Life in High Def

by Kimberly Cooper Griffin

  They were finishing up two days of on-location shots for the primetime interview that would culminate in the live sit-down portion that they were just about to broadcast. Reilly had turned down many larger names from the throng of journalists that had approached her over the last months, begging for first dibs on her story. But Reilly hadn’t been ready. Now that she was, Tristan was the one she wanted to tell it to. She couldn’t explain the strong connection that she felt toward him. All she knew was that even in his seemingly shallow fashion, he’d always seen through her, exposing who she really was—even when it was just to unleash a childish tantrum on national television, or to force her to come to grips with the knowledge that she had been avoiding talking about the accident, not only because she wanted to preserve Matt Traynor’s memory, but mostly because she was simply too scared to face it. It struck her as ironic that the façade she had always thought Tristan wore was more authentic than anything that she had ever had to offer. Until now.

  The pre-taped segments that they had already filmed were an interview with her parents and a tour of her home and its sprawling grounds. The interview with her was to be a live, in-depth segment that focused on the accident, her time in prison, life since getting out of prison, and, finally, the shocking truth of Reilly’s innocence. It had been months since reports of the recording had been made public, and Reilly would have thought that interest in it would have faded a bit by now. But it hadn’t. She’d done many interviews but had avoided discussing what she could rightfully call the worst time of her life. Now it was time.

  Reilly travelled through a panorama of emotions as she prepared herself for the discussion she was about to have with Tristan and Melinda. She was prepared for them to bring on the tough questions. She’d asked them to. She told them to be direct, that she didn’t want to hide or side-step anything. It was time to lay it all out there. But knowing it was coming didn’t make it any easier, and she was tied up in knots worse than any stage fright she’d ever experienced.

  Reilly tried to distract herself by watching the taped tour of her house that she had given to Tristan and Melinda the day before. The segment was airing right then, and it would segue into the live interview that would begin in just a few minutes. She watched as her on-screen self guided them around her home, surprised at the composure she displayed on the screen. Of course she’d seen herself on film countless times, but this time it was the real her. Still, the on-air Reilly showed no sign of the onslaught of emotions that had battered her from the inside. She studied her own eyes, surprised that they didn’t project her thoughts, imagining what her audience was seeing—an enormous structure without personality, without a heart. Would they translate that into who they thought she was? The house was a showcase, she knew, tasteful and expensively decorated. But it had never reflected who she really was. Until recently, she hadn’t even known who that was herself. With nothing else to measure her by, would the world assume that she was just the same, a shell that held no soul? She’d changed so much over the last several months. She wanted people to know that.

  The pre-taped segment rolled on and she watched as she, Tristan and Melinda entered her kitchen.

  “What a great space,” the on-screen Tristan declared, as the camera moved into the open room. Both of the Reillys agreed—the taped Reilly and the live one. Aside from the bedroom, the kitchen had become one of Reilly’s favorite rooms. Tristan admired the rare Italian granite counter tops, the state of the art appliances, the rich wood inlay of the handmade cabinetry, and the custom wine racks that covered most of one wall. Then there were the new touches, the improvements that Drew had helped her with. A professional cook’s rack held an impressive display of pots and pans. A butcher’s block held a dazzling array of handcrafted Hattori knives. A small rack of potted herbs basked under a complex system of lights that allowed them to thrive indoors. Reilly enjoyed watching Tristan gush. “I’m not sure if you knew this about me, Reilly, but I love to cook. I could really do some damage in here. This has got to be one of your favorite rooms.”

  “I did know that about you, Tristan. Your cooking segments are legendary,” Reilly watched herself reply. “This is one of my favorite places in the house, but probably not for what you think. Unlike you, I can’t cook. This is my girlfriend’s domain. I love to sit right here,” she said, resting a hand on the back of a stool that was tucked under the counter, “and watch her practice her magic.”

  “Speak of the devil,” exclaimed Tristan. Reilly watched the segment play out and couldn’t help but smile when she saw Drew join her on camera. The entire thing had been staged in order to introduce Drew to America as Reilly’s partner, but she still felt a thrill when she saw how good she and Drew looked together. When Reilly watched herself wind her arm around Drew’s waist and kiss her on the cheek on screen, it struck her that she had officially announced who she was to the world. All of the ambiguity that her mother had manufactured around her love life over the years had been officially obliterated in that one gesture. It was a good feeling.

  Reilly watched as they chatted for a few more seconds, closing out the tour, and the screen switched to commercial.

  “Ready for this?” asked the flesh and blood Tristan across from her. He handed the paper he had been studying to a woman who walked by wearing a headset. Reilly admired his cool composure. Of course, he was used to broadcasting live to millions of viewers every day.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” replied Reilly with a nervous laugh. She looked off to the side just in time to see Drew, her mother, Hank, and Cray emerge from the house and walk toward the make-shift set. They would all join the interview at different times during the live filming, and with the guidance of one of the set managers, they stood by to await their cues. Her mother had already taped a segment where they had discussed Growing Up Reilly. At Reilly’s suggestion, it had aired prior to the tour. She thought that it was a good way to get things started. Her father had even made a brief appearance.

