Brooklyn Monroe Wants It All by Karen Booth
Chapter Twenty
Alec had prepared for war.The contents of those folders from Robin Ortiz had been crammed into his head. He’d pulled a damn all-nighter before they left for the interview, just like in college. But by the looks of Barry Millner, this wasn’t going to be hand-to-hand combat.
“He’s aged twenty years from the day he was sentenced,” Alec said out of his mouth to Robin as the lighting guy did his adjustments and the guard unshackled Mr. Millner.
“Prison is hard on these guys.”
Alec glanced around the room, which resembled a generic activity room like you might find at a slightly rundown community center. There was gray industrial carpet and tan walls, but there were also halfway decent chairs to sit in and a water cooler in the corner. “This is minimum security lock-up. It’s not San Quentin. I doubt anyone’s getting a shiv in the dining hall.”
Robin peered at him over her reading glasses, which were perched on the edge of her nose. “You still sleep in a cell. And there’s a lot of downtime. Enough to spend ruminating on every mistake you’ve ever made in your life. There’s no way that’s fun.”
“True.” Still, Alec was already rethinking his approach with the interview. Barry looked like a shell of a man, his eyes drawn and tired, the skin of his face hanging down from his jawline. Maybe this was simply what he deserved. He’d stolen money from hardworking people. There had to be some justice, somewhere.
Alec approached him and held out his hand. “Mr. Millner, hi. I’m Alec Trakas from…” he had to stop himself from saying that he was from Good Day USA. “The Sunday News Hour. I’ll be conducting the interview today.”
“I know who you are.” Barry attempted to stand, but he was clearly struggling.
“It’s okay.” Alec stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need to get up.”
“I’ve seen you on TV. My mom loves you.”
Of course.“That’s nice. Thanks.”
Robin strode over to chat with Barry, and Alec took that as his cue to take his seat and consult his notes. The makeup person came over to do a quick touchup, and Alec expressed some quiet gratitude for not having to have pounds of pancake on his face. Luckily, hard-hitting journalism required far less airbrushing.
Robin consulted her phone. “Alec, the department of corrections has given us until two-thirty, so we should probably get going.”
“Yes. I’m ready.” Alec sat a little straighter in his chair, amazed that at his age, something could be this exciting. Or make him this nervous. This was what he’d waited for. This was what he’d wanted. And it felt like he was in the right place. For once.
“Let’s get rolling,” Robin said, stepping back behind the camera.
Alec took a beat to settle himself, then started with his questions. At first, they discussed the nuts and bolts of Barry’s crimes, starting with the brokerage firm he’d started in the early 1980s, and going all the way through the development of the investment scheme, taking money from new investors and paying dividends to those who came before them, creating an illusion that their nest egg was growing by leaps and bounds. Barry answered everything candidly, fondly telling stories of the good life at the height of his success—flying on private jets, buying expensive cars, and partying with famous people while his wife wore priceless jewels around her neck.
“Was that why you did it? Was it greed?” Alec asked.
Barry shrugged and shifted in his chair. “I suppose you could call it that. Although it didn’t start that way. At the beginning, I was just another guy trying to raise a family. It was hard to turn down the money when it came so easily. And it made everyone around me very happy. My wife adored me. My children thought I was the best dad in the world.”
“But it was all an illusion.”
“The feelings weren’t fake. There was genuine affection between all of us.” Barry’s voice wavered for the first time.
Alec sensed that he’d finally crossed over that difficult bridge, where an interview goes from getting to the heart of the facts to getting to the heart of the person. If he could pry some hard emotion out of Barry, he’d earn his spot in the news division. “What was it like to face your wife and kids? When they first found out what had been going on?”
Barry’s entire face fell—gone was the cavalier guy who’d figured out how to game the system. “Worst day of my life. Because I’d tricked them, too. They counted on me and I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain.”
“That must have been very difficult.”
“It was the hardest part of the whole ordeal. Much harder than being locked up.”
“Tell me more about that. Are they mad? Sad? What are their lives like now? Without the money they’d once had?”
Barry grew deathly quiet, and Alec wondered if he might yell for the guard and ask to return to his cell. Alec didn’t have a ton of experience cornering an interview subject like this, but he knew how he would feel if he were in this situation—like a complete failure as a husband and father.
“I think they’ve gone through every emotion in the book. Fear. Betrayal. Disgust. There were days during the trial when I knew my wife didn’t even want to look at me.”
“But she sat in that courtroom every day, didn’t she?”
“She did. She didn’t miss a minute of any of it. She got up every morning and did her hair and got dressed and acted the part of loving wife. She smiled at me from the front row. And then she sat there and listened to the evidence against me and the stories of people whose lives I’d ruined. And of course, she had to face our family and friends and deal with that fallout. I was insulated from it because I was sitting in jail.”
Alec could hardly fathom living through any of this, but just trying to put himself in Barry Millner’s shoes, or those of his wife, left him with a lot to think about. “And what about your kids?”
And that was when it happened—a tear rolled down Barry Millner’s craggy old face and his lower lip started to quiver. Alec hoped like hell the camera was capturing this. “There’s nothing in the world that’s worse than disappointing your children. They’re all grown now. In their thirties and forties. Kids of their own. But I look in their faces and still see the little ones running around our backyard. And I know that I failed at the one thing I couldn’t afford to fail at.” He sniffled and wiped at his nose. “It doesn’t matter how long I live, I don’t think I’ll ever get over the heartache of that. And of course, I’ve missed out on so much. My grandchildren’s birthdays. Holidays. Family gatherings.”
