Page 9 of The Apparent Trap

And yet. I can’t help myself.

“What was that about?”

When he’s turned at the end of the hallway, Carmen finally looks back at me. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“If I’m going to be your producer, you’re going to need to fill me in on places where you’re uncomfortable. I can’t be caught off guard if we have contributors that you can’t function around. My job is to help you succeed.” My voice is firmer than it’s been with her. Maybe I should’ve stood up for my role at some point in the two weeks before this, but there’s something about Lee making my life even more annoying that has me finally standing my ground.

And apparently the change in tone works, because Carmen’s expression shifts to being mildly impressed.

“Alright, then,” she says slowly. “It is too long of a story to get into when we’re like fifteen minutes out from the show starting. But since you’re right that I don’t want to do segments with him, I suppose it’s important that my producer knows why.”

“Okay . . .”

“The thing is . . . Lee Morgan is my dad.”

Chapter 3

Somehow I get through the show without bursting into flames from this shocking piece of information. I might be close, though. I keep turning it over in my head when I should be thinking about wildfires and other important news stories.

He had her when he was what . . . sixteen? Is that possible? I mean, of course it’s possible, but . . . wow.

Why are they so awkward together?

How does nobody else know this in an office that basically runs on gossip?

It’s probably for the best that Georgia’s inaccessible because she’s on the air; explaining this to her would certainly take longer to talk about than a commercial break. All too often, I’ve had to save myself from an emotional spiral caused by having to deal with my own shit alone while Georgia speaks to the nation like an actual adult.

Although, she does get a moment of not being an adult today when she has to sit through the segment with Lee. Darren is asking the questions, and all Georgia has to do is eat at the end, but I can still see the slight look on her face. Even though no one else would notice it, I know on the inside she’s being a petulant child, and I love that for me.

Carmen is off set for Lee’s cooking demo, so I don’t get to see her reaction to it.

But when the show’s over at ten, she stops by my desk.

“Let’s grab a coffee,” Carmen instructs. She doesn’t ask, and I’ve got a ton on my plate for the rest of the day, but this isn’t the time to argue.

We make small talk about the show as we order and wait for our drinks. When they arrive, she goes to sit at a table in the corner, and I follow.

Carmen’s quiet for a minute, and I don’t rush her. Maybe there’s more to this than just filling me in on some detail of her life that I wasn’t aware of.

“Look, I don’t even think corporate knows, to be honest,” she finally says, surprising me by jumping right in.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . it’s not out there anywhere. We have different last names, obviously. He didn’t raise me. I didn’t really even know him . . .” She stops. She blows on her coffee and stares at it. “We’ve been in touch the last few years, but I’ve been in California my whole life, and he left a long time ago, so it was all sort of sporadic. When I got the call from my agent that The Wake Up Show was interested in me, Lee being here was obviously something I thought about.”

“Right,” I reply, not wanting to interject into something clearly so personal from someone who’s never shared a single personal detail about herself before this moment.

“I didn’t tell him at first, because I didn’t think it was that serious, since I’m so young. I thought they just wanted to meet and keep me in mind for later. But when they offered me the trial for the actual job, I decided . . .” She pauses, like she’s suddenly unsure, my second moment today of seeing a small crack in her steady armor. But then she pulls herself back together. “I thought maybe it would be a good bonus to taking the job, where we’d actually get to know each other.”

“And is that . . . not what he wanted?”

She shakes her head. “No, that’s the wrong impression,” she says, as though it’s my error. As though I’m supposed to understand this convoluted bombshell she just dropped on me. And she doesn’t even know it’s about a man I’m already fairly (irrationally) pissed at. “He’s been encouraging. I believe he wants to actually try and be a dad for once.” She pauses again, as though admitting to some weakness is hard to square. “But we don’t really know each other that well. So that’s why what you saw today was . . . a little stunted.”

“Because you don’t want people to know he’s your dad?”

She furrows her brow, as though she hasn’t really allowed herself to think about this yet. “I guess?”

She’s looking at me like I’m going to have some answer. Like suddenly now she wants me to fulfill my role as the quippy wise sidekick.