Amanda Wakes Up

by Alisyn Camerota

  “Right. I know how intelligent and honest and, well, pardon the expression, fair you are. So here I am.” He turned his hands skyward like he was just a humble man, here for some mercy.

  “Hey there, girl!” It was Arthur Dove coming out of the greenroom. “I’m sure glad we could make this happen today. I was telling Mr. Fluke what a warm welcome you gave me yesterday. You know, we don’t like doin’ too many interviews, what with all the liberal gotcha questions, but I told Mr. Fluke FAIR News is different and you’re in good hands with Amanda.”

  “Mr. Dove,” I said, forcing my eyes onto Arthur Dove’s doughy face so I could break the spell of Fluke’s gaze.

  “Please, call me Arthur. I think we’ve reached that point in our relationship.” He smiled at me.

  “Arthur,” I said, though I wouldn’t have called this a relationship. “Those eyewitnesses to voter fraud you told us about yesterday, could you provide some contact info? I’m having a hard time finding any and I’d like to talk to them.”

  “I can do you one better,” he said. “How ’bout we get ’em on your show? Give you a scoop.”

  “Amanda!” Larry yelled down the hall. “Need you back in the studio. You’ve got less than two minutes!”

  I turned back to Fluke. “Sounds like they’re ready for us.” I said, almost cringing when I heard myself use the word “us.”

  “Well, then, let’s go share some secrets of success with the American people,” Fluke said, smiling and extending his arm gallantly, as though we were headed out the door on a romantic date. “Take it easy on me,” he said with a mischievous grin. “I’m a little rusty.”

  My hands were visibly shaking as I slid onto the sofa to Rob’s left. Rob stood up and extended a hearty handshake to Fluke. “Mr. Fluke, nice to see you’ve come out of hiding.”

  Fluke laughed and patted Rob on the back. “Gotta get you back out on the golf course, Lahr.”

  “You must be looking to lose more money,” Rob grinned.

  Oh, great. Leave it to Rob to have a secret bromance with the World’s Most Successful Man.

  Fluke took a seat to Rob’s right and I saw Dove standing in the darkened wings, arms folded, watching.

  “In five, four, three . . .” Larry motioned for Rob to begin reading to Camera 2.

  “Welcome back, everyone. It’s been almost three months since Victor Fluke has given an interview to the press. But this morning, in a Wake Up, USA! exclusive, Mr. Fluke joins us live in studio.”

  “Great to be with you both. It’s a real honor.”

  “So,” Rob started, “you say you want to share your secrets of success with every American. How about you start now? What are they?”

  “It’s very simple,” Fluke said, turning to the camera. “I want every American to be as successful as me, the World’s Most Successful Man. It starts with the can-do spirit of our forefathers, who built this great country, and I don’t want us to surrender that. Because see, we’re Ameri-cans.

  “See, that’s why everyone in the world wants to be American. America is more than a country, it’s a movement and a mind-set, and it’s the only country on the planet that was founded on an idea. The idea of freedom. And we’ve got to protect that and cherish it and keep it for Ameri-cans rather than hand it over to outsiders. Or as I like to call them, Ameri-can’ts.”

  Dove nodded as Fluke spoke, and I couldn’t help noticing how as Fluke’s message grew more populist, his malaprops went missing.

  “The American people are angry at the Ameri-can’ts who take advantage of our generosity. And they’re tired of Washington telling Ameri-cans to share the spoils of our great nation with people who don’t deserve them. My team and I have spent these past months listening to these good folks and, believe me, they’re angry at foreigners taking their jobs and at politicians like Virginia cheating the system.”

  “Mr. Fluke, there’s no evidence Senator Wynn cheated. You’re making accusations that no news outlet has been able to confirm.”

  “That’s because the media’s in the bag for Wynn. But look, I get it, Amanda, you’re a journalist, and you’re an excellent journalist, by the way, and your job is to find the facts.”

  Fluke’s flattery had the unwanted visceral effect of making my body turn ever so slightly in his direction.

