Chapter 56

After leaving hair and makeup, I return to the set and sit in my assigned chair, opposite Miles, who also sits in his.

Around us, the crew mills about, checking the sound and adjusting the lighting. The cameras zoom in and out, the director arguing somewhat about the placement. Miles, it seems, is taller than the director expected.

With everyone else so busy, Miles and I have nothing to do but steal glances at each other. Eventually, I can’t handle the quiet any longer, especially when there is a lot I want to say.

“Thank you,” I start with. “You really stood up for me there.”

“You are welcome,” Miles says, but adds, “Though I’m not sure why it was necessary.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know Amber has been hounding me since my election for an interview. You can’t have thought that she actually wore me down. Did you really think she had been the one to win this interview? Why would you let her take the credit?”

I supposed, if I truly thought about it, I had always been somewhat suspicious. Miles doesn’t seem the type to suddenly give in after months of pestering. In fact, he seems like the opposite – someone who would only dig their heels in further.

But he rejected me. I couldn’t know he would turn around and change his mind.

I wonder if I should have. Is that what Miles is implying now?

“You had a good argument,” Miles says. “You considered my side of it more than just what you needed from me. Honestly, you gave me an offer I’d be an absolute fool to turn down.”

He’s right.

“So why did you discard yourself so easily?” Miles asks.

I wish I had an answer that made sense. Right now, all I can think of is a mix of self-loathing and lack of confidence.

As determined as I was to prove myself, it was still so easy for me to step back and assume that I had failed.

Maybe, like with Garnar, I’m used to others taking the credit and the lead. I’ve always been a supporter. Do I even know how to take the lead?

“This is a cutthroat industry,” Miles says. His gaze is steady on mine, and I can tell that he doesn’t mean the words to be critical. It’s more, he’s giving me a warning. I need to tough up or I’ll get left behind.

Miles saved me this time, but he won’t always be around to stand up for me. I need to start standing on my own two legs.

“You have to stand up for yourself if you want to survive,” Miles says. “You have to push back when others try to knock you down. And they will, Esther. They will…”

His eyes go distant, like he’s traveled to a different time and place.

“The more success you find, the harder they try to cut you,” he says.

I can’t help but ask, “Is that happening to you?”

He refocuses some, returning to the studio with me. “My father casts a wide shadow. I’ve worked hard to make my own place, and I certainly have my own ambitions. Yet I’m easily dismissed as just my father’s son, only here because of my name.”

In a way I could understand. I’m not a successful politician by any means, but even with this job, many people think I was only let through the door because my adopted father is Preston H. Owens.

And maybe they’re right. Maybe it was my name that convinced Hugo to give me a chance in the first place.

“We have to keep working hard,” I say. “So that we can make names for ourselves, outside of our fathers.”

Miles gave me a soft smile. “I’ll see you at the top, then, because I’m not stopping. And I expect you to keep pushing forward too.”

“I will,” I tell him.

God, he’s such an impressive man, so confident and strong. Even when his eyes went distant, his posture remained straight and proud, his voice never wavered.

I admire him, even as I’m slightly jealous. He’s young and optimistic, ready to take on the world and bring it into line with his bidding.

I haven’t felt that encouraged in such a long time. I’m trying to live for myself again now, but it’s difficult after so many years of sacrificing for Garnar.

“You can’t be afraid of success,” Miles says. “You have to go out there and claim it, Esther.”

A fire burns within me. He’s a good speaker too.

Talking to him like this takes some of the edge of my nerves.

“Save some of that for the interview,” I say, teasing.

He laughs. “I promise, I have so much more to say. By the end of this, they’ll have to cut my mic to get me to stop talking.”

No one would ever do that. An exclusive interview with Miles is so desired in the field right now, that he could talk day and night for three days straight and the network would air every second of it.

“I don’t think it will come to that,” I tell him.

“You’re right,” Miles says. “Just give me a signal when you want me to stop talking.”

“What kind of signal?” I ask.

He winks at me. “Blow me a kiss.”

My face burns red. “Miles,” I lower my voice to a sharp whisper. “Not here.”

“No one’s listening,” he says.

I look around in a hurry, but he’s right. No one is paying us any attention. In fact, things are starting to get heated between the director and the set designer. That’s claimed everyone’s focus – except Miles and mine.

Miles watches me closely. “You are going to do great, Esther. Just keep breathing.”

“I am breathing,” I say, though I realized I held my breath a little just then.

“Right. My mistake.”

For my first interview, I’m eternally thankful it’s with Miles. With anyone else, I might lose my nerve, and likely probably fumble my way through. With Miles, for better or worse, I’m comfortable. Even with everything else going on around us, he’s the only other person in the room I really see.

I just hope that mentality holds up when the cameras are rolling.

“I won’t let you fail,” Miles says, and I believe him. His confidence is so overpowering that it must be beginning to wear off onto me.

Lifting my note cards, I go through the questions one more time. There are some good ones, but mostly these questions are soft balls, just to get Miles talking.

As the youngest congressman, people really just want to hear what he has to say.

All I have to do, as an interview, is make sure he’s comfortable enough to continue as candidly as possible.

“Any good questions in there?” Miles asks.

He knows already. One of the terms of this agreement is that he review the questions beforehand.

But he still flashes me a devilish grin. Just the sight of it has me blushing again.

“Are you going to ask if I wear boxers or briefs?” he asks.

“Miles, please…”

Leaning forward, Miles lowers his voice. “You know the answer is neither. I’m not wearing underwear.”

My heart thunders in my chest. My cheeks burn so hot I feel like I’m about to catch fire.

The naked picture he sent me flashes through my mind.

“Alright. Places everyone!” the director calls. “We’re about to get started!”