED TO DO THIS INTERVIEW! YOU SAID SHE BEGGED YOU!?"
"Keep. Your. Voice. Down," I bit into the words while my hands spasmed. It was quite unfortunate that I could place them over her mouth without asphyxiating her in the process of it. "I never told you that. I never said anything like that, so what is wrong with you? What's this pointless accusation?"
"Pointless accusation!?" She pushed me with both hands again before walking around in a small circle and looking up at me. "You begged your ex-wife to come to an interview with you, and...you get to call me unreasonable?"
Oh, Christ. "Linda, it's either we do this, or we don't," I enunciated carefully, trying to salvage the situation, although my heart felt like it was beginning to burst at its seams. "If you're going to be like this, go home and take time off. I'm not taking up any babysitting jobs anymore!"
"How could you say that?" Her voice quivered, and tears welled up in her eyes. I watched her gulp hard, and I felt a bitter bile at the back of my neck, too, hurting my speech. "Do you still love her? Is that why you're treating me this way?"
Thankfully, the reporter's voice came before I could even begin to answer that horrible question. "It's time! Please get on the stage."
"I'd surprise you," Linda retorted as she stormed off, going after the reporter.
"Don't do anything stupid," I warned, but who was I kidding? That was all she ever did.
Do you still love her? I didn't know what my response would be, as I was just as confused as Linda was. Maybe the fact that I felt apologetic towards Alma was dictating my emotions, but I wouldn't pretend and say there wasn't something more. I noticed how much my heart started to race the moment I caught a glimpse of Alma, like right now, as she walked in and my eyes met hers.
A smirk crawled up her face, something that preached sheer mockery and humiliation, but I was way too flustered to feel any of that. I felt a horse race in my stomach, and my system was immediately disheveled- just by looking at her. Anxiety clawed at my chest, and my mouth went completely dry as she walked to me.
Alma brushed past me, then stopped immediately; she was a few steps away. Her head cocked in my direction, and suddenly, I was placed under the mercy of those judging brown eyes.
"Nice thing you have going on for you," she joked, her eyes squinting. "I thought honesty was the best policy, no? Your wife is just perfect for you."
Alma walked off, and all I could do was watch her while feeling like a massive piece of shit. That was exactly what I was. Soon enough, we were before a dozen cameras in a room with awful lighting and red blinking lights that indicated all-over actions were getting recorded.
Linda was perched to my side like a nightmare, while Alma was at the other side of the round table. She was all I could see, stare at. God, she was beautiful. Her presence was flawless and captivating, and even the air was electrified by it.
The reporter began her pitch, giving a round summary of everything that had happened before finally throwing the question. "My first question to Miss Alma Jenkins is, how did you feel when the news broke out, and those pictures resurfaced again?"
Alma's eyes flicked to the teleprompter that had been prepared by both our PR teams. The answer was easy- she wasn't comfortable with it, as it was just a picture of us fooling around in our early days. It was quite easy. She squirmed in her seat. "It wasn't unexpected, neither was it comfortable, as everything is very different now. Those pictures were taken at an early stage of our relationship, and were just...fleeting."
Fleeting. Her voice trailed, and the reporter simply nodded. "Understandable. And on your part, Mr. Harrison? How did it feel?"
"Just...normal. I mean, we're better adults now. The public just got the wrong opinion on those pictures, which is understandable. The situation now is very different."
"And what does very different mean to you, Mr. Harrison?"
"Oh, he's married!" Linda chipped in uninvited and disrupted the flow of questions. We'd prepared a different response for that, too. Frankly, I couldn't even say I was surprised. "He's in a happy marriage now. I mean, he realized over time what he actually wanted and had to make the best changes of his life."
The reporter glanced at me, then inconspicuously at the director and camera operators because we'd already begun to stray off the path. I nudged Linda, and I got a hiss as a response. "Let me say things as they are," she muttered underneath her breath.
"Oh, that's a well-crafted response," the reporter lulled. "Mr. Harrison, you may now answer the question."
