by Maria Siano
"Personal stories are almost never fact-checked by editors," Drew interrupted. "You know because during the past six months, with every article for your health series, I never once questioned if the information was true. I trusted you. Do I now have to go through every article you’ve written to confirm all those stories are true?"
Summer took a deep breath. "Drew." She softened her tone. "All of the other stories are true. As far as I know." She lowered her head. "These personal stories are the types of articles where journalists can easily be duped. That’s what happened here."
"So you’re saying you were duped by Kyle Mills?"
"Yes, that’s what I’m saying, Drew. I trusted Kyle was telling me the truth. And that was a mistake. He lied to me."
"So, why didn’t you verify the information before it was published?" Drew tilted his head as a scowl crossed his face.
Summer sighed. "For these types of personal stories, I have to trust the people I’m interviewing. I have to trust they are telling me the truth about their experiences. I can’t treat them all like liars."
"I trusted you, Summer." He pointed at her. "That was my mistake."
"This was a huge error in judgment on my part." Summer stood. "I see that now. We can —"
"This story is going to damage the Observer’s reputation." Drew shook his head. "Just when circulation has finally increased."
Summer’s heart raced. "My articles, especially my health series and my articles about Kyle, they all helped boost circulation." Her voice rose. "I’m responsible for some of that increase in readership."
Drew squinted. "You’re fired, Summer." Then he lowered his head and pointed toward the elevator. "Get your things and get out of here."
Summer’s stomach dropped and her knees wobbled. She fell into the chair as Drew stomped away toward his office.
Fired? Even during the most heated part of their conversation, she assumed she would be able to resolve things, make Drew understand.
How had she misjudged the situation so completely?
***
Kyle left the Good Day LA set and climbed into the back of the limo the studio provided for him during the press junket for Wreckless. He checked his phone. For the sixth time that day. During the entire ten-minute interview, his mind fixated on Summer. Had she finally responded to his email?
The limo driver pulled onto the Santa Monica Freeway as Kyle scrolled through his text messages.
Maxine asking about an interview with Access Hollywood.
Maxine reminding him about it. Again.
Vera.
A producer from Access Hollywood.
Maxine again. Kyle rolled his eyes and tossed the phone onto the seat next to him.
He closed his eyes and leaned against the seat. But then his eyes popped open and he grabbed the phone again. I’ll just have to keep trying, until Summer responds. He opened the email app and started to thumb the keys.
Summer,
I hope you are reading my emails, even if you’re not responding to them. I want to explain why I lied to you. I need to explain.
When Patrick Sheridan said I was using Faith to advance my career, I couldn’t stand knowing you might think it, too. But I was afraid to tell you the truth — that I had been diagnosed with cancer. I was afraid you would look at me differently.
Forgive me.
Kyle
Kyle hit "Send" and laid the phone onto the seat next to him as he leaned back. He slumped down and closed his eyes again.
A ping echoed in his ear and he opened one eye. Is it yet another ridiculous reminder from Maxine? Or could Summer have responded that quickly? He forced his tired eyes to open wider as he glanced down at the screen. A Google alert? He had set it up a few days earlier to keep up with the articles about Wreckless, and about him.
He read the headline: Reporter Fired for Writing Fabricated Story. Kyle’s heart pounded as he clicked on the link to the Observer website. "...Summer Madison, a reporter at The Observer, was fired..." Kyle gasped as he continued to skim the article. "...a tweet from Steve Baldwin, who knew Kyle Mills in grade school, revealed ‘Justin’ was a fabrication. Mills has no cousin named Justin, no cousin who died from Hodgkin’s..."
"Steve Baldwin," Kyle muttered to himself. His chest tightened. Of course it would be Steve. They always went after the same parts in school plays and Steve resented whenever Kyle got the lead. Why didn’t I expect this could happen?
Kyle’s hands shook as he gripped the phone and typed out another email message to Summer.
Summer,
I just found out you were fired. I can only say I’m sorry. And I know it’s not enough.
Anything you’re thinking about me can’t be worse than what I think of myself.
