Who: Cotton Weary purecotton & Carol Danvers callmemarvel What: An Interview When: Friday, Oct. 30, midday Where: Woman Magazine Rating: Audience Discretion is Advised Warnings: Cotton Weary has had a very hard life which includes incidences of false imprisonment, rape, violence, and child abuse. He might reference any of these things during the course of this log which could be counted as a trigger for some people. Status: Completed/Partner Thread
~*~
Magazine interviews were the easiest for Cotton. He put on a decent suit, not necessarily his best, and showed up at the designated meeting place. They arranged photoshoots later if they wanted them. No cameras were allowed and recording devices were also off the table. Cotton had an issue with being taped or recorded against his will. Reporters were always very understanding of his requests because they were interested in the whole truth. They'd do anything for the whole truth.
Including catering to the eccentricities of a pseudo-famous reality television star like Cotton Weary.
He drove himself to Woman Magazine. His GPS did not want to take him there directly so he felt good about having left two hours early. It meant he was on time even if he wasn't early. There was a good reason why he liked being early for any interview: if he got a bad feeling from the reporter, he could pull out easy by saying he couldn't make it to the location on time. Excuses could be made if he had enough time ahead to plan. Cotton couldn't get out of this one. It was too late at this stage.
Giving his best public smile, Cotton introduced himself to the desk guard who said he'd page the reporter. He was welcomed to wait in their very plush lobby without a by-your-leave; it took everything in him not to find the nearest corner to sit in and bury himself in his phone. Oddly, Cotton wished he'd thought to bring Sid with him. This interview was entirely about him. They wanted to flatter him by talking about how well the female population responded to his show, his story, him.
Sid didn't have a dog in this fight.
Cotton stood his ground, smile fixed firmly, until it seemed someone was coming to attend to him.
'Showtime.'
"Hi there. Cotton Weary. I believe we have an interview?"
~*~
Most of the time Carol wasn’t a reporter for the magazine. She had her occasional pieces printed, most of them were factual articles or exposé pieces. She set the terms, she was the editor after all. When Tracy set her up at this place, helping Carol get some distance from Michael’s death and the cover up, she figured it wouldn’t be too bad. She’d do a little here and there, get her fingers back into the freelance pool and carry on with her life.
She did not expect that she’d have a group of over enthusiastic journalists all vying to interview a reality star so that they could just get some time alone with the man. Carol’s appreciation for professionalism outweighed her desire to not do the interview which meant she was scheduling the meeting and gearing up to meet Mr Weary.
“Hi there, Carol Danvers.” Still, she made a point of presenting herself correctly, smart business suit, the impractical but fairly comfortable shoes, no coffee or bagel stains for once in her life it seemed. “Sorry for the hold up, I had to remind my staff this isn’t a high school.” Carol wouldn’t let the magazine fall under some kind of scrutiny because a bunch of hormonal women couldn’t remember to show some respect.
“Why don’t we take this into the meeting room.” At least then there’d be some privacy, and Carol already had her notebooks set up -the lack of recording equipment made things difficult in reporting, and she was sure it would lead to rife inaccuracies with some people, thankfully she still had her shorthand to at least work with. Since fewer and fewer of the new hires were coming away with it now.
The meeting room had a nice open window, a view of the court at the side of the building, and out onto the open road, thankfully the blinds were already down on the glass partition to the open office space so they wouldn’t have to worry about peeping in from employees. “Can I get you something to drink? Eat? We have a twice daily run to the pastry store in town, I’m sure I could accost some before we start?”
~*~
"Good to meet you, Ms. Danvers. Thank you. It was no wait at all. Your staff has been very courteous."
Cotton would have said the same if she'd had him standing in the lobby for two hours. He had manners even if he hadn't been raised in an environment where one would expect him to have cultivated them. Presentation was one of the most important parts of being a public figure. Gail Weathers had taught him some of that before he'd gotten in deep with his legal council. The lawyers? They'd been the ones to really teach Cotton what it meant to put on a great face in public because the face the cameras caught? That was the one the jury remembered.
He hadn't wanted to die so he'd learned how to smile sincerely enough to fool St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.