Ah, yes. I cleared my throat. "It...was very different from now in the sense that Alma used to be...." How do I phrase this? The teleprompter had gone black, leaving me to retch up words from the depth of my throat. "Alma and I had a fleeting romantic relationship before we...had to drift apart for several reasons, and I...asked for a divorce."
"In order to be with me," Linda finished, and my heart skipped more than one beat at the shittiness of the entire situation.
It hadn't ever dawned on me like this, that I might be the most controversial person on the face of the earth until this very moment, where I'd love for the face of the Earth's crust to split and swallow me whole. Completely. I left her for her sister, all because I was blindsided.
By what exactly? Beads of sweat broke loose on my forehead, and the seat was no better than a cactus. Maybe I didn't think this through, and rather than make things better, it would break it apart completely.
The reporter left Linda's response hanging in the air, and I'd never been more grateful. Now, the next question was directed at Alma. "Did your coming back to LA to take over Jenkins LTD have anything to do with your previous relationship with Carl Harrison, and your half-sister, Linda Jenkins?"
Such a blatant question! That wasn't in the fucking script! For a barely noticeable moment, I could sense Alma's discomfort, and the urge to do something about it hit me like a blow to the chest, so I tried to speak. "That's not--"
"No," Alma cut in. Her voice, unlike mine or Linda's, was firm and precise. Her posture was intimidating, and it wasn't a joke that Alma controlled the narrative. "My past relationship with him wasn't exactly of great importance, which also means it was easy to get over, and in no way, in the past or future, can it dictate my decision. I only came back to LA upon, my grandfather's beckoning, and I realized it was a pretty great scope to widen my business. That decision was solely business-oriented."
I'd clap if I weren't too busy gawking at her. "And Mrs. Linda, how did Miss Alma's presence make you feel? Especially upon hearing the news of the succession..."
"Can we stick to the main topic?" I asked, already feeling annoyed with the way things were turning out. "We've diverted too much. This is supposed to be about the pictures, not a peek into our personal lives."
"Thanks, love," Linda leaned in and kissed my lips, and I scowled like I was hit with venom. Her voice was unnecessarily airy and high-pitched, filling me with more disgust. I'd give anything to just have Linda loosen her grip around my hand. "I love you!"
It ended on a questioning edge, and it was obvious that Linda wanted me to say it back. My tongue remained glued to the roof of my mouth while Alma's eyes pierced mine. I struggled to say it back and get it over with.
It was a simple I love you, but Alma's gaze lingered. I couldn't tell what her thought was, but I was desperate not to ruin it. The wave of guilt suddenly washed over me, and the world blurred at the same moment. I need to apologize to Alma.
I needed to. I needed to. Linda nudged me, but I didn't respond. Rather, I leaned towards the table and pulled closer to the microphone. This was national TV? Great. Now that whole world could hear me apologize to her, after five long years.
"What are you doing?" Linda asked.
Too late. The consequences of my next course of action flashed in my eyes. I'd most likely lose business deals, have to put up with comments from the viewers and public criticism, but if it will, in any way, make Alma hate me less, I'd take my chance. I was going to take my chance.
"Carl..." Linda called out again, but her voice bounced off. It felt like I was in a trance.
"Alma, I'd like to say something," I began slowly, carefully, as I'd rather die than mince words. Why was it so hard to speak? Linda pinched my thigh, and I glared at her, shutting her up in the process. "The past few years of-"
"Ouch!" I heard that very familiar yell slide out of Linda, and I reflectively turned to her. She was wincing, with her head thrown back. Linda sucked her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. "Carl," her hand rested on her stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick. It's...the baby causing this."
WHAT. FUCKING. BABY!? My eyes widened, but the reporter asked the question for me with an intriguing tone. "What...baby, Mrs. Linda?"
I'd rather die than look at Alma.
Linda tucked her hair behind her ears and blinked repeatedly. "Oh!" She faked surprise. "I didn't mean to say it out loud on TV! It's our little secret; then again, everyone deserves to know. "I'm pregnant. I'm carrying Carl's child."