“His mic was damaged,” Zara replied. “Troy took it off him… What did he say?”
“‘Congrats on ruining your life, you worthless white trash cum dump,’” he recited.
“Goddammit,” I exhaled, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Shawn, I am so sorry.”
“I’ve heard stuff like that for years. But I couldn’t take it from him.” His shoulders twitched, barely a shrug betraying deeply buried wounds.
I stepped toward him, but Zara stopped me. “You go on camera, the network will air every frame. I can’t in good conscience let you do that,” she said. “Shawn, I’ll fight like hell to get the truth on air, but we’re out of time. Any parting thoughts?”
He rubbed his eyes, struggling, and I focused on the image in Zara’s viewfinder rather than the man an arm’s length away, as if watching a show myself, not someone who’d broken my heart. “I… I just want Luke to win. For his kids. That’s all I’ve wanted this whole time.”
“And cut,” Zara said softly, a tiny beep chiming as she turned the camera off.
The paper cocktail napkin fluttered in Shawn’s hand, his phone number dancing in the wind as flurries of snow swirled around us. “Will you call me? When you’re ready?”
I stared across the hotel parking lot. The more I looked at him, the harder this was. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I admitted. “When I was your age, I thought I’d fallen in love on a TV show too, but we both know that wasn’t—”
“No, don’t give me some speech about the past, not right now, not if this is the last conversation we’re going to have. This isn’t about anyone but you and me.” He carefully reached out a hand to guide my face back to his.
“Luke… I’m so sorry. I hate that all you see in me now is one more guy who fucked your husband, that your kids will only know me as the piece of shit who punched their dad. I ruined everything, and I am… so disgusted with myself.”
He inhaled, brushing his curls from his face as the wind kicked up. “God, I feel like I’ve been two different people. One’s this dumb kid who fucked his way to some bogus idea of fame… and the other’s a guy who’s a little older, still kind of dumb, probably pretty broken. Or at least he was until he met someone at this old church in Italy, who saw all these possibilities in him.” His voice shook, a fragile smile briefly breaking over his face. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but… when you remember me,please just think of the second guy? Because I promise he’s the one you knew.”
I managed to nod, so unmoored by his honesty, no matter how fumbling it was, that the question I asked in response surprised even me. “Shawn, are you glad I found out? About you and Barnes?”
“Yeah,” he finally said, as if he were considering the possibility for the first time. “I mean, the worst thing’s happened now, right? The world’s still spinning.”
Zara cranked the car engine on, and he glanced away, granting me permission to leave, to consign him to memory, but before I got in the car, before he receded in that rearview mirror, I reached down to take the napkin bearing his phone number, crumpled from the grip of his fist.
40
2015
SEASON 20, EPISODE 9:
“Shawn of the Bed”
Guilt is an endless tidal wave. No matter how far you run, it washes after you until your whole world is water. You can improvise a raft or hunt for land, but eventually you learn there’s only one way to survive. You have to swim. I’d seen Shawn dive in his ocean to face what he’d hid from me, and now I was suddenly considering what I’d always believed was impossible, what I could only do in front ofthesepeople,thesecameras: tell the whole truth.
“You know, you’re not a bad producer,” Zara said, interrupting my racing mind on the drive back. I laughed half-heartedly, but now was my opportunity.
“Zara, can I ask a favor? Without being too cryptic, I need to get something on camera. I’m not sure when, but I’d like it to be with you. Not Troy. It’s sensitive.”
Her eyes cut to me before returning to the road. “Yeah, we can figure that out.”
I smiled, relieved she didn’t press the subject. “And can you promise it’ll make the broadcast edit?”
“There are a dozen other people who approve cuts, but I’ll do my best.” She gripped the wheel, hesitating now. “Does it involve Barnes?”
If I ever attempted this confession, Barnes couldn’t be around when I did. He’d instantly swoop into the aftermath to carve up what remained of me and then pick my bones clean in court the minute we got home. “Not if I can help it.”
When I arrived at the house, the vulture himself awaited me in the kitchen, sipping broth from a mug. “Thanks for prepping the kids,” he grumbled, gesturing to his darkened bruise. “This was fun to explain, though your sister’s never looked so happy to see me.”
I glared, any empathy gone after the appalling words he’d said to Shawn. “They okay?”
“They moved past it after about thirty seconds,” he responded, clearly hurt they hadn’t made a bigger scene. “You miked?”
I shook my head grimly, and he held up his shirt, proving the absence of wires. “Then I’m guessing you want to discuss whatever happened to Baby Shawn?”
