There it was. Cookie had really asked it. And asked it right here on the red carpet.
In front of God and everybody.
The question was out there, on the table – figuratively speaking.
The cameras were rolling.
A hush fell over the set.
Everyone waiting to see how she answered it.
If she answered it. Or brushed it aside.
“Well,” Imogene said, “I should think that was obvious, isn’t it?”
She waited for Cookie to answer.
Cookie waited for Imogene to continue.
The prolonged silence grew awkward.
Cookie waiting patiently, like the professional that she was, to draw out the response
Imogene staring vacuously at the camera, smiling, posing, seemingly unaware of the discomfort of everyone else on the set.
“Well, no, not really,” Cookie blinked, “maybe you could tell us.”
Imogene turned her attention back to the interviewer, “Tell you what, dear?”
“Tell us, tell us… tell us who designed your gown for tonight!”
Imogene launched into her well rehearsed speech.
Cookie shook her head, beaten. She’d have some answering to do when she got back to the studio.