All I can do is try to make it up to you, if you’ll let me. Please tell me what I can do to help you get your job back.
Kyle
***
Summer surveyed the mound of notebooks on her desk. They contained quotes and facts and figures, remnants from her assignments for the Observer during the past year. She rummaged through her bottom desk drawer one last time. Then she piled everything inside an empty copy paper box.
With no more excuses to stay in the newsroom, she stood. As she stretched across the desk to grab her phone, it chimed. She glanced down at the screen as she reached for it. Another message from Kyle? She still hadn’t read the first message he sent three days ago. She had no interest in this message either.
Summer picked up the box and tossed her phone on top of the pile of notebooks.
She crept toward the elevator.
She didn’t want to leave. But she knew she had to.
She pressed "L" on the elevator and waited.
Noelle bounded toward her across the newsroom as Summer’s phone let out another chirp. Summer glanced down at the phone on top of the box. Kyle, again? He’s got to be kidding? She rolled her eyes.
Noelle approached, gasping for air. "I just heard, Summer." Noelle drew in another long breath. "I can’t believe it."
Summer shook her head. "I can’t believe it either." She looked up at the lit L on the elevator. "I can’t believe I let all of this happen."
"Do you want to go somewhere to talk?" Noelle inhaled. "Just let me grab my purse." She held up her hand. "We’ll go for coffee."
Summer put the box down on the floor. "OK," she said. "I’ll hold the elevator."
Summer glimpsed the phone staring at her from on top of the box. What could Kyle possibly have to say? Summer took a deep breath and pulled the phone out of the box.
CHAPTER 11
Kyle roamed out of the Green Room as a television producer approached carrying a clipboard.
"This way," she directed.
Kyle followed the twenty-something woman to the set of The Jayne Norris Show.
He had given countless interviews in the month since Wreckless opened. But this interview wouldn’t be like any of those other interviews. Only no one else knew it. And that brought him a sense of peace.
In all of the other interviews, he had parroted Maxine’s talking points, the ones drilled into him for weeks. The words meant nothing as they poured from his mouth, but they worked. Wreckless broke a box office record, earning more than any other movie released in April. The film surpassed any expectations he had about his Hollywood comeback.
Yet all the while, his emails to Summer remained unanswered.
And until he heard something from her, nothing else mattered.
Although he usually hated giving interviews, he welcomed this interview with Jayne Norris, the talk show queen with the top-rated daytime program. Because her show still aired live at a time when nearly all other talks shows taped in advance. So he would be able to carry out his plan.
As he sat in the ivory-colored upholstered arm chair as prod
ucers scurried around him, a feeling of serenity washed over him.
Unfazed by the frenetic energy surrounding him as producers whizzed by, he prepared to take control of his career, and his public image, for the first time.
***
Summer plopped onto the living room sofa and crossed her legs underneath her. She turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, skipping over the game shows, as had become her daily routine in the past month while she waited for word from the Tribune, Charitable Trust Magazine, Good Health newsletter, and countless other publications she had sent her resume to.
The lack of response from any employers proved her worst fear: No one wanted to hire a reporter who had fabricated a story.
And with no offer on her mother’s house either, she remained trapped in Spring Valley.
She glanced at the digital clock on the cable box. 2:56 p.m. She flipped to channel 4.
She hardly missed an episode of Jayne Norris’s show in the past month. She admired Jayne’s journalism skills, and followed her career from cable news anchor to daytime talk show queen. With everything in the media so scripted and rehearsed now, Jayne’s live talk show appealed to Summer.
She jumped up from the sofa and trotted to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. A few minutes later, the kettle whistled and she filled the mug nearly to the rim. She dunked a tea bag in the bubbling water and carried the steaming mug into the living room.
Summer glanced at the television as she approached the coffee table. What is he doing sitting across from Jayne? Kyle’s face flashed on the screen again and Summer stopped in the middle of her living room as a few drops of hot tea spilled onto her fingers. She tottered over to the sofa and set the dripping mug on the coffee table.
