Chapter 14

Monday, I was back in New York. This time, it was for the live taping of The World According to Harlan Nash. Considering it was almost as big as Late Night, I was surprised that the studio was much smaller. I’d always pictured a few hundred people in the audience, after hearing the response when they laughed or clapped on TV. Instead, the place held maybe three dozen people tops, which was probably why the cameras never pointed at the audience directly.

I’d taken a late afternoon flight, which got me into the city just in time for the show. I didn’t even have time to go by the hotel, and found my way into the studio carrying my backpack and soft clothes garment bag. I was rumpled and wrinkled from being on the flight, and the wardrobe people looked like they were going to have a conniption fit until they realized I’d brought other clothes for my TV appearance. I quickly changed into them.

Warren and I had spent some time going over what my “persona” would be, as far as clothing went. I’d fought hard against any kind of suit since I had a rock and roll image to maintain. We’d settled on nice jeans, a pair of work boots, and a light brown leather jacket, along with a few accessories that said ‘casual young rocker’ without being too punk. I felt I looked a little too much like half the popular country singers out there, but everyone else thought the look was okay, so I went along with it.

I found a place to stash my stuff, and they directed me to an area just off stage. The show was already in progress, and I could hear that it was some piece about the economy with one of their ‘reporters,’ where the comedian who was acting as the reporter kept saying more and more insane stuff. Normally, I found this part funny, but I was in my own head again, like I was before everything like this, and wasn’t really paying attention.

Suddenly, a person stepped up next to me, also watching the show. I turned to find Alina, who looked like a whole different person than she did the night of the party.

“Hey,” I said. “How are you doing?”

She gave me a sad little smile and said, “Fine, I suppose. As well as can be expected.”

“Yeah. This whole thing sucks,” I agreed and went back to watching the show.

“Aren’t you nervous?” she asked, still looking at me. “I’m always nervous, thinking about how many people will be watching, yet you seem so calm.”

“Sure, I’m nervous, but I just go into ‘show mode’ when I step out there, and everything’ll be fine. It’s not that much different than being on stage in front of thousands of people. Just gotta stay focused on what you’re doing and plow through, you know?”

“Huh,” she said, still looking at me, nodding slowly.

Before she could say anything else, these two people I didn’t know came up to us.

“We have a list of approved topics we would like for you to stick to,” the taller of the two women said. “There will be no discussion of Alina’s past indiscretions, and you are to avoid conjecture of her being under the influence of any substances while at the party. You are allowed to discuss her state only as she was having difficulty and move on to something other than that.”

So these were the handlers I’d heard about. Alina looked at me almost apologetically as they handed me a bullet-pointed list.

“No problem,” I said, trying to sound as non-confrontational as possible.

While this was weird, especially considering there was video and pictures showing Alina bombed out of her mind, and our entire story hinged on the fact that Alina was incapable of standing on her own, let alone fighting off the two guys, it seemed impossible that drug use wouldn’t come up. Us dodging or refusing to answer questions Harlan or anyone else asked about that would be the same as all but confirming what they were trying to bury. It seemed counterproductive to me.

But it wasn’t like I could offend them. This was my best shot at shutting down GLR’s play, which I wouldn’t be able to do if they pulled her out of doing the interview at the last moment.

The woman seemed to accept my acknowledgement and gave me a nod, and then a hard look to Alina, before walking away.

“Sorry about that,” Alina said, half embarrassed.

“It’s okay. They’re just trying to protect you.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking away from me and back to the stage, a strange expression on her face.

It wasn’t hard to see that this girl had some real problems, and that they weren’t all related to drugs. Before we could talk about anything else, though, Harlan was introducing us, and it was time to go out on the stage.

“You’ve probably all seen the headlines by now of the story that broke on Spilled Tea and has started making the rounds through larger publications about supermodel Alina Petrova and her harrowing experience at a party during New York’s Music Week last weekend. Well, we have Alina and the other person mentioned in that story, Charlie Nelson, last season’s winner of The Stage, here with us tonight to explain how what you’ve read in the papers isn’t exactly true. So, please welcome Alina Petrova and Charlie Nelson,” he said, standing slightly and clapping along with the rest of the audience as we came out.

As with Late Night, most of this had been prearranged and choreographed with the producers, who’d sent a long email the day before with the details, including who was to sit where. We walked out on stage, both waving a little to the applauding studio audience, and Alina took the seat closest to Harlan, while I sat in the chair further away from him.

“Thank you both for coming. I know you’ve been dealing with a lot since the article came out, and I appreciate you making time to talk with me. Why don’t you tell me what happened from your point of view.”

“Well, Harlan,” Alina said, much more confident than she’d been off stage. “I will be honest; a lot of that night is a blur to me. I can tell you this; the allegations that Charlie assaulted me that night are completely false. He was, in fact, never alone with me, and his management was in touch with mine and they asked him to help me get back to my hotel. He was either at the party, in the cab with the cab driver, or with the doorman from the hotel and one of my representatives the entire time. One of the main reasons I wanted to come here was to publicly thank Charlie for helping me out of a bad situation. I will say, it is very sad that a Good Samaritan is slandered in the name of selling clicks or papers, instead of being praised for his actions. People wonder why society feels worse these days, and I would say this is one of the reasons.”

“But you were drunk too, right, Charlie?”

“I wasn’t,” I said. “I actually don’t drink. Ever. My father ... he had issues with alcohol, and it tore my family apart. I’ve seen firsthand what that lifestyle can do to people, and I steer clear of it.”

“Several sources said you smelled strongly of alcohol, though.”

“Earlier in the night, I had a run-in with a somewhat aggressive person who was pretty heavily under the influence. I won’t name names, but she didn’t take kindly to me turning down her offer to go somewhere for ‘more fun.’ She threw her drink on me and stormed off. That was why I was coming out of the bathroom when I saw Alina and the guys with her. I’d been trying to clean the drink off me.”

“See, you tell us the gossip isn’t real, and then hint at gossip that is, and won’t tell us who it is. Can you give us a little hint?”