  “People want the truth. That’s what my campaign is about. People in this country still believe in American values of hard work, faith, and truth, and when I’m elected, I’m going to share my success with everyone.”

  I looked at Fluke’s strong features, and for the first time, I got it. This guy is magnetic, and what he says is exactly what his supporters want to hear. I want to know the secrets to success, too! And for a moment I forgot it was all founded on a TV commercial.

  “So, Mr. Fluke,” Rob said, “let’s talk about your top issues.”

  “Well, I just watched your terrific interview with that proabortion attorney. Look, I want Planned Parenthood defunded and Roe v. Wade overturned. And when I’m president I’ll install Supreme Court justices who will do that.

  “And wasn’t it interesting?” Fluke went on. “That attorney could not give you a single straight answer about fathers’ rights. She tried to dodge every one of your questions. But you really pressed her, Amanda. And I think you proved that the abortionists want to kill babies at any cost—even when there’s a loving parent begging for them to live. That’s why we’re going to defund down Planned Parenthood.”

  Fluke said everything like it was a fact, plus he made it sound like we were on the same team. I could practically hear Charlie screaming at the TV.

  “If we take away their money, they won’t be able to perform abortions. Right now they’re an abortion factory. And they’re proud of it.”

  I wanted to scream. “Mr. Fluke, those are very incendiary words. It’s not an abortion factory. It’s an abortion provider for women with no other place to go.”

  “Call it what you want, Amanda. Abortion is ninety percent of what they do.”

  Jesus, that is a lot. But, wait, that’s not right! I stared down at my scribbled notes.

  “Abortion is not ninety percent of what they do. It’s three percent.” I said. “That’s right on their website.”

  “Well, I don’t know what they say, but I know a woman who used to work there in Houston and she told me that it’s their main business. She also said that if you can get a fifteen-year-old hooked on abortion early, she’ll come back for four or five more. It becomes their birth control. It’s tragic, really.” Fluke shook his head.

  “Wrap,” Fatima said. “Thirty seconds to break.” Larry’s hands were swirling.

  “Hooked on abortion?” I said. “Mr. Fluke, that doesn’t make sense.”

  “And this is why I’m calling on my devoted followers to picket outside of every clinic until we can shut the organization down for good.”

  “That sounds like a recipe for violence, Mr. Fluke,” I told him.

  “Wrap!” Fatima screamed in my ear. Larry made a bigger circle with his hand.

  “Oh, absolutely not,” Fluke said. “I would hate for there to be any violence. But we do want the freedom to express our position.”

  “Wrap!” Fatima said in our earpieces. “Three seconds to black!!”

  “Thank you, Mr. Fluke, for being here,” Rob said. “More Wake Up in three minutes.”

  “We’re clear!” Larry yelled.

  “Thanks, everyone,” Fluke said to the crew, then stepped off the set. “Real pleasure to be on with you.”

  “Have a good day, y’all,” Arthur Dove said, raising a hand to the crew. “And keep up the good work, Amanda.”

  I narrowed my eyes to watch Fluke’s gait, confident and determined, stride in the darkness toward the studio door, surrounded by his flunkies, then whipped my head toward Rob. “You did it again!”
/>   “What?”

  “You didn’t say anything! You didn’t challenge Fluke on his insane statements!”

  “Yeah,” Rob said, shaking his head. “I don’t love that topic. I don’t think it buys us anything. Abortion over breakfast? Not appetizing.”

  “So you sit it out and let Fluke spout craziness?”

  “I’m sure a lot of viewers feel the way he does.”

  “They might feel that way, but he’s flat fucking wrong! He’s getting his information from some friend of his! Some disgruntled former worker. Abortion is three percent of their services, not ninety!”

  “And where are you getting your information?” Rob asked.

  “I studied it online last night!”

  Rob nodded. “Ah, the Internet. Well, then, it must be right.”

  “Plus, he said women ‘get hooked on abortion’! That’s insane.”

  “He said a worker there told him that,” Rob said.

