104. The Interview
July 12, 2008
I’m fifteen minutes late for my interview. Speed-walking through the city blocks, sweat gathering under my blouse, I hurry toward the recording studio. Then I fling open the door and head for the elevator.
“Excuse me, miss, do you have an appointment?” says the receptionist.
“Yes, I’m Candace Skitt, I have a ten o’clock with Rick in the Morning.” I’m out of breath.
“Okey-dokey.” She ticks something off on a clipboard. “Thank you!” Her smile is maddeningly bright.
“Right.” So I head for the elevator, again, and I say “fourteen” to the operator, and I stumble into the studio more than twenty minutes late.
Rick is sitting at a table, his signature hairdo as crazy, wiry, and balding as ever. He has a cup of coffee next to him. Steam rises from the top of the brown liquid. A couple of technicians sit in the room. One of them is eating Good n Plentys, and the whole cramped studio smells of licorice. Read the rest of this entry »
