Page 30 of Prime Time

“Gil, do you think you can find one here in Kerrville?” Andy asked in the voice of a mediator.

“I don’t know. I can try. If not, I’ll have to go to San Antonio.”

Andy ignored Jeff’s muttered cursing.

“Then take the van. While you’re gone, we’ll set up for the first shoot. As soon as you return, we’ll start.”

Eventually everything worked out well, though Andy’s concern was never for the crew, but for the general. Dressed in a suit and tie, he had been ready to start the interviews that morning, as Andy had told him they would. She had felt that the earlier they started, the better. That would give him the afternoons and evenings to rest before the session the following day. The project would take longer doing just one program a day, but she had promised herself, not to mention Lyon, that she would do everything she could to protect the general from fatigue.

She was disappointed that he hadn’t worn his army uniform, but when she tentatively suggested that he might consider it, he became visibly flustered.

“I never ordered another one after I retired. The ones I have are moth-eaten and forty years old. I’d rather not, thanks.”

She was puzzled and let down, but she smiled and touched him on the shoulder. “If you’d rather not, that’s fine. Besides, if you looked any more handsome, I might not be able to keep my mind on the questions.”

Gil returned while they were eating the sandwiches Gracie had fixed them for lunch. While he was setting up, Andy went upstairs to put on her “camera” makeup, pull her hair into its soft bun, and dress in an ivory linen dress, with no jewelry except for pearl earrings.

She received the usual wolf whistles from the crew as she descended the stairs with her notes in her hand. She bowed to them like a grand dame of the theater and did a slow pirouette. As she turned around she came face to face with Lyon, who had been watching her clowning with a face carved of stone and condemning eyes.

“I see that you’re in your element, Ms. Malone.” The judgmental tone of his voice irritated her more than nails on a chalkboard. She took the bait.

“Yes, I am.”

“Good. I’d hate for you to lose your knack.”

“So would I, Mr. Ratliff.”

“You’d never let that happen, would you?”

“Not on your life,” she said defiantly.

His voice dropped considerably. “It’s your life we’re talking about.” He looked at her with uncompromising disapproval, then went to his father to check on him.

General Michael Ratliff was sitting regally in an armchair in the living room. He was wired for sound, though Gil had carefully concealed all the cords. Only the small lavalier mike peeked from behind his necktie. Andy was gratified to see that her crew treated him with the utmost respect.

She took her place at the end of the sofa next to his chair, and allowed Gil to attach her microphone to a discreet spot on her bodice. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lyon watching closely as Gil’s hands fiddled with the fabric over her breast. She’d seen less menacing expressions on the faces of offended despots.

“A little more cheek color,” Jeff said impersonally as he eyed her through his lens. “Why haven’t you taken advantage of the Texas sun, Andy? You look pale.”

“It rained yesterday,” she said absently as Warren scrambled to bring her the makeup kit she had brought from upstairs. Her eyes involuntarily sought out Lyon’s, and for a moment they stared at each other over the equipment that had converted a comfortable living room into a television studio. She forced her eyes away, and the mirror in her hands was shaking as she applied more blusher to her cheeks.

“There’s a glare on General Ratliff’s face,” Jeff said.

Warren adjusted a drape over the window.

“Ooookaaaay, everybody’s lookin’ good. Ready when you are, Andy,” Jeff said. “Gil, got your mike levels?”

“Yep. Sounds good.”

“Okay. Andy?”

“Ready,” she said licking her lips.

“And we’re rollin’.”

She stumbled once during her introductory remarks and they had to start over. What she had done hundreds of times before was now making her incredibly nervous. Actually it wasn’t so incredible. Lyon. If she had not known he was in the room, listening to every word and weighing it, watching each gesture and criticizing it, she would have been perfectly at ease.

Michael Ratliff was an excellent interview subject. He answered her questions expansively, expounding on them without any prodding on her part. Her personal philosophy when it came to interviewing was to get the subject to talk openly, asking him as few questions as possible. She felt it was the subject, not her, the audience wanted to see and hear. Andy Malone was only the usher who escorted the celebrity into their living rooms.

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