Adulation (21 page)

Insisting that the girl’s identity be kept anonymous, Danny’s lawyer, at his request, asked the court to issue a gag order, and the court acquiesced. To avoid a civil suit, he paid the family two million dollars for pain and suffering (his last movie having grossed ten million dollars at the box office). Additionally—and this was neither a condition of the plea nor the settlement—he set up a college fund for the girl, and every year on her birthday he deposited the equivalent of her age in denominations of one thousand dollars. On the anniversary of the accident, he made donations to various charities—M.A.D.D. or S.A.D.D., animal shelters, children’s hospitals, etcetera—also in denominations of a thousand dollars

equal to the anniversary year, in the girl and her family’s name.  However, he’d neither seen nor heard from them since, and he was forbidden to make contact with her.

Editorials at the time said that Danny Masters had dodged a bullet, that had he been African American or white trash or anyone other than an award-winning screenwriter, he’d be rotting in a cell right now, and he knew they were right. Even the judge had said, “God is giving you a second chance, although I can’t for the life of me understand why you deserve it.” Danny had agreed with that as well, and had asked himself and God the same question many times since. As the years passed, with the exception of the occasional mention by reporters during interviews, especially during premieres, or when he wrote a character with a drinking problem (bound by the gag order, they were only allowed to say that he’d pled guilty to DWI after crashing his car and hitting a pedestrian), the Incident—although to call it that was a gross understatement—seemed to have faded into people’s memories as nothing more than a stupid, fratboy stunt, like cow-tipping or indecent exposure. Hollywood, the world, and his fans had forgiven and forgotten. Even Frannie forgave him, saying years after she divorced him that it was the disease of alcoholism and not his intention that had caused the accident that morning. But Danny could never believe it.

Ella had never known more than what Google told her, and he never told her the story in fullbecause he couldn’t bear the thought of her disowning him. But Ella, having never known or seen him asanything but sober, couldn’t fathom that the guy in the mug shot and her dad were one and the same.

More astounding, his success soared. Everything he wrote was gold, winning the praise of criticsand fans and industry professionals. Deep down, he knew that at the end of the day, he’d have to keepwriting at that level not just to win his daughter’s love, or his fans’, or Charlene’s, or anyone else’s, but tomake sure he kept up his end of the bargain with God.

And yet it was never enough.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sunny Smith

“S
O, HOW  WAS
 
it?” asked Georgie when I got home from my date with Josh and called him, as I’d

promised.

“It was fine,” I said.

“That’s it?”

“Mmm-hmm,” I answered. I’d decided that I would reveal details only if he asked for them point-

blank.

“Are you going to see him again?”

I paused for a beat, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer. “Yes, I am.”

Georgie’s pause lasted even longer. “I hope you know what the hell you’re doing, Sunrise, ’cause I sure don’t.”

I couldn’t remember a time when Georgie had not supported me, and his defiance suddenly felt like a knife in my back.

“That’s just fine, Georgie, ’cause it’s none of your business,” I snapped back.

“Look, I know you’ve been lonely and you’re kicking yourself because of that Danny Masters disaster—”

“That’s not it,” I interrupted.

“And for some reason you’re freaking out about some little video.”

“Some little video?” I protested. “I want that godforsaken video to
 
go away
—I don’t want to be reminded of it every five seconds.”

“No one has said a word about it in the last two days. It’s already run its course. I think everyone has somehow managed to move on with their lives. You want
 
you
 
to go away, have been trying for years to disappear, and I can’t for the life of me understand why. Regardless of what you said to Danny Masters, you spoke your mind, and you’ve been so terrified to do that ever since Teddy. So Teddy got drunk and announced on TV—”

“In the middle of a live segment, I might add—” I interrupted.

“Of a stupid game—”

I interrupted him again. “It was a
 
Yankee playoff post-game show
  
”—

“Whatever—that he was dumping you because you couldn’t have kids. Big fucking deal. It was fucking
 
News Twelve Long Island
, for chrissake—not CNN.”

“Are you forgetting how many phones calls I got? How many my parents and brother got? Are you forgetting that he said my name as he announced that he was
 
cheating on me
?” I fumed.

I knew the scene as if I’d just replayed the tape yesterday: Teddy had been watching the game at the Main Event with his buddies—he’d been going out quite a bit with his “buddies,” in fact—or so he’d told me. News Twelve was covering playoff fever around the island and just so happened to go to that particular sports bar. And Teddy, totally tanked, pulled the reporter’s microphone to him and slurred on live TV , “I just wanna tell my wife  Sunny Smith so it reads: Sunny Smith that I’m leaving her for Ramona

Brooks because she can have my babies.”

The reporter finally decided that maybe Teddy didn’t have anything relevant to say about Mariano Rivera’s fierce pitching arm and regained control of the mic.

And so I learned about the end of my marriage at approximately the same time the rest of Long Island did.

“I do remember, only because you keep reminding me. I also remember you not taking the bastardfor everything he had in the divorce. But it wasn’t Oprah doing a show on infertile couples, and it wasn’tthe reason everyone was watching. Hell, it was a
 
sports segment
—the moment they finally had thedecency to take the camera off Teddy, they went right back to their usual boring coverage, and everyoneelse went on with their lives.”

“Almost everyone,” I corrected.

