Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One (19 page)

They both
nodded. Then Jimmy laughed. “You should get all Steven Seagal, grab
a shotgun and head to their hideout. Kick some serious ass now that
you’re back from the dead.”

We all laughed.
That was a good one.

The clicking of
heels on the studio floor interrupted our mirth. Cathy came onto
the Morning Show’s mini set with a smile on her anxious face. I
stood up out of my chair as she approached, which would have made
my grandpa proud.

“All right
jokers, what’s so funny?” she asked, eyeing all three of us
askance.

“Nothing,” I
started to say.

Jimmy
interrupted. “We were telling Joe he should re-enact the final
scene from
Hard to
Kill
.”

“Yeah,” Kurt
laughed, making a hokey kung fu gesture with his skinny arms. “Go
all cowboy ending on those fools.”

Cathy stared at
her cameramen as they laughed amongst themselves. She turned to me
and quirked her eyebrow questioningly.

I shrugged.

A few minutes
later we were seated opposite each other. Jimmy and Kurt continued
to test the lighting settings, now that Cathy was in frame it made
things a bit more complicated. She sat primly, making innocuous
small talk while flipping through her tiny note cards.

There was a
small continual thrumming sensation in the air. Kinda like when
you’re at the symphony and all the string instruments are tuning
up? When the big bass cello starts running scales and there’s a
sense of tension and presence in the air?

It felt like
that. Only it wasn’t noise. It was a pressure, causing the tingling
at the back of my neck to flare up.

But it was
different. Not staccato or pulsing. Just a steady thrum.

“Are you
okay?”
I blinked, coming out of my reverie. Cathy was looking up from her
note cards, her dark eyes wide. And tired.

“Me?” I coughed
into my elbow once, trying to cover my awkward moment. “Yeah. All
good. You?”

She pursed her
lips, dimples forming as her eyes glancing back to her notes.

“Cathy?” I
pressed, eyeing the cameramen askance. They were arguing about
white balance issues or something. Neither of them paying
attention. I leaned forward. “What’s the matter?”

She blinked a
few times, looking down at her notes.

“Cathy?”

“My boss is an
asshole,” she said quietly but with conviction. Cathy raised her
gaze up and met mine, her eyes strained and tense. I knew the look
well.
“So’s mine,” I replied with my small smile. “That’s why they’re
bosses.”

“Well my boss
just spent the last half hour giving me hell for this
interview.”
“Why? I was getting requests from CTV before you ambushed me in the
hospital.”

“I did not
ambush …” Cathy glared at me briefly, her hands gripping her cards
tight. “He wants this to be less clandestine and more
traditional.”

My stomach
sank. “Oh.” The thrumming increased in tension. “What did you
say?”

Her eyes
dropped again. “I told him that your safety was an issue and that
you were uncomfortable with being too exposed by the media.” The
thrumming decreased again as I released a breath I didn’t realize
I’d been holding. Cathy grimaced. “And then I reminded him that the
only reason you’re here at all was because of me. He
really
didn’t like that.”

“I bet.”

She
glanced to the side, Jimmy and Kurt were still deep in their own
conversation. “He said a lot of things that were bullshit, but one
that was true. He reminded me just how many young media students
would
love
to be the
weathergirl on Winnipeg’s highest rated newscast.” Her face fell.
“And he’s right, I can’t coast on this gig forever. But if I don’t
get some quality interviews and stories on my resume I’m not going
to be able to move into another position. I need this,
Joe.”

I leaned back
in my chair, giving it some thought. I glanced at the lighting set
up from the safety of my shadows.

“But,”
she broke in, reaching over to grab my hand like she had at
Sal’s
. “I don’t want you to do
anything you’re not comfortable with. Your safety
is
a concern, as is the health of
your mother. And your right to privacy.”

“So what are
you saying?”

Cathy leaned
back again, looking as uncertain as I had ever seen her.

“We’re ready if
you are,” Jimmy broke in from behind his camera. Kurt stood off to
one side, earphones on his head and a long boom microphone in his
hands.

Cathy’s smile
was back in full force. “Sounds great, Jimmy. Thanks.” She leaned
back in her chair, extending her smile to me. Suddenly all TV
presence and brimming with confidence.

But her eyes
were still worried.

“Just try to
open up, Joe.” Cathy said, motioning with her hands. “I’m going to
ask you some questions and I want you to be as honest as possible.
Don’t be afraid to show some emotion or elaborate.”

Mr. Cooper’s TV
class came back to me suddenly. “Speak in precise, concise
sentences as often as possible. Speak in sound bites. Don’t ramble
on forever, but be passionate about what you’re saying.”

Cathy’s smile
softened, becoming genuine. “You missed your calling, Joe.”

I missed a lot
of things.

Chapter
16

Being
interviewed is awkward.

You get asked a
lot of questions that are very similar to each other. It’s a
technique used in media all the time to try and get a deeper more
honest answer out of someone who’s trying to forward an agenda at
the expense of the facts. Very often in media scrums when a
politician is making a presentation at a new facility opening, or
during an election season said politician will have one or two
sound bites that they really want to get across and will use them
in the answer to every question. Which makes the whole scrum a
complete waste of time as the media asks the same question in
several different ways only to get the same answer back without
much of variance.

One day I’ll
work in media and I’ll air the unedited version of a political
media scrum on the six o’clock news and make both sides look like
fools.

