Rise: Populations Crumble, Book 2 by Gandy, A. (animal farm read .TXT) 📗

Brooke shakes her head but doesn’t comment. She already made her disdain for me clear, when I refused to wear the shiny white patent-leather platform heels again this morning. She finally produced a simple gold bootie with delicate embossed leather, which I happily donned. I am so not giving these shoes back.

“Do you like your hair, sweetie?” Giles reaches up and gestures to where my brunette tresses have been twisted into the most intricate braided crown I’ve ever seen. He’s even tucked tiny iridescent crystals into the strands, so that I sparkle with every turn.

“It’s gorgeous, you’ve really outdone yourselves,” I say, giving him an appreciative smile. “It kind of looks like I’m wearing a crown,” I observe, tentatively touching one of the loops with a hidden gem.

He chuckles and softly swats my hand away from his masterpiece. “That’s the idea, sweetie. You only get one chance to make a first impression. Your debut has to scream royalty, down to the last detail.”

“Well, it definitely looks . . . royal,” I agree.

A soft knock at the door grabs all of our attention, and a moment later Patrick enters, stunning in the pin-striped suit. Brooke saunters across the room to him.

“Patrick, darling,” she simpers, making my skin crawl and my hackles rise as she lays a hand on his chest. “I’ve got one final touch for you.”

He gives her a tight smile and removes her hand. His gaze scans the room and quickly lands on me, still seated in the spinning barber’s chair. His eyes turn to molten heat in the way I’ve come to love.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he says, and his eyes travel from my braided crown slowly down to the tips of my golden-booted-toes. Heat suffuses me at his obvious perusal, and I blush.

“Whoo, child, is it hot in here or is it just me?” Giles fans his face with an exaggerated gesture, eyes locked on Patrick.

“Patrick, I’ve got your pocket square,” Brooke snaps, clearly unhappy with his lack of receptiveness to her overly friendly greeting.

That’s right, Brookie. He’s not interested. My possessiveness surprises me, but her blatant interest in Patrick is grating on my nerves.

He turns back to her and allows her to arrange a rich purple satin square into the tiny pocket on his suit jacket. It’s the only pop of color, as he has no tie, and his top shirt button is undone and draws my eye like a magnet.

Once she’s perfected its position, she claps her hands together briskly, all business now that she’s been rebuffed. “It’s time, lovebirds. Candy should be here any minute to start your interview.”

Candy Thomas, the perky blonde news anchor for NAA One. Oh boy.

Patrick slips his arm around my waist, and the contact bolsters me.

He leads me out of the room we’d taken over for interview preparations, and down the short hall to the conference room. The bustle of people is still there, but it’s quieter. Like someone has pulled a wool blanket over the area, stifling the energy from earlier.

The first person turns and sees us approaching, and whips around with his camera. His motion sparks a domino effect, and suddenly the quiet hum is a buzz of anticipation.

“Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Royce!” The first man gestures into the conference room, which is glowing, even in broad daylight, with the number of portable lights they’ve set up.

Patrick gives him a nod, but I’m too busy trying to hold down my breakfast as my nerves spike. I have no desire to be on television, whatsoever. The idea of nearly every person in the entire NAA seeing this later is alarming. There’s only one news station left, so every citizen except the most rural will likely see this within the next twenty-four hours. I swallow, regretting my choice of pastries and hot cocoa for breakfast.

Gripping Patrick’s hand tightly in mine, we are greeted by the tan, intimidatingly tall Candy Thomas. Her smile is wide, and in the excessively-lit room, near-blinding.

“Well, lovebirds, nice of you both to join us!” she says by way of introduction. “Everyone is so thrilled to get a peak at the newlyweds, we almost couldn’t take the anticipation!” She looks us both up and down, before offering a hand to Patrick, and then me, to shake.

Her grip is cool, and light on mine. “Nice to meet you,” I say, and my voice cracks at the end.

She grimaces, and snaps her fingers at the crowd hovering behind us in the doorway. “Get the girl some water, would you? And give us a little space. She’s a nervous wreck.” She gestures vaguely in my direction, and the crowd moves back a few steps before she turns her eagle eye back to us.

“Now, if you two would have a seat, we can go ahead and get started once you’ve had a sip of water.”

A young man in cargo pants comes running into the room with a glass of water. He stops a few feet away from our position on the loveseat, as if he’s scared to come any closer.

Candy rolls her eyes. “They won’t bite you. Now hurry up, we’re behind schedule.” She snaps again, and the man hands me the water before quickly scurrying back out the door.

“Thank you!” I call to his retreating back, but he doesn’t acknowledge me.

“So, this is going to be a pretty light piece. I know you’re new to the camera, so try to focus on me and pretend it’s simply the three of us having a nice Sunday afternoon chat in your living room. It’s not live, so it can be edited if need be. The prime minister’s office requested a get-to-know-you, with a few details about where you’re from, your home life, how you’re liking the resort, and so on. Nothing earth-shattering, so no need to be nervous.”

She smiles again, and I envy her ease in the middle of the chaotic atmosphere. After taking a few sips of my water, Candy gestures and another aid bustles in to