  “Look,” I said, lowering my voice and leaning toward Rob’s ear, “I brought a friend there once.” I let my words sink in for a few beats so he would know I had firsthand experience. “I assure you, it was not an abortion factory.”

  Rob nodded again, mulling that. “So, your friend’s experience who went there once is more accurate than Fluke’s friend who worked there?”

  Yes, I wanted to say. “Rob, admit it. You didn’t dive in because you didn’t do your homework. You don’t know anything about the topic.”

  “Okay, Amanda,” Rob said, putting his pen down and turning to me with purpose. “You want the facts? Planned Parenthood does 330,000 abortions a year. And you know how many adoption referrals they made last year? 2,300.” Rob exhaled sharply. It seemed like he might say more but he turned back to his laptop.

  I stared at him, trying to figure out what this new, serious Rob had done with my superficial cohost. “How do you know that?” I asked, before wishing I hadn’t.

  Rob sighed and looked straight ahead for a second. “My sister and brother-in-law have been trying to have a kid for years. Now they’re waiting to adopt a baby. You know, there’s just not enough out there. It’s tearing them up.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. It hadn’t occurred to me that this could be personal for Rob. It also hadn’t occurred to me that Rob was a living, breathing human being, with a life outside of the studio and cocktail parties. Until now, I thought he might have been created in a top-of-the-line anchorman factory, bringing well-crafted newsmen to a network near you. Even hearing he had a sister surprised me because I didn’t know newsbots had siblings. I wonder what he knows of my life? Does my life ever cross his mind?

  “And also,” he went on with new energy, “I do think guys get a raw deal with this stuff. We’re the bad guys if we don’t want the kid. We’re the bad guys if we do want the kid. One of my buddies got his girlfriend pregnant; he’s on the hook for the kid now, through college. I don’t know. The whole thing bums me out, to tell you the truth.”

  “So that means you check out for the whole show?”

  “It’s turnoff TV. I told Fatima that. You’re never going to change anyone’s mind on abortion. People’s feelings are too strong. Good thing we had Fluke or this would tank in the ratings.”

  “Great job with Fluke, guys,” Fatima said in our ears. “It’s already getting pickup. Big Politico headline. Fluke—Back with a Vengeance.”

  “Cool,” Rob said with renewed vigor, back to his old instant-gratification self. “Let’s check Facebook.”

  “Let’s not,” I said.

  Too late. Rob was already reading posts on my open laptop. He couldn’t help himself, I realized. He thrived on it.

  “Look at this one,” he said, turning my laptop toward me. “Deborah Culpepper uses a butterfly as her avatar. Isn’t that sweet?” Rob affected a feminine voice to channel Deborah. “‘Shameful! Just shameful, taking the side of the abortionists against Fluke. You know what, Amanda? You’ll answer for this to a higher power than any of this crony bull crap media you work for. To think I liked you at Newschannel 13. Now you are despised. Remember that. Not even God will forgive you.’”

  Rob started tapping at the keyboard. “Deb, kiss my sweet ass.” He hit send.

  “Hey!” I shrieked. “That’s my account!”

  “Oh, look, here’s a tweet from your boy Frank in Fresno. ‘Good job pushing back on that big bobblehead Fluke. Keep it up!’”

  “What, no dangle talk?” I asked.

  “No, he did. He direct messaged me to ask what your shoes smell like. But I took a pass on checking that out.”

  “That crosses the line even for you?”

  “Even I have limits.”

  • • •

  8:55 A.M. Time for the kicker to end the show and send people out the door chuckling. It was all I could do to still speak. The brain burn of coming face-to-face with Fluke had fried my mind.

  “And we leave you with this Catch of the Day. You’ve gotta see this video of two surfers in California.” Rob was in full salesman mode, making it sound like the most thrilling moment ever captured on video. “You can see a guy and a girl sitting on their surfboards, just sort of paddling around, when all of a sudden, holy smokes! Out of nowhere a whale leaps out of the water in a full breach.”

  “They do not look like they were expecting that,” I said, because I had nothing else.

  “No, that was a whale of a surprise. Kinda like what happens on our show every morning. We’ll see you here tomorrow when you Wake Up, USA!”

