Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Cece had already cleaned the bathroom and it wasn’t even nine o’clock.
She wanted everything perfect for when Blaise came over. The kitchen was spic and span, the counters wiped, the mugs aligned just so. But because her hands needed something to do while her mind ran ahead of itself, she decided to clean the microwave, too.
Today, she was recording her first podcast episode. It was exactly the kind of distraction she needed to keep from thinking about what lay ahead of her, medically speaking. That was a worry for tomorrow.
Today, she had a new chapter of her life to launch, Real Life: Take Two.
She finished with the microwave and paused at the sink, hands braced on the counter. She took a slow breath, trying to remember what else she needed to do. Peanut, her calico cat, wound around Cece’s feet.
Cece wanted this to go well with everything in her.
Maybe more than she’d realized at its first inception.
She’d planned for it. Talked about it enough that the other Queen Bees had started asking how the show was coming along, as if it were already a thing with listeners and sponsors and a rhythm of its own.
Which, in theory, it would be soon. Hopefully.
In reality, it was still just Cece and her makeshift studio, all of her equipment purchased from and set up according to specs and recs she’d found online. Today, it would become real.
“Today’s a big day, Peanut.”
Peanut chirped at the sound of her name and looked up, undoubtedly hopeful treats were soon to follow.
Cece glanced at the clock again. Blaise would be arriving shortly. That thought ramped up Cece’s nerves, but in a way that was mostly good. She was excited to do this. Excited to break the seal on Real Life: Take Two.
She went to stand in the doorway of her studio, which she’d converted from the second room in her tiny home. Probably meant to be an office or a small guest room, it worked well as a studio space.
She took it in, even though she’d already done that at least half a dozen times that morning.
The room was exactly as she’d set it up.
Desk along one wall, the larger table set up as the main work area, holding her laptop, headphones, and the microphones she’d bought.
All of which she’d spent hours researching before finally clicking the Buy button.
In front of the table were two office chairs, one for her, one for her guest.
On the windowsill was a spider plant she kept forgetting to water, its leaves stubbornly green despite her neglect. She went to get a little cup of water for it, while she was thinking about it.
Peanut followed her back in, jumped up on the guest chair, and lay down to nap.
Cece watered the plant. The space was ready.
But was she?
Cece took the cup back to the kitchen, then returned to the studio and closed the door behind her, a solid click sealing off the rest of the house. Of course she was ready. She’d spent nearly her entire life interviewing people, chasing down stories, getting to the heart of things.
This was just a different format.
She took a seat in front of her laptop and checked the setup again. She’d done it already, but the repetition calmed her. Headphones were plugged in. The levels set, the laptop fully charged.
Today was her second chance to do what she’d always loved doing. And now it was on her own terms.
That realization settled over her with surprising weight.
Cece had spent more years than she could count getting people to talk. Guiding conversations. Asking careful questions and knowing when to stay quiet while someone found their way to an even better answer.
This shouldn’t have felt foreign. And yet, this felt very different.
Maybe because it was so much more personal this time. She wasn’t doing it for a corporation; she was doing it for herself.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. Any second, Blaise would be knocking.
Cece was thrilled Blaise had said yes to this first episode. She was going to be a great first guest, and not just because she was a name people knew.
Cece trusted Blaise’s judgment and loved her intelligence, but she also knew Blaise was ready to share her story. Cece hoped this podcast would help Blaise do that, and maybe even give her publishing ambitions a boost.
She picked up her notebook from the desk and flipped it open. The first page was filled with notes written in her tidy, looping handwriting.
At the top was written Episode One: Blaise Monroe.
Underneath were a few bullet points. Early career. Jay. The scam. What it meant to start over. The decision to tell her story.
Cece traced one line with her finger, then closed the notebook.
This was going to be a fun conversation.
The doorbell rang. Peanut’s head came up.
Cece left the studio and went straight to the front door. She opened it to find Blaise standing there, tote bag over her shoulder, sunglasses perched on her head, makeup and outfit perfect.
