Free Never Keeping Secrets by Niobia Bryant

We’ll see you Monday night for a new edition of The A-List .”
    â€œGood night everyone,” Danielle said, looking into the camera with her million-dollar smile and easy-breezy stance that was anything but.
    â€œWe’re clear,” someone yelled out in the studio.
    The smile faded and Danielle playfully pinched the hand of her cohost, Kent Yarborough, as her assistant made her way over to her. “Have a good one,” she said.
    He starting loosening his leather tie and reached up to muss his slicked back blond hair until it stood up in funky spikes. “You too,” he said with a wink.
    They shared a little look as they both stood still while their mic packs were removed. Danielle wondered if he too was fighting the urge to hug her. This was huge for both of them. Major league. They both had just begun as the co-anchors of the nightly entertainment show after a nationwide eight-month search. He had been a current events reporter on a small station out of Little Rock and she had been working at a local cable station in New York. Danielle had to fight not to twerk her ass because she was so happy about the new gig. Today marked the end of the first full week on camera but in the months since she first snagged the job she had already done one-on-one interviews with Tom Cruise and Denzel Washington, tried on three racks of clothes and dozens of shoes for the show wardrobe, and did the red carpet for the movie premiere of a new, sexy Michael Ealy flick.
    This was a long way from her days on WNYP, a twenty-four-hour local cable station out of New York. A long way.
    â€œWhat else do I have to get done today, Ming?” Danielle asked her assistant, accepting her cell phone from the young woman as they strode out of the studio and toward the elevators.
    â€œThat’s actually it for today. You’ve gotten some more flowers and welcome gifts that I left in your office. Also, invites came in for dinner parties that you’ll need to go through and decide which ones to attend. Lastly, I wanted to show you I updated both your website and your Wikipedia page,” she said, handing over her iPad.
    â€œI’ll check it on my computer upstairs . . . in my office,” Danielle said with satisfaction. Her mind was stuck on “. . . you’ll need to go through and decide which ones to attend.”
    She bit back a smile, completely amazed at her life.
    It was everything she ever dreamt of and more. Well, almost everything . . .
    They rode the elevator upstairs in silence and Danielle pulled out and unlocked her cell phone and quickly updated her Twitter and Facebook accounts:

    Just wrapped up my first week of taping #TheAList. Still feel like I’m floating on clouds. #blessed.

    In just the days since her announcement as one of the new co-anchors her follower counts had almost tripled.
    â€œDo you want to order lunch or are you leaving for the day?” Ming asked, her thumb poised and ready over the touch screen of her phone.
    Danielle stepped off the elevator onto the fifth floor, which housed the wardrobe and makeup department. She kept the doors from closing by holding her hand out to fool the sensors. “You go on up ahead of me and order me some tempura. Please,” she added, not wanting to come off with a bad attitude.
    â€œNo problem.”
    Danielle removed her hand and smiled as the doors closed her part-time assistant off from her. She walked down the narrow hall to the oversized room housing the wardrobe for all of the female correspondents for the network. She smiled and spoke to anyone who crossed her path.
    Danielle had gone through too much to make it this far and she was determined not to mess it up with a bad attitude. “Thanks again, Justin,” she said to the slender-hipped stylist.
    He and his team of four wardrobe assistants were cataloging the racks of clothing. “You’re welcome,” he said, his short and spiky hair dyed a deep