Action (DNF)

Chapter 20: Interview

Clay POV

“See you later George.” I smiled as he got out of the car in front of his house. “And sorry that Bad and Skeppy made you stay with me for the night instead of dropping you off home.”
“Don’t worry about it.” The brunette reassured. “If they didn’t do that I wouldn’t have gotten to watch some of your movies.”

“I’ll have to invite you around to watch some more movies at some point.” I hummed. “Maybe some time next week, that is if you aren’t sick of me yet.”
“Not yet,” he responded before giving me a final wave and a ‘bye Clay!’ Then he started walking up the driveway.

He was still wearing the clothes that I’d let him borrow, with the clothes he’d worn yesterday being bundled up in his arms as he pulled his key from his pocket to unlock the door. Maybe I should just forget about the clothes and let him keep them. They did look nice on him and I have more clothes than I need.

As I thought I drove off, my car's engine roared loudly as I left the quiet neighbourhood and began heading back towards London. Even though I’d just spent the morning watching movies I was exhausted, but I had more to do today which would drain even more energy.

There was a nice restaurant in town which is where I am having my next set of interviews, and I was mentally preparing myself to meet up with a dozen different interviewers for different news outlets and blogs. Knowing how they usually went it would all be questions about George, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

I don’t know why my agent agrees to let me do hundreds of different individual interviews when they all just ask the same thing and then write it down in ways that twists the public's opinions about me.

For example: I’ll say something about how I loved filming a scene for one of my movies in Japan because I loved the culture, and the words would somehow end up being twisted to me hating America. Or maybe I said that I preferred authentic Japanese food over the watered down versions that we had where I lived.

My car slowed down at my third red light in a row after I’d been driving for ten minutes. Maybe I should have been watching the time more when we were watching movies so I had more time to get across London and back, but they all seemed so eager to have a five minute interview with me they’d surely be fine waiting another five.

When I finally did get to the restaurant I was escorted into a private function room, one where a new interviewer would come into the room every five minutes to ask some questions about who knows what and leave. The best part is I was allowed free food the entire time that this was going on.

“Is there anything that you’d like to order to eat before I send the first interviewer in?” The organiser asked me, sounding impatient as she watched me. “You are already three minutes late to begin your first interview.”
“I know, I know.” I murmured while taking my time to look over the menu, solely to annoy her.

“Mr Smith.” She spoke firmly. “If you want something to eat tell me now or I am sending in the interviewer and you won’t get the chance to order again.”
“Fine, just get me some fries or whatever to snack on.” I waved her away, earning an annoyed grumble under his breath.

A couple seconds after she walked out of the room a brunette woman walked in and sat opposite me, immediately shoving her hand out for me to shake. “Good afternoon Mr Smith. My name is Matilda Patrick and I am going to be interviewing you today for Neo-hogan, which stands for Northern England's Online Home Of Gossip And Celebrity News.” What a long and pointless acronym.

“Nice to meet you,” I responded awkwardly, taking her hand and shaking it. She had her phone out and had it set up to record our conversations because that was what these interviews were. Thankfully I didn’t have to sit and look pretty for an interview that gets videoed and put online, instead all of my answers just got written down for people to read.

Honestly it made it a lot easier for me, but I didn’t say anything as she said a couple of things which I wasn’t paying attention to. Eventually she gave me a smile. “So, my first question and something that all of our readers have been wondering is about this new boyfriend of yours. Can you tell me about him?”

‘Here it goes’ I grumbled to myself. It was just going to be an hour long onslaught with reporters and interviewers asking questions about George. “He and I aren’t boyfriends actually.” I informed her. “We’re really just friends. Friends who decided to go on one date together, and that’s all for now.”

“Do you plan on doing anything else with him?” She pressed on. “Dating him, marrying him, starting a family with him?”
“That is something that has nothing to do with you. I’ve had one date with him and you and your company have already started planning my entire future with him?” I said, getting annoyed.

“No, I’m… well we’re… not doing that.” This Matilda woman continued, seemingly surprised by my statement. “I was just wondering if we are going to be seeing him at any point in the future.”
“Maybe.” I simply said, refusing to elaborate further and was already bored of this woman.

“Anyway, all over the internet people are talking about how cute he is, in fact there is a ranking of celebrity couples and you both have soared up to number three, how does that make you feel?” She continued to question.
“I’ve already said that we’ve been on one date and are not a couple.” I repeated irritably.

“I know Mr Smith.” She attempted to keep composure. “People have been wondering though, do you plan on involving him in future work? Upcoming movies or other projects?”
A sigh fell from my lips and I buried my head in my hands. “Do you have any questions that are not related to him?” I asked.

“Our questions are all about what the people want to know.” Matilda Patrick calmly explained, which didn’t feel like a decent answer.
“So you have no questions about me being in the UK for the first time? And no questions about my upcoming movie? Nothing at all?”

“Our questions are all about what the people want to know.” She repeated again, word for word and once again reminding me about why I don’t like these types of interviews, despite them being easier.

“Since there is nothing to talk about besides him then you may as well leave because I am not telling you anything personal about him.” I huffed, motioning for her to go. She seemed confused and attempted to ask me another question but I ignored her, and a disgruntled look appeared on her face as she turned to leave.

It was relieving when the room grew quiet, and a minute later the organiser came in. She had obviously been told about what I said, but she didn’t say anything as she was carrying the plate of fries I asked for and told me the next interviewer would be in in a minute.
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