Taking a seat the table, Cotton thought on who had eyeballed him since he'd arrived at the magazine. It was a classy place. He didn't think Danvers had to worry too much about the quality of her staff or their ability to treat a celebrity guest -if he could even be called that these days- though what did he know? He hadn't been in a position to hear anything they were saying to one another. He wasn't the only person to learn how to lie with a smile; appearances could be very deceiving.
"Water would be fine. I have a personal trainer who would kill me if I took advantage of the pastry offer. Sugar is a weakness of mine. If you ever wonder how true that is? Feel free to look at the 'Who has the worst beach body?' article which will undoubtedly be gracing the cover of some tabloid in your supermarket line. I'm in there. They show the same shot of me from five years ago. It's always enough to spur me on to put down the danish and pick up the pace on my exercise routine."
Cotton hadn't always been as put together. A time had come when he'd let himself get caught up in the fame. Drugs had never been his scene, but alcohol and women? He'd drowned himself in both of those while making damn sure both of his favorite vices were aged appropriately. It had been close to being a nightmare for his publicist because of the weight he'd gained. He'd pointed out how he wasn't quite as much of a puffy motherfucker as Vince Vaughn, but that had only gotten him a longer session with his trainer.
~*~
With a small smile, Carol gave an indication of her being right back, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge in the small staff kitchen at the end of the corridor, grabbing one for herself too. All her calls were being held and Carol had a chunk of the day set aside for the interview itself and the write up, possibly the only thing she’d be doing today.
“Here we are,” the bottle and a tall, slim glass were placed onto coasters before Carol took her seat to get them started. “Well, thank you for agreeing to the interview, I know that our head office were probably a little persistent, but humoring them tends to work fairly well.” Pushy was really the word that Carol wanted to use, but hey. They got the interview they wanted, it might keep them happy for a while.
“Getting used to the media attention yet?” Carol obviously did her research, the available information about his case, the early media scrutiny, coverage on the drawn out case to clear the conviction, the early process of the reality show. She’d used YouTube to watch clips from interviews and some of the news coverage of his trial. “Still a little too invasive?”
~*~
Cotton ignore the glass in favor of taking the top off the water bottle itself to drink from---poison was a real fear. Doping was easy in prison. He'd been doped more than once before he'd started getting suspicious. After that, Cotton had landed in the infirmary more than once from dehydration effects. It was a hard road to walk alone inside. No one took pity on baby rapers. Even career criminals had limits, Cotton had learned all about them the hard way during his tenure inside after his conviction.
"I'm hardly the media's darling I once was so I can honestly say things have calmed down quite a bit. I can handle what I get these days. Publicity is a part of the position for me and I do believe in the work I do on my show. I like to showcase people like myself who were wrongfully accused or even convicted of a crime. That's more important to me than hiding what kind of breakfast I like to have."
He gave a smile as he screwed the top back onto the water.
Smile. Make eye contact. Be approachable.
Working the system was easy once a guy learned the steps to navigating it.
"Lately I've been focused on my book which Sid -Sidney Prescott, yes, the Sidney Prescott- has been helping me with so I can get it right. I've really been enjoying my time here in the OC. With the show in syndication, it's freed up my schedule other than the odd appearance here or there. We'll start filming new episodes in January of 2016."
~*~
Carol tried to keep her focus on him, her scrawl slanting over the page as she jotted down things to remember. Usually interviews like this were typed up word for word in a suitable interview format, but with the stipulations, it was more likely that Carol would end up with an article with a large amount of her own observations than a straight reading of the meeting. She could work with it, but it meant a hell of a lot of note taking for the process.
She’d already developed a short-hand years ago, one for herself and herself alone while working in New York with the police on certain sensitive subjects. It meant if her information was ever seized, no one could really read it or find out who her contacts were. Carol had always just stuck to it, when writing notes for herself or reporting. Occasionally it made Carol feel rude, since her scrawl tended to slant into a diagonal line if she wasn’t checking where she was writing, but sometimes needs must.
“The show, right, Pure Cotton. It’s gotten off to a really good start, hasn’t it? Tested well among the 25-35 demographic, and you’ve been doing some promoting for the new series, right? What is is about the concept behind your series do you think appeals to the audience?”
