Dazzled by Jane Harvey-Berrick Page B

No reporter wants to feel second rate and we sure don’t want a Bad Review because of that, do we, people!”
    “No, ma’am!” they chorused, much to Clare’s continuing amusement. I stuffed my fist in my gob to try and stifle the hysteria that threatened to overtake the few senses that were still in working order.
    “The second Red Carpet Key is to Enjoy Yourself! Smile, people! That’s the name of the game! Thirdly, speak slowly and clearly – and never, ever, EVER give ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers! What do we Never Do?”
    “Give ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers,” we parroted back.
    Gayl beamed.
    “And fourthly, Eat Something! You sure don’t want to be Passing Out on the Red Carpet!”
    She droned on. We learned how to ‘pitch it, promote it, tell it and sell it’, and she talked about the importance of not dissing the fans. This was one thing I could really relate to. I remembered when I was 13, waiting for hours outside Ronnie Scott’s jazz club just to get David Sanborn’s autograph – and the disappointment I’d felt when his chauffeur-driven car left by the by the back entrance.
    “As the great Jack Nicholson says, people, ‘it’s easy to forget how meaningful these encounters are for fans’. And we don’t want to let them down. What don’t we want to do?”
    “Let them down,” I muttered, avoiding Clare’s accusing gaze.
    “Now, something else to remember: no matter what you think of your coworkers on a movie or at the office, when you’re asked you say, ‘What a great guy!’ Okay? Let’s practice those Red Carpet Keys in pairs. Miles, why don’t you practice with me?”
    Oh, crap.
    “Now then, you’re on the Red Carpet and I’m An Interviewer, okay?”
    “Yep, got it.”
    “Miles Stephens – can you tell us who dressed you tonight, Miles?”
    “Er… myself. I was by myself… er…”
    She sighed. “Miles, focus! I’m asking you about which designer provided your clothing. I talked about this – point three in the seminar introduction!”
    Oh, great. Public humiliation .
    She huffed loudly and tried again.
    “That’s a fabulous suit, Miles. Where’s it from?”
    “I dunno. From a shop. Er…”
    “No, Miles, no! You must know these things. And if you get brain freeze,” she sighed again, “just say, ‘Oh, they did a great job!’ and move on. Okay? Okay, let’s try again. So how did you get on with your costar, Lilia Purcell?”
    “She’s a great guy… I mean, great girl. She’s great.”
    Gayl’s Daz-white smile slipped entirely. I thought she was going to cry. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Clare, helpless with laughter.
    The rest of the training was excruciating – mostly for Gayl, because I was so bad at it, and the studio had obviously told her that I had to pass this shit. I hoped it was like puppy training classes – no matter how badly behaved your pooch, everyone got a certificate at the end. I really fucking hoped so. At least I hadn’t pissed on the floor. Yet.
    Clare was enjoying herself, quietly winding up the guy she was practicing with. She caught my eye and wrinkled her nose. I smiled back weakly. Yeah, big fucking joke.
    After another gut-churning hour, Gayl released us. She looked slightly frazzled and when she smiled at me, I thought she was going to pull a muscle.
    I was shocked when two of the women attending the media training asked for my autograph. I think it was because Gayl had dropped Lilia’s name a thousand fucking times. Clare looked royally stunned so it was worth it just for that.
    When we finally got out of there, Clare was quiet.
    “I’d better read that contract tonight,” was all she said.
    I recognized the SUV that was waiting, relieved it was Earl who’d be driving us.
    “Hi, Earl. This is my friend, Clare.”
    “Good evening, miss,” he said, smiling at her.
    “Oh, hiya. You’re the one who’s actually got some taste in music – Miles told me about you.”
    Earl grinned at her and tipped his