Page 54 of Hot Mic

Forty-Four

It was out. It was all out.

Across the glass, Robin could see Pip, Dora and Gemma in the control booth. Pip looked like she wanted to crawl under the soundboard; Dora and Gemma were grinning at each other like they’d hit the jackpot.

‘Sienna,’ Zoe said, cutting through the white noise in Robin’s ears. ‘How did you feel about that kiss?’

‘I’m not answering that,’ Sienna said. Her tone wasn’t her usual polished broadcast voice. It was emotional.

‘Sienna, you’re on a live feed to three hundred thousand people—’

‘We’re done with that line of inquiry,’ Sienna cut in, her voice tight enough to snap a wire.

Zoe didn’t push. She didn’t have to. She just pivoted in her chair, the vinyl squeaking softly, and turned her full spotlight directly onto Robin.

‘Robin,’ Zoe said.

Robin gulped. ‘Present.’

‘Why did you both lie about it?’ Zoe asked. ‘Why hide the kiss?’

Robin swallowed, her throat feeling like sandpaper. ‘Look, I was just following Sienna’s lead. You know me, Zoe. I’m an open book. I spill my guts for a living. I didn’t care one way or the other if anyone knew.’

Karen’s voice cut in flatly. ‘Truth index: thirty-eight point two percent confidence. High probability of deception.’

‘Karen, can you expand?’ Zoe asked.

‘I think it’s pretty self-explanatory,’ Karen said mildly.

Zoe was annoyed, but she had bigger fish on the hook. Namely, Robin. ‘So, who initiated the kiss?’

Robin’s pulse hammered directly against the finger cuffs. She looked over at Sienna. Sienna looked like she was quietly waiting for death to take her.

‘I did,’ Robin admitted quietly.

‘Truth index: ninety-six point one percent confidence,’ Karen noted.

‘You initiated,’ Zoe repeated. ‘Why?’

Robin tried for a casual shrug. ‘It was a total impulse. Finding our matches kissing in the corridor like that... I just felt like it.’

Karen didn’t even hesitate. ‘Truth index: fourteen point seven percent confidence. High probability of deception.’

‘Try again, Robin,’ Zoe said, her eyes glittering. ‘Why did you kiss her?’

Robin kept her mouth firmly shut. The leather seat felt suffocatingly hot. She stared down at her lap.

‘Robin?’ Zoe pressed. Her voice dropped into a sickeningly gentle, maternal register that made Robin want to tear her own ears off. ‘Why did you kiss your co-host in that corridor?’

Robin didn’t move. She didn’t say a word. Silence stretched over the studio, heavy and suffocating.

Zoe let out a small, disappointed breath. ‘All right. Here’s an easier one. Why did you hold her hand in the cottage?’

‘I’m not answering that again,’ Robin muttered, her gravelly voice barely carrying into the mic.

‘Robin, the listeners want to know—’

‘Zoe, this isn’t Guantánamo Bay!’