And then I’d
get fired.

But it’d be
worth it.

In a case like
this, Cathy was just covering all her bases. Not in an attempt to
embarrass me but to try and get the best possible response to
sensitive questions.

“How long have
you been working nightclub security?”

“Ten years, off
and on.”

“So in ten
years of working in nightclubs have you ever been involved in an
incident that violent before?”

“Most nights
are very calm. It’s my job to keep things that way before trouble
escalates.”

“But in all the
time you’ve been working clubs, ten years you said – you’ve never
seen a night like that before?”

“No. That’s the
first night I’ve been shot.”

See what I
mean?

Cathy was very
smooth. Her face a calm pool, giving as much sympathy and interest
as one could possibly convey. It’s a very fine line to walk
especially on camera. When you’re tight in frame it’s very easy to
over emote and come across as phony. At the same time if you hold
back too much its equally easy to become robotic.

Riding that
tight line of professional integrity and sympathy is incredibly
difficult. It’s the old actor’s saying – if you can fake sincerity,
you’ve got it made.

It became easy
after the first few minutes to open up some. Likely because of our
history together more than anything she was doing to coerce answers
out of me. I always remember meeting Cathy that first week of
college where despite being a big and clumsy oaf we hit it off
right away. Academically I mean. We were both interested in TV as a
medium and its ability to convey truth as well as lies, both of
which we easily misconstrued by the viewing public by the smallest
changes in presentation. We found other middle ground after that as
well, though not in every direction I might have liked.

Like any great
puzzle, media is about presenting facts and ideas in the correct
light and order. It’s up to the individual to interpret the facts
as such and make their own conclusions. But given time constraints
in TV, it’s very easy for messages to be lost and become enmeshed
in hyperbole and rhetoric.

Which is
something I was desperately trying to avoid and which Cathy’s boss
desperately wanted from me.

So we danced.
Cathy would ask hard questions in different ways and I would try to
give concise answers that suited my own agenda.

To her credit,
she gave me ample opportunity to express my gratitude to the
members of the paramedic and hospital staff who had taken care of
me. Keeping me going until getting paddled back to life. I was
strangely unemotional talking about that and was thankfully given
another chance to express the feelings. I didn’t produce tears or
anything, but I wanted to make certain my gratitude was heartfelt.
Again it’s easy to come off as robotic, especially when you’re
going in as anonymously as possible.

We went
back and forth with questions for a good half an hour. Dealing with
the basics of the incident, how things had degenerated as quickly
as they had and then the aftermath. Cathy prodded at me several
times along her preferred line of questioning regarding the
“inefficiencies inherent in the Health Authority” and “the obvious
lack of genuine interest in investigating the catastrophic
malfunctions.” I obliged her by agreeing that I would like to see
an internal investigation made public, but turned it back to how
grateful I was to the staff and nurses for all their support during
my time of need.

Blah. Blah.
Blah.

Media
pablum.

But if it
helped her out, I would play along.

Besides.

I missed
her.

We were
friends. Maybe I wanted more than that. I don’t know anymore. It
was too damned long ago to know for sure.

Since things
changed in my life and I found myself dealing with real grown up
issues, more or less on my own I lost the ability to connect with
my fellow students. Dealing with the sort of things that most of my
peers weren’t able to understand or relate to.

Most of that
was me shunning their help I’m sure. Being all bitter, stubborn and
more than a little embarrassed.

It felt good to
be able to talk to someone. Even if I wasn’t being completely
forthcoming.

Cathy checked
her notecards for a moment, shuffling between them with
pursed-lips-dimples all abloom.

I waited
patiently, that faint thrumming sensation still resonating in my
head.

“I only have a
few more questions, Joe. Thank you for doing this.”
I shrugged. “Are you getting what you need?”

Off to the side
I saw Jimmy poke his head out from behind the camera and give me a
thumbs up. “Getting some great visuals. The whole darkness vibe
gives your answers even more gravity.”

“Absolutely,
Joe. Some very compelling stuff.” Cathy shuffled a bit more through
her cards before settling on one. She stared at it for a
moment.

“You have
pensive face,” I told her.

Her eyes
flicked up to me. “Do I?”

“Yeah.”
“Oh.”

I nodded to her
cards. “Is that where you ask me about my childhood? All my deep
dark secrets?”

Cathy shook her
head slightly.

I motioned her
forward. “Then bring it on. I still have one more stop this
afternoon.”

Cathy set her
eyes firmly and checked with Jimmy. He gave the “still rolling”
sign. She took a deep breath.

“How do you
feel about Keimac Cleghorn being released from custody?”

Why did that
name ring a bell?

“Who?”

“Keimac
Cleghorn? The man who shot you?”

Oh yeah.
Right.

Wait, what?

I sat up
straight in my seat making my bruised abdomen add emphasis to my
voice. “What?” I snarled.

Cathy visibly
flinched. Then regained her TV face. “How do you feel about Keimac
Cleghorn being released from custody?”

I blinked
rapidly. Distantly I could feel the thrumming in the air increase
slightly, but my mind was too busy rolling that simple question
around in my head again to pay it any heed.

“What …
When?”

Cathy’s
expression remained impassive. “Keimac Cleghorn was released this
morning on his own recognizance after prosecutors were able to
confirm that police on scene did not follow proper procedures upon
detaining him.”

“He … Dozens of
people saw him shoot me.”