Personally, Carol had only caught a few snippets. Her schedule really didn’t cater to getting to watch anything with any degree of regularity, but she’d already heard a few of the girls mention it after they found out Weary would be in for an interview.
~*~
"We've done well with the show. Pure Cotton was designed to appeal to people who appreciate a wide variety of topics from True Crime to the standard talk show fare. I think it has a mass appeal to it as a result of covering as many different facets of life as we do. We've done everything from fake marriages to people who were framed by their own parents. Every time I start to think my story is bad? I look at the preview for our next interview sessions. It puts things into perspective for me. I am not alone. I am not the only man who went to jail for a crime he did not commit. People like the happy endings, too."
He shrugged as he rolled the water bottle between his hands. Cotton had made certain they wouldn't showcase too many stories where someone died in prison or lost more of their life than they gained back with their freedom. It mattered to him to show there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Convictions could ruin so much for people. Showing they didn't have to ruin everything was a major win in his estimation. There was nothing better than getting to express to someone how glad he was they'd been exonerated.
Freedom was never to be taken for granted.
Considering what he said carefully, he stated, "I know I have a decent-sized following among women in that age bracket as well as with older women who are retired or women who work from home or are stay-at-home mothers. They seem to like to know someone's son got out of the system. They also like to know about my personal life. I'm not going to lie about that. I had a spell where I went a little wild. It made headlines. Ratings did spike. I didn't do it for any of those reasons. I---I just wanted to live again."
All the things he'd planned to talk about seemed to have fallen out of his head. Cotton made eye contact with his interviewer to work on another grin. He was an Everyman. He was a good guy. She could trust him. They could talk about the show, his book, the fact he was getting feature film role offers, anything at all except how many drunk bitches he'd banged in limos because he'd wanted to prove he didn't get turned on by little girls. Cotton knew his flaws. He didn't have to emphasize them.
"What about yourself? What do you think makes my show appealing? Have you seen it?"
~*~
“Well, you did lose a fairly large chunk of life around about that developmental milestone age,” No, Carol wasn’t a therapist, she wasn’t even into psychology or the human condition really, but she knew enough from reporting in New York to know when people lost that freedom at those younger ages, sometimes it was enough to make them a little wild when they got the chance to do it. “And considering how much attention was put on things, we all do some crazy things from time to time.” Living a little, that’s what Michael always told her, ‘c’mon Carol, just live a little’, to put down the work and just go wild, just once.
Sometimes Carol felt like she missed her chance at that when she lost Michael.
“Right now, I think the appeal comes from the nature. People are fascinated by the true crime aspect of things. Things like Law and Order, procedural shows, Orange is the New Black, these have all really thrown the justice system, and all it’s flaws right into the public eye.” For all that they were somewhat inaccurate, everyone loved a good procedural, seeing how the system worked, the crimes that were solved, the bad guys they stopped, the innocent people they helped. It was feel good viewing with a hint of soap opera about them.
“Now, the new show starts in January, but you’re slated for a book release soon, are you planning a book tour?” It was probably whoever his publicist was, ideas for how many things they could get in while he was right in the public’s mind, while he had the limelight, before the next reality star rose up and people shifted their attention. He seemed like a more put together man, hopefully he landed on his feet and kept going when the ultimate shift in attention came.
~*~
Milestone Age was a new one on Cotton. It didn't dim his smile though he found himself trying to remember how it'd felt at that time in his life. Had he been at a major crossroads? All he remembered focusing on was getting ahead of where his father landed at the same age. Cotton felt his whole life was spent clawing his way up from the bottom. There never seemed to be a time where he didn't have to fight to keep from backsliding to some forgotten zone where losers landed with no prospects of any kind of future outside of menial labor jobs and trailer parks.
"Could be right. I often feel I'm the same person all the time. I'm some guy trying to stay ahead. I came from nowhere and nothing. I don't want to go back to that. I want to get the most out of my life. My show helps me do that for myself as well as help others get themselves a leg up. I don't mind prurient interest. It sells. I just---I want to be more than a hype man."
Cotton wanted his life to mean something.