  “And we’re clear!” Larry yelled.

  Rocco stretched his arms over his head and turned his torso to and fro to work out the kinks of the past three hours. As I gathered my notes, Larry walked over to the sofa, touched my shoulder, and handed me a folded piece of paper on which he’d scribbled a message.

  All’s whale that ends whale.

  I offered him a half smile and tucked it into my folder. I reached down to get my papers and glanced over at Rob, whose face was bent in close to his computer screen.

  “Jackpot!!” he exclaimed, pulling his right fist down like he’d just hit triple cherries on a one-armed bandit.

  “What happened?” I said.

  “My Google Alert for Amanda Gallo is going berserk,” he said.

  “Oh, no,” I said.

  He turned the screen to me. Link after link of websites, lit up in light blue, all with my name on them.

  “Check it out,” Rob said. “You’re everywhere. Here’s the Daily Caller. Wow, look at this! Time.com, Forbes. You’re on fire.”

  My eyes scanned up and down the screen.

  “Victor Fluke Returns to the Airways and Schools Amanda Gallo!”—Breitbart

  “Victor Fluke Shuts Down Leftist Anchor.”—The Blaze

  The next headline was from some website called PoliticalNews:

  “Victor Fluke Is Back on TV and He Just DESTROYED Amanda Gallo for Her Lies in a BRUTAL WAY!” (Watch here)

  The site had captured a freeze-frame of my face midblink and blown up wide, making me look like a clueless cartoon character. The headline was so over the top with outrage that I couldn’t help but reach over Rob and click on it. “FAIR Anchor Amanda Gallo tried to embarrass Victor Fluke on air, but Fluke was in no mood to accept it!” That was the first sentence and I didn’t need to see more. A wave of nausea was already working its way across my stomach.

  “I don’t like this,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” Rob said, like that was preposterous.

  “Be real, Rob,” I said. “It sucks to get so much hate directed at you.”

  “Are you kidding? Any morning show would kill for this kind of buzz. The Today show wishes it were this relevant. It’s fucking awesome.”

  “It’s not fucking awesome,” I said. “And Fluke didn’t school me.”

>   “Trust me,” Rob said, “this is good for the show. We want them talking about us. Benji’s going to love it.”

  Chapter 15

  Split Screen

  “I love it,” Benji said. He was pacing around his office squeezing a stress ball. “I mean, getting Fluke on was a huge coup. We gotta get him to come back as often as possible. He hates the other networks at the moment, so we’re in the perfect position to use the hell out of him. What you did this morning was exactly what I had in mind when I came up with this concept of FAIR News. You got that pro-choice attorney lady, you got that tearjerker dad, and you had the icing on top, Victor Fluke. I mean, does it get any more FAIR than that? No one else is doing this. The entire conversation in one place.”

  “Well, yeah,” I said. “We gave both sides, but we never really got to the bottom of any of it. I mean, Fluke said abortion is ninety percent of what Planned Parenthood does. They say it’s three percent. You know, what’s the truth?”

  “I guess that depends on who you ask,” Benji said.

  “But we should find the answers,” I said.

  “Look,” Benji said, tossing the ball back and forth between his hands. “It’s probably somewhere in the middle. That’s what the other cable news outlets don’t get. Life is not black and white.”

  “Yeah,” I said, agreeing but feeling unsatisfied.

  “Do you know what Good Morning America was doing while you were doing the abortion stuff?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “They were interviewing the castoffs from Dancing with the Stars! I mean, they have given up on news. If people want to know what’s going on in the country, they’re going to have to tune in to us.”

  “Yeah,” I said again, this time with more gusto.

  “Listen, I just got the overnights from yesterday. You want to take a guess at the number we did?”

  I raised my eyebrows, ready for a big surprise.

  “Through the fucking roof. Now, I don’t think we can assume that every day will be like that. I’m sure there was some curiosity sampling. But I’m telling you, Amanda, it’s looking very good. We’re onto something here. Viewers are loving it.”