Rolling

Henry Best is interviewed.

First off, my name isn't Henry Best.

My claim to fame? Single-handedly stopping the June 12th baker street robbery? I knew it was going to happen. I only intervened to gain enough publicity to be recruited by the Shield of Six.

Keeping a hold of what's truth and what's Best has become second nature these last months, but not the name. I don't think I'll ever get used to having to turn and smile whenever someone says “Henry”.

With those timebombs looming over me, I'm a bit tense for my first television interview.

Onstage, two neon green one-seaters have a stare off. The empty beige house-seats creak in envy. A spotlight swings across the chairs and slips into stage right. I raise an arm to shield my eyes.

The makeup artist assigned to me pins down my arm.

"Nervous?" asks the interviewer. Her personal makeup artist dumps so much hairspray on her head, platinum blonde chic will be her permanent style. I almost smirk before I am subjected to the same treatment. I feel my mangy brown hair being sculpted into a slick jet-black identity crisis.

"Very," I say.

"WE ROLL IN TWO MINUTES!" someone hollers from left stage.

The live footage plays back on small monitors downstage. I'm dressed in a way I would never have thought to dress myself. An unbuttoned neon half vest over a half unbuttoned dress shirt over a "Shield of Six" black and blue T-shirt. I wonder to what degree Ms. Frend, the Shield of Six manager, would kill me if I tried to hide the freakish sheen of this vest under the seat cushion.

"Where's the audience?" I ask.

She smiles, pitying me. I bristle.

"Jerry's our audience, hun." She steps on stage to holler over the empty house."Jerry! Give the kid some applause!"

"You got it Cerise," a thin voice answers over the speakers.

The house fills with frantic clapping, interspersed with the occasional cheer or whistle. The sound byte ends.

"We only open the house for big-name heroes. Do you have any questions before we get started?"

"No."

"There's no need to be tense, hun," says Cerise. "I interviewed your teammates earlier today and they all came out alive!"

"I'm sure they all did great." I feel entirely worse about the upcoming interrogation.

"ROLLING IN THIRTY!"

Cerise hightails it on stage.

With super speed, having thirty seconds to get back in my seat would be like giving someone a boat and asking them to cross the kiddie pool. I, however, walk.

"ROLLING IN THREE, TWO, ..."

She takes her seat, crosses her legs, and sits up straight as a needle. I try to sit straighter. The house lights die and the spotlight find me.

"ONE."

“So, tell me. What’s it like being a member of the Shield of Six?”

I stare into the empty audience. The parties, the fans, the photo ops. I hate it. It’s all so fake, and worst of all I have to pretend to be just as fake as them. Why yes, Henry Best loves his new clothes new life new new new What an interesting story about your happy happy family vacation Henry didn’t realize mentioning the anti-registration riots would make you uncomfortable Henry’s so sorry Sorry.

“It’s a dream come true,” I say.