He supposed everyone felt that way if they were worth a shit. People who didn't want to make a difference usually didn't care because they had no grasp on where they stood in the circle of life. They were ignorant to the fact without making a difference? They faded away. Forgotten lives were something he'd focused on before on his show. So many fell through the cracks after life was hard on them; Cotton didn't want to be the kind of man who allowed that to happen to him. He was not going to fade away to make it easier on the people who'd put him away.
"The book is its own issue. My publicist desperately wants to start planning a tour, interviews, signings, the works. Me? I'm still trying to make sure I can write it. I plug away at it every day. Some days I delete thousands of words while others I add a few thousand. It's a start and stop cycle. For me, the hard part is knowing how much is too much to share with the world. There are some experiences I've had I'm honestly not certain the public would appreciate hearing about."
~*~
Carol understood having something to prove, even if it was just to yourself. Showing that you were worth more than what people said, achieving something they said it was pointless trying. There were people who would get it and people who wouldn’t, whatever their reasoning, but for Carol it was something she understood the drive for.
“Tabloids like a good story; sex, drugs, run ins with the media or the law, they sell issues, they get attention.” And since Carol had come up through tabloids she was aware of just how easy it was to make yourself in those stories, the problem was it occasionally destroyed people in the process. “We’re not interested in any of that here.” It likely wouldn’t make it into print, least of all because Carol wasn’t the sort to rehash the old tales -people knew them or they didn’t, but Carol prided herself on not smearing that stuff on pages.
“Obviously, this book is bringing in a lot of attention, especially since it hasn’t been slated for a release date, or even finished yet, do you feel that it puts pressure on you to deliver something, or is it just a matter of how much of your life you really want to share with the world?” Carol wasn’t one for biographies, sometimes a girl needed an escape from all the real life drama of the world. But obviously she understood entirely the setbacks and stumbles of writing.
~*~
"I don't think anyone would blame me if I couldn't finish the book. I barely got an education. I don't make myself out to be more than I am and I'm no scholar. The hard part isn't the pressure to deliver at all. It's exactly what you said: knowing how much of my life I really want to share with the world. I'm not ashamed. That's---"
Cotton stopped to take a breath. He tried to gather his thoughts to keep from sounding too defensive. This woman had an interview to do. The least he could offer her were a few good quotes to put on her pages. There was nothing in her line of inquiry he hadn't expected. She was actually nicer to him than any reporter he'd dealt with in years. Usually by this stage Cotton had already explained who he was and was not fucking, how much weight he'd managed to keep off with his personal trainer, and fielded questions about his supposed feud with Sidney.
Carol Danvers was basically saint-like for an investigative reporter.
"Being a man means certain expectations are placed on me. People don't talk about some topics round men because society tells us if we do? We're somehow making that man less of a man. It's hard to deal with knowing I might lose someone's respect if I tell them too much about my incarceration."
Which hadn't been his fault which was the entire point of his show.
"I think I want to give people an idea without being too specific. Sometimes it's not a bad thing to leave things open to interpretation."
~*~
“Piece of advice, don’t worry too much about what you’re putting in. Any editor worth their salt will clean up the pages. A little rawness helps people feel connected.” Carol didn’t think everything should be grammatically correct in biographies, that all the reader wanted was something they could relate to, something that interested them. It added some authenticity to have those run on sentences. “It doesn’t need to be a literary masterpiece, it just needs to be… honest.” Which was probably not always something people wanted to be.
“Have you felt that, because of the nature of where this… we’ll call it fame but,” Carol doubted this was what anyone wanted to be famous for, “where it came from, do you feel that people often avoid certain lines of questioning with you? Are there certain things you’re asked that you feel like you’re constantly having to go over again, and things that you really want to get out there that no one broaches?” There was a reason Carol wasn’t asking about Miss Prescott, the interview had nothing to do with the supposedly dislike between them, the rumoured feud and backstabbing, the implied grudge.
It would be an easy sell, writing about the way a young girl ruined a man’s life because of a false allegation. People liked to have a victim and a villain. Carol wasn’t looking to put some kind of brand on a girl that, probably, already suffered enough under her own guilt.
