What preoccupied Sorell?

The woman wished to answer her hair, but she choose another more subtle answer," I'm preoccupied to see the youth waste their time listening to this show when they could be seeking ways to better their future. I'm preoccupied with thinking I can be a trending topic when there are serious issues we could focus on. The moment spent here is such a waste of time for me."

Joseph had to hand it to her Sorell was one heck of a brutally honest woman.

"So like you don't care if people don't like you?"

"My job consists of giving people information. Facts, does one need to be liked to expose the truth? Whether they appreciate me or not isn't relevant, is it as long as I'm doing my job?"

"Well, that wraps it up for today. Thank you, Sorell, for joining us."

They had already overstepped their diffusion time. Joseph had to cut it.

"Thank you for having me," polite and cordial Sorell got up. She didn't even know why she came. If It weren't for Regie, her boss who owed the host with whom he played poker, the woman would have ignored the invitation.

Sorell didn't even wait to chat with anyone. If there was one thing she hated, it was black men who belittled female success. Sorell didn't want to spend one more minute in the same room as Kwan.

"Wow, she is pissed," Joseph said as he watched Sorell strut down the corridor.

"Pff, she's so full of herself."

Joseph nudged his protegé, "come on, Kwan, admit it she's not what you excepted. Why didn't you answer when she asked whether she was your type or not?"

"Because she isn't."

Joseph chuckled, "you are a liar, my boy. You licked your lips more times than one does a ball of vanilla ice cream. You fixed her like a wolf on the loose. You wanted to eat that woman up alive."

"Can you please just shut up?" Kwan said while he tried to repress his cheeks from betraying him with a blush.

"Look at you blushing like a virgin."

"She's got character, I hate her views, but the woman is solid."

"See," Joseph said while he gave him a pat on the back.

 Kwan saw people break down and cry like newborns on their show daily. Sorell surprised in many ways. She held her temper and remained dignified. Kwan didn't expect Sorell to keep her opinions, but Sorell didn't play to gain the webs colosseum that either boosted you with a thumbs up or killed one like an emperor with a thumbs down. The cliché of the angry black woman was an established criterion. The way Sorell handled the whole interview was impressive from Kwan's perspective.

During the show, Kwan observed Sorell. Her hands were thin, and she had long delicate fingers and nails. Her face a rice grain and her deep complexion cocoa didn't even shine with a droplet of sweat. When Kwan looked at her, he saw other black women such as Adult Akech, Anouk Yai, Lupita Nyongo. All were brave and beautiful for the battles they fought, while Sorell's beauty flaked by her lack of concern for others.

"Regie, I swear. Don't ever set me up like that again," Sorell said over the phone as she got out of the parking lot.

"Calm down, Sorell."

"They slaughtered me," Sorell clicked open her car's door, sat down, and posed her phone.

"Sorell, go on Twitter. The reactions speak for themselves. People still hate you, but you've got some people out there who heard you."

"Regie, you know I hate doodling the public opinion," the woman said as she fastened her seat belt.

"It's for the channel, Sorell. Thank you for your sacrifice. I appreciate it."

"Remember the deal Regie."

"Yeah, I haven't forgotten. I'll see for the prime time slot."

Sorell had a goal, the evening news. People thought she made it, but for the woman, she would be sitting in stars the night she presented the highly coveted evening news. Yep, some dreamt of becoming the next Beyoncé, and Sorell dreamt of becoming the first black woman to deliver the evening news that the whole country watched religiously.

If a few years ago it was a distant utopia, Sorell was sure she could make it, but she had to have the public on her side for that.

It was a delicate matter for Sorell refused the concessions, which consisted of pretending to appreciate and doing things she disliked.

"Gosh and that co-host," Sorell added as she drove out of the parking lot.

"You mean Kwan."

"You know him?"

"Sorell, don't you remember when you came for the screening at the channel. Kwan was a candidate."

"What you mean I competed against him."

"Yes, he was one of the finalists, but the panel thought his style was too avant-garde for the channel. Also, when Clotilde asked him if he was willing to do something about his hair. He categorically told us to buzz off."

"Oh, my God, you allowed Clotilde to ask that."

"Sorell, come on. We're talking about national news. The population isn't ready."

"If you don't push, people won't be ready for anything, and you know it."

Regie Lemonnier was part of the French Audiovisual diversity comity. Like any group or institution, actions and decision-making were slow, but the man did what he could.

"Well, at least I have a context for the man's hostility."

Regie brought reasons, Sorell could comprehend, analyze, and quantify. No wonder the man hated her. Sorell had the spot he wanted.

"The guy is crazy, though, Regie. He's like a pit bull that doesn't want to let go of your foot."

"I got the impression he treated you well. I've seen him do worse. Kwan has strong convictions, and he's hot-blooded."

Sorell shook her head; she could not believe Regie sent her to such a lion's dens.

"You know what, you should tweet something."

"No, Regie, you know I don't do that."

"Why don't you let Dounia do it for you?"

"Regie, I'm not going to let an intern moderate my Twitter."

"Why not? Everyone does. My wife does it for me."

"Regie."

"What? I'm a busy man."

"Your wife is the mayor of your city. She's the one who doesn't have time."

Sorell shook her head in disapproval while she drove.

"She loves doing it. Anyway, see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Regie."

The evening was a long one, and Sorell was in a hurry to take off her wig that itched from the heat created by the stress the show caused. Her face didn't sweat, but her head was a sauna during the show. Some days were better than others. That day was one where Sorell wished she had a shell to crawl inside.