Alec paused a few moments for dramatic effect, but he was also thinking about the parallels between Barry and himself—dreams and hopes, disappointing those you love, and living with regrets. They’d taken dramatically different paths in life, but no one got through it unscathed. “If you could go back in time and talk to your younger self, what would you say?”
“Don’t throw away your chance at happiness just so you can have money or success. If you think there’s even the smallest fraction of a chance that you can find something that will feed your soul or give you a happy heart, pick that instead.”
Whoa.Alec hadn’t quite counted on Barry’s answer hitting quite so close to home. He rose to shake Barry’s hand. He didn’t admire the man. Not at all. But he did respect the fact that he’d been so honest about the lessons he’d learned. And as Alec watched him shuffle away, he knew one thing—the man might be exactly where he belonged, but this was not a happy ending.
“Great job, Alec,” Robin said. “I think we got everything we needed. You’re really a natural.”
“Thanks,” he said, taking in her words and letting them tumble around in his head. “Actually, you know, I’m not really a natural. It’s all practice. It’s being on Good Day USA five days a week for years and years.” It’s doing hundreds and hundreds of interviews about things like twenty exciting new uses for chicken or how to take off the pounds in the new year.
“Whatever works. I’m happy we’ve got you on the team.”
Robin got distracted by her phone and walked away, leaving Alec to wonder about that last part. On the team? What exactly did that mean?
He packed up his things and then tried to help the crew with the same, but they seemed like they were happier doing it themselves. Their way. So Alec walked out to the parking lot to wait, which was unfortunately a depressing exercise. Minimum security or not, they were at a prison after all.
His phone lit up with a text. From Brooklyn. How did it go? He smiled harder than he had in a long time.
Can you talk?Mere seconds later, his phone was ringing. “Hey. Before I tell you about my day, I want to know about yours. How was your appointment at the clinic?” He wanted to be as supportive as humanly possible. And even though he’d had a big life event, nothing matched the importance of her visit to see the doctor.
“The clinic was amazing. Everyone there was wonderful, I am in love with the doctor.”
Alec was surprised how much his heart sang after hearing that things had gone well for her. She deserved a break. “That’s so amazing, Brook. I’m really, really happy for you.”
“Thank you. That’s sweet. Even if it’s a little weird talking to the guy who doesn’t want to be a dad about my visit to the fertility clinic.”
Alec couldn’t stop thinking about what Barry Millner had said about his kids and feeding your soul. “Then think of me as the guy who you can tell anything. The guy who’s still figuring everything out. The guy who cares about you. A lot.” It felt like he’d crammed his heart into a little ball and tried to stuff it through the telephone, but those words were the truth and it was important that Brooklyn hear them.
“Aww. I like that guy. The guy who cares about me.”
“Good. I like him, too.”
“And how did that guy do with his big interview today?”
“We just finished up. It went incredibly well. I made Barry Millner cry.”
Brooklyn gasped. “Seriously? Alec. Your interview might end up being the highest rated segment in the history of the Sunday News Hour. People hate Barry Millner. And they love seeing bad guys cry.”
“I hope that’s true. It definitely felt good to pry that kind of emotion out of him.”
“Was he a creep? He seems like he would be. Either that or evil.”
Alec ran his hand through his hair and looked out over the steely gray institutional building. “This is going to sound really weird, but I mostly felt sorry for him. Or I guess it’s more accurate to say that I’m sorry he was so misguided that he blew up his entire life for money. He’s a walking, talking cautionary tale.”
“I still don’t think I’d want to hang out with him. Invite him to Thanksgiving. Or anything like that.”
“Nope. Me neither.”
“So, when do you get back?”
“We’re driving back to the city tonight. I won’t get home until late.”
“And when is the interview going to run?”
“Two weeks from Sunday. Right before Thanksgiving.”
Brooklyn was quiet for a moment and he wondered if she was thinking what he was thinking, that they’d agreed to let all of this play out to its natural conclusion, and that was still weeks away.
“I’m looking forward to seeing it. I can’t wait to watch your big moment on TV. Are you going to have a party? Have a bunch of people over?”
“God, no. Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s your big moment. Don’t you want to celebrate it with the people who mean the most to you?”
“My brother and his family are in Florida. And I hate the thought of inviting my friends over to celebrate something when I don’t know how it’s actually going to turn out.”
“Well, I’d like to come over and watch it. If you’re up for that.”
“That sounds perfect. Exactly my speed.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?”
“Yes, hmm. I’m not letting you off the hook so easy. Even if I’m the only person who comes over, we are still going to celebrate. A lot.”
A breathy laugh crossed his lips. “What does that mean?”
“I can’t commit to specifics. There might be cake. Balloons perhaps. Streamers. A singing telegram…”
“Brooklyn, no. Not that.”
“Okay. No singing. Except…”
“What?”
“I might have to treat you to my a capella version of When Doves Cry.”
“Only if there’s a dance that goes along with it.”
“Challenge accepted. Luckily, I have two weeks to practice.” She laughed, and even over an imperfect cellphone connection, it was the best sound in the world.
“I’m looking forward to getting back to the city so I can see you.” He hoped he wasn’t overstepping, assuming, or anything else that was ultimately going to prove foolish. Yes, they’d had sex. But they weren’t really together.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you, too.”
He silently let out the breath he’d been holding. “In the meantime, I hope you’ll get to working on that dance.”