“And whose fault is that? You could’ve moved on, but you chose to retreat into your shell likesome frightened tortoise and never come out. And here we are, still talking about it. Get. Over. It!”

I found myself grateful we were having this conversation over the phone—how much harderwould it have been in person? He was in my face as it was.

“Besides, it’s not like you were the national spokeswoman for fertility. Valerie Plame gettingouted as a CIA agent? Elizabeth Edwards having to hear from the
 
National Enquirer
 
that her husband wascheating on her while she had cancer? A college student killing himself because his roommate posted avideo to the student body that outed him as gay? A teenager getting rocks thrown at his head for simply
being
 
gay?
 
That
’s some serious shit, Sunny. Your  little fifteen minutes of fame wasn’t even fifteenminutes. And
 
everyone
 
has forgotten it except you. You’re the one that’s stretched it out for the last sevenyears. You’re the only one who carries it around like a crutch when you’ve walked just fine all along.”

As every word he said sank in, I felt so ashamed and foolish I couldn’t even speak. He waited afew seconds before firing the next round.

“You’ve been so fixated on this absurd notion that everyone is looking at you in judgment thatyou’ve never been able to see that Teddy exposed
 
himself
 
as the tool he is, not you. The people to whomyou really matter love you no matter what. And the people who don’t know you don’t matter at all. How isit that you never learned that lesson?”

“
He
 
mattered to me, Georgie. He and the life we were supposed to have.”

“And what about your life now? Shouldn’t
 
that
 
matter? I gotta tell you, what’s been truly heartbreaking to watch is that you never even put up a fight, even though your parents raised you to do otherwise. You decided playing it safe was playing it smart. You know what was so great about that video you abhor, and those Masterminds posts that came afterward? You stood up for an injustice—in the scheme of things, it wasn’t a big one, but you stood up and spoke your mind nonetheless. And you did it to

someone you
 
admired
, someone who let you down. You never even put Teddy in his place. We’ve all been waiting for you to
 
say something
, Sunrise. To
 
do
 
something. That Forty for Forty list was supposed to get you to come out and take your life back.”

I took a long pause. “Georgie, what the hell happened in that meeting today?”

“Forget it.”

“No! Why are you withholding things from me? Your plan, your distrust of Josh... We’ve always told each other everything.”

I thought about the direct message from Danny Masters that I’d kept secret and wondered if Georgie could hear the hypocrisy in my voice.

“We’re talking about
you
. You wanna get back out into the dating world, then great. But if it’s with Joshua Hamilton, then you’re making a huge mistake.”

“Good night, Georgie,” I snapped.

“Good night,” he replied, his voice bitter.

After slamming down my princess phone and returning it to the night table, I picked up the 40 for 40 list and perused it once again.

I opened the drawer and pulled out a red Sharpie, emphatically crossed out SLEEP WITH DANNY MASTERS, and returned the list and the pen to the table before turning off the light.

Shit. Going to bed mad at your best friend sucked. As I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceilingand replaying my date, trying to commit every sensory detail to permanent memory and recalling Josh’sgood-night kiss several times over and in slow motion, I wondered if I did know what I was doing. To nothave Georgie’s support? Hell, he had even approved of Teddy when we’d first gotten together, before Teddy’s inner tool came out.

The longer I waited for sleep, the farther back my memory took me.

The last seven years of my life scrolled slowly, dully past me. Endless days of routine, ofcomplacency, of silence. Hours of wasted time, of words sitting in a drawer, hidden away. It almost feltlike the movie
 
Groundhog Day
—every day was an opportunity for me to do it differently, to break out ofthe rut simply by opening my mouth. All this time I was afraid of being annihilated for being found out forwho I was, be it a mystery writer or a history buff or someone who wanted children not for herself but forher husband.

I was afraid of having people find out that I was afraid. Vulnerable. Naive.

And Georgie was right—I had no grounds for such a phobia. I was a white, heterosexual, Catholic,middle-class, post women’s lib, Generation X female who’d been raised by loving parents who neverdivorced and a brother who had looked after me when we were growing up. I was smart, creative, funny,and good at my job. I loved books and movies and where I came from. I didn’t smoke, didn’t do drugs,didn’t have any kind of addiction or disease or disorder. I had a good memory—too good, maybe, ormaybe it wasn’t good at all in that it distorted images and events and sound bites. No one I loved had dieda tragic death, and I had a place to live. And I had the best friends in the world who wanted me to besuccessful, to be happy.

I was forty years old, and I’d squandered so much time being afraid. Just like Theo said.

Perhaps that’s why I loved Danny Masters’s films and TV shows so much. His protagonistsalways got the last word, always stood up with the courage of their convictions, and in the end gotrewarded rather than punished  for it. They had their flaws and demons like all good characters; theystruggled and got beaten down every now and then. But when the bully beat them down, they got up andbeat back.

My own heroines possessed the tenacity that I was missing. They were charming and adaptable,owning every room they entered. Nothing was impossible to them, and they never met a challenge theydidn’t like. Obstacles were inviting. They relentlessly uncovered every clue, pursued every lead,deciphered every code, and dogged every suspect the way Columbo used to (although my characters did itwith more spunk and less befuddlement). Unlike Danny Masters’s characters, mine never expressedpolitical or doctrinal opinions. But they did bring the guilty to justice. They were Wonder Woman withoutthe sexy costume.