“Morning,” Blaise said. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Thanks for being so prompt,” Cece said. “Come on in. You want some coffee?”
“That would be great.”
Cece got them each a cup, then they walked to the studio, and Blaise slowed when Cece pushed the door wider.
Blaise paused in the doorway, taking in the studio with a look that was part appreciation, part nerves.
“Was Peanut my replacement if I didn’t show?” she asked, gesturing to the cat still in the chair.
Cece laughed. “I figured I’d better have a backup.” She set her coffee down by her laptop and scooped Peanut up. “I’ll go put her in her tower.” She carried Peanut out, giving her a little kiss on the head. “Try to behave for a bit, will you?”
Cece came back to find Blaise setting her tote down near the chair Peanut had just vacated. Her mug was on the table. She glanced at the microphones, then at Cece. “Okay. So this is the part where I pretend I’m not thinking about how every word I’m going to say will be made public.”
Cece smiled. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know it’s a little scary, but anything you don’t want released won’t be. That’s the beauty of editing.”
“That’s really good to know,” Blaise said, her tone full of relief.
They settled in beside each other, the routine of it familiar even if the stakes felt new. Cece adjusted one knob on the mixer, then reached for her notebook.
“I’m not going to read from this,” she said, tapping the cover. “You’ve seen the questions. This is just to keep me from wandering.”
Blaise nodded. “I reread them again last night.”
“And?” Cece asked.
“And I made peace with the fact that there are a couple I’m probably going to answer differently than I thought I would when you sent them.”
Cece nodded. “No problem. Whatever you want to say is fine with me.”
Blaise wrapped both hands around her mug and looked down at the steam curling up from it. “I don’t want this to sound rehearsed.”
“I don’t think it will,” Cece said. “Just be yourself.”
Blaise smiled, then took on a more thoughtful expression. “I do want it to be honest, though.”
“So do I,” Cece said. “Just follow my lead, but if you need a break, just give me a sign.”
Blaise took a sip of coffee. “Thanks. Will do.”
“Okay,” Cece said. “Just remember, take whatever time you need to answer. And don’t forget to breathe.”
Blaise exhaled slowly, then set her mug down. “Right.”
Cece slipped on her headphones, waited until Blaise did the same, then checked the levels one last time. Everything was ready.
She rested her fingers on the recorder and pressed the button.
The red light came on.
Cece lifted her gaze to Blaise’s, her voice calm and measured in the way it always was when she was doing exactly what she knew how to do.
“I’m Cece Davenport and I’m sitting here with a very special guest, someone whose name most of you will know: Blaise Monroe.
Welcome to Real Life: Take Two, Blaise.”
“Thank you for having me. It’s a pleasure to be here.”
“You haven’t been in front of a camera in a while, have you, Blaise?”
Blaise shook her head. “No, I haven’t been.
Like most models, when you get to a certain age, the industry isn’t interested in you anymore.
Unlike most models, I retreated instead of reinventing myself.
I was happy to be married, happy to be a mom, happy to live a normal life.
Which I did as best I could. And then…everything changed. ”
Cece gave Blaise a reassuring smile. “Tell me what your life looked like after that happened.”
Blaise didn’t answer right away. She leaned back slightly, eyes unfocused for a second as she accessed those memories. Cece understood. Digging into this wasn’t going to be easy.
When Blaise looked up again, her expression had shifted into something more deliberate. “Before my husband died,” she said. “Or before the money disappeared?”
“Start wherever you want to,” Cece said.
Blaise gave a small nod to herself and took a breath. “That would be the day he passed.”
Cece watched her, listening the way she always had, without interrupting, without trying to get ahead of the story. She let Blaise tell things the way she wanted to so the story unfolded naturally, without feeling forced.
This was why Cece had decided to create this podcast. This was raw and real and deeply touching. Whatever came out of this, however it was received, however far it went, it would be worth it.
And that was all she could ask for.