  She found Drew’s eyes and she relaxed. Just one look, that lone connection, provided her with the calm she needed.

  “In ten, nine, eight—” the set director intoned, signaling rather than saying the last few numbers of the countdown as the commercial ended and the cameras went live—with a five second delay. The network had a long memory. Reilly didn’t blame them.

  Tristan waited with a dazzling but frozen smile plastered to his face. Melinda sat next to him, calm and composed. When the cameras went live, Tristan did, too, leaning forward in his chair. The energy swelled. Reilly had to give it to him. He knew his job. She wanted it to go well, and she somehow knew that it would. She’d suggested the tour of her house and grounds to provide the lightweight banter that Tristan’s fans loved, but she had insisted that they dispatch with the fluff once they sat down to do the actual interview. He had agreed. For what seemed like the hundredth time, Reilly wished that she had done an interview like this long before the startling new information had been found. Before talking about it had become the huge albatross that it now was. But the opportunity for that had passed. It was time to go on the record.

  “Reilly Ransome, thank you so much for inviting us into your private world today.”

  “It’s a pleasure to have you and Melinda here, Tristan.”

  “You have a beautiful home and we’re grateful that you chose to share it with us during this special on-location segment of The Morning Show.” Reilly returned Tristan’s smile with an expression that she hoped conveyed her welcome but also showed the audience that the interview was a serious event for her. She was nervous.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that you traveled all the way out to California to do it here.”

  “Are you kidding? We wouldn’t have missed it. But now Melinda and I are thinking that we might need to go bi-coastal. It was thirty degrees colder in New York when we left. Spring hasn’t quite hit us yet. I can’t get over all of this sunshine in winter!” Tristan rested his hand on his wife’s leg as his ot
her hand swept the air in front of him, indicating everything around him. Melinda nodded when he looked at her.

  “It would take a lot to get me to leave the city, but I could get used to doing laps in a pool like this. It’s like being on a private tropical island,” agreed Melinda.

  “You’re welcome to visit any time you like.” Reilly was sincere in her offer, and she took in the bamboo and other greenery that surrounded the pool deck. She knew it was lovely and she was happy that her guests appreciated it as much as she did. “To be honest, though, until recently, I never spent very much time here at my house, which has only recently begun to feel like a home.”

  “It’s beautiful, Reilly. What do you mean by saying that it’s only recently felt like home?” asked Tristan.

  “Things changed when I got out of prison. Before then, when I wasn’t working—which wasn’t very often—I spent most of my time going to parties, traveling. I never spent much time at my house. When I was released from prison and I finally got to go home, I realized that the house that I called home wasn’t really a home at all. It had very little of me in it. That’s changed in the last few months. I’m more of a homebody now.”

  “All of the fresh flowers you have throughout your home are fantastic.”

  “Thanks. I love fresh flowers,” agreed Reilly. “But I think it finally became a home when I met Drew.”

  “That is so sweet,” gushed Melinda, leaning forward to touch Reilly’s hand.

  “I’m going to have to ask Reilly to give me some pointers on making my wife swoon,” said Tristan shaking his head. “But that is sweet, Reilly. It’s nice to see you so happy. You are happy, right?”

  “Oh, yes, Tristan. I am very happy.”

  “That is truly wonderful, Reilly. I have to guess that not all of that is due to being in love. Don’t blush. It’s obvious,” said Tristan, smiling at her. Reilly blushed even harder but couldn’t argue. “So, you mentioned prison. I have to ask. How has it been since you’ve been out?”

  “Absolutely surreal.” Reilly’s response was immediate.

  “I can imagine,” said Melinda.

  “How did it feel to find out that you were innocent of the murder that you went to prison for?” asked Tristan.

  “Honestly, it took a while to sink in. And I’ve gone through a lot of emotions through that process. Some of them very surprising,” admitted Reilly. Part of her was self-conscious about talking about what happened as if she were the only one who mattered. “But, it doesn’t change the end result. A man has died. Nothing can change that.”

  “Yes. Of course. There is no doubt that the death is still the most tragic outcome of everything that happened,” said Tristan, and Reilly saw what she was sure was true sadness in his eyes. “But, you suffered, too. You spent four years thinking that you were the one responsible for his death. You went to jail for something that you didn’t do. Being exonerated for that has got to be one of the best things to ever happen to you.”

  “I admit that there is a huge sense of relief, Tristan. I haven’t been exonerated yet, though” explained Reilly.

  “Melinda, can you explain this? You’re the one with the Harvard law degree,” said Tristan, turning to his wife

  “It will take a little while to process the exoneration, which can be a lengthy legal ordeal,” explained Melinda. “It’s a series of administrative actions that officially removes the blame from someone, in this case Reilly, who was previously convicted of this particular crime. But even in a cut-and-dried case like this, it can take several months for the administrative process to complete.”