What was or wasn’t between Miss Prescott and Mr Weary was none of Carol’s business.
~*~ Beating a dead horse was tame compared to how Cotton felt in most interviews. To say he'd been subjected to the same line of questioning on loop was minimizing it to the extreme; Cotton had gotten to the stage where the only interviews he'd do were ones where he could be drinking at the same time. He'd damn near become an alcoholic as a result of the constant repetition. No one had wanted to know the truth. They had only wanted him to stone Sid to death or talk about how much money was his life really worth to the state who'd convicted him.
"Yeah. Simplest way to say it? Yeah. I have answered the exact same questions so many times it feels almost as if I did more than the two trials I actually sat for which -in case you've never had to go to court?- sucks. There are more polite, politically correct ways to say it, but long story short: court sucks."
Cotton sipped at his water, wetting his lips as he thought on what he could say without flagellating the decomposing equine himself. It was hard to skate the line between too honest and just honest enough. He was so tired of it all.
...That was what he wanted to talk about.
Gesturing to her with the water bottle, Cotton said, "Okay, look. I'm tired of having to skate this line between too honest and just honest enough. I don't lie about what happened. That's what I have always had going for me in this whole situation. I may have done some bad things, made some mistakes, taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque, but I never lied and I'm not going to start now I'm a free man. People want to hear me stone Sid to death. They want me to hate her for taking time out of my life, for giving me chronic insomnia, for not being able to sit with my back to a crowd, for so many things, but she was every bit as much a victim as me. Her childhood? Gone. I don't want to keep telling people how there is no grudge on my part toward Sidney Prescott. I don't blame her for telling police what she believed to be the truth. Who I do blame? The police for not even questioning if it was possible I was innocent."
He sat back in his chair, screwing the cap back onto the water bottle with hands which shook. There was so much energy running through him, Cotton could barely keep seated. He wasn't about to start pacing. That would be ridiculous. This woman wanted an interview. He'd thought he could give her something to plug the show. It seemed he was going to finally give the world a dose of truth instead. Cotton could hardly believe the nerve it took to keep talking. He swallowed back the deluge of words which wanted to flood out of his mouth in favor of a simpler, cleaner response.
"Our society is so so quick to want to think someone with my background is a natural born killer. Poor kid from a trailer park with an alcoholic father? Yeah. That's it. He's guilty! No more investigation. Nothing. What do I want to talk about? I want to talk about what the police don't want to talk about. I want to talk about how they turn their back on inmates abusing each other. Shivs are a constant threat and getting cut or stabbed with one? Well, they send you to the infirmary. No reports are written up. No charges are pressed. Some gangs join together to beat, rape, torture other inmates. The guards turn their backs. That? That's what I want to talk about. Do I regret the year plus of my life I won't ever get back? Absolutely. You know what I regret more? I regret the torture I endured while imprisoned and how it has affected the way I view the men and women who enforce the law in this country for the rest of my life. That's my biggest regret. Why do I have insomnia? Because the people who were supposed to protect me while I served out my sentence for the crime I did not commit chose to look the other way at night so I had no choice except to stay awake to look after myself."
~*~
Honestly, it would definitely be more interesting to Carol to look into that avenue.
She didn’t grudge how people spent their time, or how people made their money. And really, after the hand he’d been dealt she thought it was exceptionally noble of Weary to be using what had happened to try and help others in his situation, rebuilding lives after convictions was hard, rebuilding a life after a conviction that was wrong? Carol couldn’t fathom the kinds of mental and physical anguish that might cause. “Not to belittle what you do or what you’re attempting, but those are some of the more interesting aspects to this entire situation.” But of course everyone was expecting some public piece of what Cotton Weary was doing and how the next season of Pure Cotton would pan out and just what kind of movie deals he might make, if the book would be ready soon. All those annoyingly repetitive questions he was probably sick of.
Closing over her workpad, fairly certain she had enough to write up an interesting and not too invasive article for his two page spread, Carol offered a pleasant but largely unassuming smile. “Technically, while you’re here on business for the magazine I’m not supposed to ask, but,” she was the editor, what exactly were they going to do? “I wonder if you’d be interested in setting up a second meeting, one outside the magazine, where we might be able to discuss those things?”
