Media Coverage

Flash.

This was it. The brilliant spectacle of erupting spheres of light, closely followed by the whir of a machine imprinting data into an ever-shrinking computer chip. Tonight was an all-around gala. Tonight was the ethereal dream that so many have, but few manage to obtain. Tonight was the night that slips through thousands of aspiring grasps. Tonight was the night. Known by many different aliases, but all being the same thing.

The Academy Awards. The red carpet was laid out, ready to be trampled on by the figureheads and overflowing egos of America. Truly, in the United States of America, an actor had many roles to fulfill. Nowadays, they were required to be the role models for the delinquent youth. They were required to be gods near the living, never to be treated as a normal person again. Perhaps even they were required to take on governmental duties as the popular vote is expended on a celebrity. Such is with the case of Arnold Schwarzeneggar taking house as mayor of California. That step only helped acclimate what was the breaking point between Hollywood and real life. The stars had jumped right out of the screen and into the lives of Americans personally. The media lived for every moment of it, taking pleasure in the destruction of the reputations of stars, feeding like vultures upon every mistake a celebrity would happen to make. Tonight, the media was at an all-you-can-eat buffet, toying with the minds of each “god” that placed even their heel on that crimson-carpet. Some often joke that the red carpet symbolized the blood the media had splattered across the once immaculate canvas with their slicing-and-dicing methods of questioning, trying to find ways to contort the words of the stars into a weapon. While some are discouraged at just these few intimidations Hollywood brought about, others are enthralled with it. They are ecstatic at the thought of a challenge. This mindset made the clean-cut decision of who belonged on Hollywood, and whose blood would be splattered across the already desecrated red carpet.

Christina Mordain was one of the challengers. She was a bright-faced brunette with a cunning smile and a rapid-fire intelligence. Christina had adapted her own form of survival in the butcher-shop the media had manipulated Hollywood into. With it, she had ripped success right out from under the media’s feet. Now the media had all eyes on her. The vultures were circling overhead, hoping tonight they could make their kill upon their tan-complected prey. Christina wasn’t going to give them that chance. Her manager, Julia Harnes, had rehearsed every step of tonight. It was to go off like a Broadway musical.

Christina took her prestigious step out of the black limousine that had escorted her here, and she felt the eyes of every reporter pinpoint on her. She now was targeted. Each journalist just waiting for their big break had locked on Christina while the mass of fans lucky enough to be there this beautiful afternoon stampeded over each other to get the autograph of the rising actress. A short girl, no older than seven and beaming with elatedness, held out her pen and autograph book. It appeared she already gotten her rival actress’ signature. It stood out more than the rest. Slevin always did have a flashy signature. Guess it matches the personality, Christina thought. Christina signed the adorable little girl’s book, gave her a hug, and received seven photo shots from reporters now circling her. The girl squealed happily, and faded away into the crowd. Christina felt good knowing she just made the girl happy, but even better that the media had already gotten nothing useful. The reporters began moving in, and Christina had to make a quick decision to rush away without a comment, or chat and risk having her quotes used against her in headlines and bold print. In a split second, she stood back up and was prepared for the battle she was about to engage in. A reporter approached, seeming a deadly lion in the eyes of Christina. She scanned Christina up and down before making an opening statement.

“And look at the marvelous fashion choice our new-found diva is donning! The ruby color of this dress looks amazing with your skin tone. And the shoes! Simply darling! A gorgeous black, three inch heel adds just the right tone of sophistication to the outfit,” the reporter said to the camera.

“I believe you’ve forgotten one more aspect, darling” Christina stated, flipping her long brown hair back.

A brilliant ruby hung from each ear, carefully placed on a platinum earring. The stones complimented the dress perfectly, and finished the look of sophistication that the reporter had just brought up. The reporter’s eyes stopped and stared at the blood-red gemstones suspended in mid-air next to Christina’s strong but gentle face.

“Stunning. Absolutely stunning. May I ask the question on all of the viewers of my show, ‘Who’s She Wearing?’ minds? Where did you get those beauties?”

This was one of the moments in Christina’s life where she must not answer with the truth. It would give the media something they could use against her. A simple answer would have to suffice, leaving only her and Julia knowing the truth. The truth was that nobody knew where the gems had come from. They had been left on Christina’s changing table after she was filming for a commercial. The offices had no record of anybody leaving or entering the room during filming, but they were not there when Christina had left to begin working. Everybody blew it off as insignificant, though. Nothing to worry about, they all thought.

“Ruby Red Gemstone Trading Company,” Christina lied.

“I see, I see. Now, do you believe you will be walking away with any of those Oscars this evening?” the reporter questioned. Christine noticed all of the other reporters ready to steal quotes from the sidelines. They had positioned themselves in a ring around Christina. Now was the time for the rehearsals Julia had forced upon Christina to come into play. This was one of a reporter’s favorite questions. It was essentially a win-win situation for the reporter, because they would either receive an ambiguous statement to contort however they pleased, or a straightforward quote to use in a story. Therefore, they could use whatever they received in one way or another.

“I’m not sure. I mean, there are a lot of brilliant actors and actresses out there. I believe we all have the same chances of walking away with an Oscar. I’m just hoping I do. And I’m also hoping for the other actors and actresses as well. I’m wishing the best of luck to everyone,” Christina answered, playing off the rehearsed line flawlessly. The actress in her had taken over. She liked to consider it her split personality. The reporter looked disappointing, only receiving the lesser of the two prizes: a quote for the paper with which she couldn’t do anything. Christina had sealed off all ties to avoid any contortion.

“Very generous of you. Now, I know you have a big evening ahead of you, so I’ll let you continue your red carpet walk. I do believe this is your second time?” the reporter questioned, trying a last ditch effort for a final quote. Christina knew exactly how to respond.

“Yes, that is correct.” Plain and simple was the way to go, Christina had decided.

The reporter had a look in her eyes as if she was a miserable failure. Her job as a reporter was to get the story the masses wanted to hear. She had only gotten a cliché quote that she could’ve gotten from any other star standing on the crimson carpet. Tonight was not Christina’s night to have her blood spilled on this carpet. Christina grinned politely, and continued her venture down the red carpet.

I believe this is your second time? The words of the reporter were playing on repeat in her mind…