Page 3 of The Gift
My eyes flick from Carmen to Ben. He’s one of our editors, and even though this is his first job, he’s incredible. His blazing red hair mixes with the palest skin I’ve ever seen on a man but that’s more to do with the hours he spends in the dark working on production, making us look good, rather than anything else.
“Are you sure we should celebrate that? Regalo was a bad experiment turned to a stinking pile of horse shit. People were killed, horrifically, lives were changed.” I challenge every person sitting around the table with my words and my icy stare. Most of them shrug, a couple drop their eyes as everyone remembers when it happened.
December twenty-first.
It should have been a time for people to come together and celebrate the lead up to Christmas. But that night most of the country stopped to watch, and what they witnessed both shocked and left a lot of people emotionally bruised by the carnage.
Ask anyone and I’d pay money on them being able to recall exactly what they were doing when the first scenes hit screens all over the country. Every television station and social media platform was full of images that kept rolling like a Hollywood blockbuster, including choppers, blazing fire, and flashing lights.
“It’s not a celebration as such, but people need to remember what happened. It’s a memorial,” Ben replies quietly, his thumb going a million miles an hour on the clicker of his pen in direct conflict with his timid statement.
Carmen snatches the pen out of his hand, throwing it out of his reach. Thankfully too, it was sounding suspiciously like a ticking time bomb. Everyone, including me, breathes easier once the noise stops. People shuffle, letting the tension go and getting more comfortable.
“And it’s not enough for us to let the survivors live in peace?” I ask gently. I make sure to include everyone, sweeping my gaze around the room. Making sure they heard but also so I can get a glimpse of their reaction. To me, the more we discuss this, the more I feel like something akin to an avalanche is coming. I don’t know if it’s a sense of foresight, but if it is, I’m taking them down with me.
“I think it’s an incredible opportunity for us to give those people back their voice. Considering they had none. It gets me every time I think about what they were forced to endure. Don’t you think our compassion is fitting? Shouldn’t they know that as a collective, as a society, that we care?” Tracey asks. She was one of the earlier shruggers, and I get her indifference. I really do. But those survivors need more than indifference. They need passion so hot it scars; they need conviction that burns the horror away.
“Personally, I think they should be left to get on with their lives, but I can easily agree it’s bound to be a sensation. Whose suggestion was the timing?” I ask, pointedly watching my executive producer squirm on the spot.
“Okay, full disclosure. It was an idea floated to us. At this stage the think-tank wants to remain anonymous, but of course the channel jumped on it. But Bailey, Donnie brought it to our team first. To see if we wanted it. He could have taken it to one of the others.”
I run my nail across my teeth, almost aggressively, or perhaps subconsciously I’m putting obstacles in my mouth so I don’t rip her a new one.
“Carmen, we all should have been told that straight up. Any more secrets we should know about?” Ben splutters, his face now blazing as red as his hair.
I was still caught up in the fallout of the proposal, so I nearly missed Ben’s indignant, but warranted, response. A quick glance around the rest of the team and they’re not hiding how pissed they are at Carmen for keeping that rather pertinent piece of information to herself. It’s shifty as hell, and she knows it, judging by the haughty grimace on her face.
“Anything else we should know?” Tracey snaps, maintaining the killer glare she’s really good at.
“I’m sorry. I was backed into a corner. But honestly, he brought it to us first. You’re right, I should have led with that.”
“I don’t know, you guys, she blindsided you, but you’ve all been working behind my back getting this together.” I wave my hand around at the mock up and the printed glossy promo images in front of us. But then I turn to look at her. “Trace is right, now’s the time to fess up if there’s anything else you’ve been holding out on.”
She shakes her head before explaining. “I fucked up. I knew that walking in, and I am sorry. But they’re raring to go. Seriously, Exposé is prepared to drop a lot of money on this. It will be a success. A huge goddamn success.” She leans forward on her seat, unable to contain her excitement. Her eyes sparkle, hell they practically dazzle, and even though they should probably be full of more apology, she grins at us as she jumps into the rest of her spiel.
“It’s got everything the public wants. Early reviews from the focus groups have already gone viral. Donnie’s running on it, so the only thing we need to decide is if we’re on or not. They’ve got that many people wanting in on the action that it’s likely the network will want to do a follow up show next year. Open up the file called ‘open next,’ Leo.”
Leo, one of our tech guys, opens the file as instructed, and no one says a word as we each read and take in the numbers. The stats are impressive. Big numbers hitting all media and the comments from our socials, the one’s she showcased are full of strong emotion. The majority are basically begging for the pilot to be made into a show.
I tip my head up at her in acknowledgement. Of course, it’s got all the hallmarks of a success, and the timing isn’t coincidental, neither is the title.
“Who have you secured as guests already?” I lounge back on my chair; it squeaks as I lean back and cross my legs. Another sign or a reminder that maybe I should be on edge, not relaxing.
“None of the omegas have agreed yet, but we have the leading scientist of the program on board, we’re waiting on approval from the State.” Leo takes over, rejoining the discussion as one of the key organizers.
“They won’t allow an interview. The man is on death row for his involvement,” Tracey argues, her hand slapping against the table at the same time an angry scoff falling from her lips.
“One man? Please,” I spit venomously, jumping on board with her comment.
“They’ll track the others down. They have to,” Ben spits out like I do, hoping it is the truth.
“Will they?” I drawl sarcastically, rolling my eyes and being unnecessarily dramatic. But it’s not about the drama, it’s about the volume. It’s me keeping it real, keeping the fact that key players from the Regalo ‘research team’ are still missing.
Ben grits his teeth like one of those chittering monkeys in the zoo. It’s truly terrifying, and I love his reaction, but it’s not enough. Of course, everyone else has moved on in the conversation.
“We’ve offered to pay handsomely for his time. Not to him, of course, he doesn’t need the money, but a sizeable donation goes into the coffers for the rehabilitation program,” Leo argues.
“Have they decided on a name for the rehab program yet?” I surprise myself by tracking four different conversations going on at once, impressed I can, given my emotional flip flopping.
