GRANT MARSDEN TO MAKE FIRST PUBLIC APPEARANCE SINCE HIS LOSS; RUMORED TO BE DELIVERING IMPORTANT MESSAGE ON SAFETY FOR ALL FEMALES
—American Gazette
“Welcome back. For those of you just joining in, tonight’s guest is Mr. Grant Marsden. Mr. Marsden, you recently lost your young wife. How are you feeling?”
Frustrated, Grant thought. He would feel happy when she finally died.
“I feel a lot of pain,” Grant said. “Some anger too.”
“Absolutely,” Greg Finnegan replied.
The Greg Finnegan Show. Grant couldn’t believe this was his first television appearance. People swore by Greg, citing him as the most honest man in America. He gave the people their news Monday through Friday at seven P.M. Grant thought the man was a phony. Nobody is honest all the time. Sitting in the studio in another suit and tie, Grant was trying his hardest to play the grieving widower. Greg Finnegan wasn’t doing much to help that portrayal by asking personal questions Grant wanted only to give impersonal responses to.
Grant smoothed out his tie; it was made of fine silk. The suit was from his collection and at least the fabric was to his standards. His hair was parted down the middle and gelled back. Grant made sure to flash his smile whenever possible. He was the new poster boy for America.
“Do you think you’ll ever find love again?” Greg asked.
This was killing Grant. Love was a myth and not something Grant ever bothered trying to obtain. But that wasn’t a response he could provide. He had to phrase his answer in a way that would allow him to keep the respect of the male population and the admiration of the females. It was like a logic puzzle.
“All relationships are unique,” Grant said. “I look forward to the day I am ready to start anew.”
Grant knew this interview was some form of a test. He was surprised none of the questions had been provided beforehand with the answers drafted by the capital. Now Grant had to figure out what the test was for.
“Well, if there are any young ladies out there watching I’m sure they’re hoping your next choice is them,” Greg said.
Grant gave a small smile and a laugh.
“Is there anything else you would like the public to know?” Greg asked.
“Yes.” Grant turned his head so he could talk directly into the camera. “I want to speak to the young ladies out there who are watching. This was a tragedy. It is a dangerous world out there for girls. Remember to listen to your fathers and, when the time comes, your husbands. That’s the only way to protect yourself.”
“Wonderful advice from a humble man,” Greg said. “Thanks to all our viewers for tuning in. See you tomorrow.”
“Cut,” the director yelled.
Greg Finnegan pulled off his microphone. Grant did the same.
“This will air in a few hours,” Greg said. “Your story is very compelling. Poor . . . Mina, was it?”
“The focus isn’t on her death, it’s on me and my recovery,” Grant said, ignoring Greg’s question.
“Which, I might add, is remarkable,” Greg said. “Has it even been forty-eight hours?”
“Her funeral is tomorrow,” Grant said. “I am doing remarkably well.”
He didn’t appreciate Greg’s undertone.
“I’ll be in attendance,” Greg said. His steely eyes belied his famous smile. “Don’t worry. Everything will be edited and cut together. You’ll show just the right balance of charm and mourning.”
Grant loosened his tie, stood up, and walked off the stage. He hoped this media parade wouldn’t last too long. There were other, more pressing matters that required his attention.