  “It’s just a matter of time, though,” said Tristan, as if the details were of no concern. It didn’t slip past Reilly that Tristan seemed to have already dismissed Reilly’s guilt in the whole thing. While she was relieved that things had turned out the way they had, Reilly couldn’t help feel that he was at least a little wrong. “Reilly, you found an incriminating audio recording of the night in question, which has led to at least one confession by the real killers. There is also a new witness—the only witness that night—who corroborates your innocence. This witness offers new details regarding what happened on that night four and a half years ago when Matt Traynor was killed.”

  “That’s true. Even now I can barely believe it.” Reilly shook her head.

  “What kind of shock was it for you to learn that Sylvie Simonson, Hollywood entertainment lawyer, admitted to the police that she was the one behind the wheel on that fateful night? She was your girlfriend at the time, is that correct? What a betrayal that must have been!”

  “Shock is an understatement, Tristan,” said Reilly, remembering the disbelief and sense of disconnection she’d felt as she’d listened to that recording. The same feeling had swept through her when she had heard of Sylvie’s confession as soon as she’d been confronted. “The biggest shock, though…” Reilly paused as an unexpected lump took away her ability to speak.

  “Must have been what happened when the police confronted Parker Stevens, is that right?” asked Tristan, making a correct guess at what she had been about to say.

  Reilly cleared her throat and nodded. She was still unable to speak.

  “Parker is still in the hospital after having tried to take her own life, and it looks like she may never regain most of the abilities that were taken away by the bullet that came very close to killing her. She’s regained consciousness, but doctors remain skeptical that she’ll ever leave her hospital bed, let alone speak or even communicate again.”

  Reilly tried to push away the image of Parker lying in her hospital bed, half of her head covered in bandages that couldn’t disguise that a large portion of her face and head were just missing. Tubes and machines had added to the dissonance of the situation, invading Parker’s body, monitoring her vital signs. That was before the doctors had confirmed that the bullet from Parker’s gun had irreversibly destroyed anything that had once been the core of who Parker Stevens really was. Reilly had been grateful that she hadn’t been able to get close enough to talk to her then. And she hadn’t been able to bring herself to go back to see her since. The horror of coming face-to-face with the condition of her formerly beautiful rival was one thing, but the anger that had erupted inside of Reilly as she had stood outside of the room looking in at the severely injured woman was what kept her away. Reilly tried not to feel guilty about the hate that she felt, the sense of vindication. But it was there. She didn’t possess the grace of Lydia Traynor who had been able to grant forgiveness. So Reilly tried to forgive herself instead.

  Tristan continued.

  “Though Sylvie Simonson has implicated Parker Stevens as an accomplice in the accident that killed Matt Traynor, chances are that Ms. Stevens will never see the inside of a courthouse. You seem visibly upset about all of this, Reilly. We were just talking about how happy you must be, but this terrible topic has put a damper on that.”

  Reilly cleared her throat and found that she could speak again. She peered beyond Tristan’s shoulder at her friends. Drew smiled, and Hank gave her a nod of encouragement.

  “Yes. Some of it is very hard to take in,” agreed Reilly.

  “I can imagine,” said Tristan, leaning forward in his chair. Then, leaning back, he turned toward the camera. “We’ll talk more about the evidence that exonerates our guest, Reilly Ransome, when we return from a break. This is Tristan and Melinda Powers of The Morning Show, on location at Miss Ransome’s home in West Hollywood, California. Please stay tuned.”

  The cameramen stepped back from their gear and the television screen switched to a commercial for pet food. Reilly let her shoulders relax.

  “How are you doing? Are you good?” Tristan leaned toward Reilly and checked in with her.

  “Just a little nervous. I didn’t expect to react the way I did.”

  “You would never know by looking at you,” replied Melinda, with a wink and a pat. Reilly scanned the area for Drew, and found her being led toward the set.

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sp; She watched as Drew, Hank, and Cray took a seat in the wide wicker sofa that had been placed next to her chair. The sofa and her chair sat at a slight angle to each other across the table from Tristan and Melinda’s seats. If the boom mics and cameras hadn’t been lurking over their heads and behind their backs, the setting would have seemed cozy. The others patiently endured the placement of the microphones that were clipped to their clothes, and Reilly was glad to see that Drew, who had been a little nervous in the days leading up to the show, seemed to be taking it all in stride. Reilly wasn’t worried about Hank and Cray. They were used to being on camera.

  “Back in ten, nine…” the set director started the countdown as the commercial break ended.

  Tristan sat up and the energy returned in full force. He faced the camera and spoke.

  “Thank you for joining us for this special segment of The Morning Show with Tristan and Melinda Powers. We’re here with Reilly Ransome, at her beautiful home in West Hollywood, California, doing a special on-location interview for The Morning Show. Reilly’s partner, Drew Tamrin, has joined us, as well as Hollywood’s most sought after leading man, Cray Leighton, and their friend Hank Thomas, who many may remember as Dusty’s kid brother from the hit sitcom that launched Reilly’s career, Home Grown. Welcome, Drew, Cray, and Hank.”

  The three murmured their hellos.

  “So, Reilly, all of you were together when the recording was discovered,” stated Tristan.

  “Yes. We were having a small get together to celebrate Thanksgiving here at my house,” said Reilly.

  “That was a day none of us will ever forget,” added Cray.