The nature of the corrections system was a very delicate one. More people came out of prison addicted to something than the number that went in. Depression, addiction, gangs, the effects prison had on even minor offenders was sometimes utterly ghastly. It wasn’t the sort of piece Carol tended towards, but it was a potentially interesting and enlightening piece she had a feeling she could pitch to some major news sources. “We could keep it off the record, no name dropping, if it’s something you’d be comfortable with.”
~*~
Cotton smiled slow at Carol as she asked him for something no one had ever asked for before: the truth.
There was something about her which screamed honesty and honorable intentions. She was a put-together woman, but younger than most would expect for someone in her position. Powerful women in her age bracket were usually vipers who did whatever it took to climb the social ladder. Cotton doubted Carol Danvers had ever done anything outside the law to progress her career. She had made her way to the top as a person who deserved to be there---even if he didn't know enough about her personal life to know how she'd wound up where she was at the magazine.
He thought of the options they'd have to talk. His place was out. Cotton would have Sid over or even Henry -who he trusted for reasons he couldn't put into words- but inviting in a reporter even if she was off-the-record was not happening. Cotton had precious little privacy. There would be no sacrificing what he still had left to call his own. His home was a refuge away from the public eye; it would stay that way no matter what the cost or whether or not it might be for some cosmic greater good.
"There's a library I've gotten really fond of visiting to write at---they've got great tables outside. Comfortable. Excellent wifi signal. If you happened to be there at the same time I happened to be there? We might have a conversation where information the penal system doesn't want to share with the public was shared with you. Some of these guys? They were people who took orders. I wouldn't rat them out for something they couldn't help. Others? They're worse than the inmates they're meant to guard. Name-dropping on them would be only too satisfying for me if it were to come to happen serendipitously we were in the same place at the same time."
Cotton took his mobile phone out of his pocket to unlock it, pulling up his personal calendar before sliding it across the table to Carol.
"You happened to get an idea of when I'd be at a particular library say Garden Grove Regional, the Civic Center Branch, since it happened to be marked with a 'W' for writing. You happened to type a 'C' on one of the days with the 'W' and we happen to meet on that day...it's funny how coincidences happen."
He waited on her to see if she wanted to go for it or not before finishing up his water.
"Now, some of the generals they always want answered and I'll get out of your hair. My favorite color is still blue. Specifically the color of the sky on a cloudless day. I sleep in pajama sets like most people's grandad's do. I am not dating anyone or looking to start a relationship right now. I'm working on my book as often as I can. I will be doing a cameo in a movie about a Marine who was discharged from service for false allegations which will be coming out in early 2016. I have no intentions of doing a film based on my life or experiences at this time. I still love Japanese food the way hipsters love Starbucks. My best day recently was spent with an up-and-coming photographer named Henry Townshend who gave me amazing art prints for my personal home which inspire nothing but joy in me. That should get you some happy reader points."
Cotton knew how to please an audience. He'd learned out of necessity more than anything else.
Standing, he gave her a smile before offering her hand to shake, "I look forward to reading your piece, Ms. Danvers, and if we do happen to meet purely by chance? I'm sure I can find something to talk about you might be interested in hearing."
~*~
This seemed like a much more fortuitous work for Carol. She preferred public interest pieces that were actually interesting. And while the latest celebrity gained readers and sold issues, Carol’s interest lay in much more juicy places. An account of those abusing power or shirking responsibilities within the prisons would be something Carol could really get her teeth into.
With the calendar before her, Carol selected one of the days to add her own ‘C’ to as an appointment, taking a mental note of the time and date to add the library to her schedule. She already had most of the next issue mapped out, the editorials were selected, the ads were in place and she was just waiting for the articles to get drafted for a map out, she had plenty of time to research before then so that she had a body to work from with whatever Mr Weary could give her.
“It’s been a pleasure, Mr Weary, I really do hope to see you again.” And maybe they could both get something out of this. “And I do how things go well with your future projects.” With her notepad in hand, Carol stood up, ready to walk Weary to the reception area again, happy with the possibility of a more hard hitting interview with relevance to just what Weary was trying to bring attention to.