Summer had made a point of not watching Kyle’s interviews during his press tour for Wreckless during the past month. She couldn’t bear to watch his career flourish as hers crumbled, because of him. Well, at least partially because of him.
She didn’t resent his success, but she didn’t want to watch it either.
Yet, as Kyle sat propped in the crisp white upholstered chair across from Jayne, she couldn’t turn away from the screen.
Kyle gestured with his hand as he recounted the plot of Wreckless. "So this guy’s wife, a nurse, dies in a car accident caused by drag racers..."
How Summer missed that sound. When she read the emails he sent her in the past month, part of her wished he left her voicemail messages instead, so she could hear his voice again.
Kyle leaned forward. "Jayne, I can’t tell you how much fun it was filming Wreckless. We were all over California. I hadn’t made a film in twelve years, as you know. So it was a real thrill."
Jayne sat propped, with perfect posture. "So tell me more about where you shot Wreckless. Especially those harrowing drag races. How much of it was you? Did you use a stunt double?"
Kyle ran his hands through his hair. "I’d really rather tell you why I hadn’t made a film in twelve years, before Wreckless."
Jayne’s eyebrow rose. "Oh, OK. But your publicist told us the topic was off limits. I’m glad you want to talk about it, though. America has been wondering for a while."
Kyle inhaled. "I do want to talk about it, Jayne."
Summer’s heart raced. He couldn’t be talking about — No, he couldn’t.
Jayne stretched forward and rested her elbows on her knees. "Well, I’m delighted you want to discuss it with me." She sat upright again and rotated her upper body toward the camera. "But first we need to take a commercial break. We’ll be right back. Stay with us."
Summer grabbed the remote from the coffee table and rewound the show to the beginning.
She hadn’t missed much during the first few minutes of the show. Just more about how happy Kyle had been to land the part in Wreckless.
She forwarded back to the live show.
A promo for an upcoming program on the same television channel ran, and then Kyle and Jayne appeared on the screen again.
Jayne sat with her legs crossed at the ankles. "So, before the break, Kyle, you were about to tell us what happened all those years ago. You were an overnight star, in the highest-grossing teen films, even to this day. Those films are still No. 1 and No. 2 in box office sales for the teen romance genre."
Kyle laughed. "That’s still hard for me to believe, Jayne." He fidgeted in his chair. "I was very lucky. I was basically plucked out of my high school by a scout for the studio. I was offered the part in Young Love, and I left Spring Valley, Wisconsin, for LA. I was like a fish out-of-water when I got to Hollywood."
Jayne’s eyes darted as she skimmed over one of the index cards in her hands. "And then you were in Heartbreakers." Her eyes continued to move side to side as she read the information on the card. "It...it came out about two years after Young Love, right?" She held the card in front of her. "Yes, it says here, Heartbreakers beat the box office record you set in the genre with Young Love."
Kyle lowered his head. "No one was more surprised by the success of those films than I was."
Jayne flipped through the rest of the cards in her hands.
Her frazzled state surprised Summer. Had Kyle’s diversion from their pre-arranged questions actually rattled the seasoned interviewer? With all of Jayne’s experience, Summer would have expected her to be more prepared.
Jayne stopped on one of the index cards in her hands and pointed to it. "But there were some rumors during the filming of Heartbreakers, rumors you had a drug problem." Jayne nodded. "Here it is... You were not showing up on set. Variety reported that the studio had to shut down production, and there was speculation you had a drug problem." She lifted her head. "Is that what you’re ready to reveal, you were addicted to drugs at the time?"
Kyle shook his head. "I’ve never had a drug problem."
Jayne twisted toward Kyle. "Oh, well. Of course we’re all so happy to hear that... So what was the reason for your great fall after achieving such success and fame, after getting such a lucky break, as you describe it? What could have possibly dragged you away from Hollywood?"
Summer bristled at Jayne’s snarky tone. Was Jayne trying to make Kyle feel uncomfortable and off-center because he deviated from their agreed-upon questions?
If that was Jayne’s plan, it wasn’t working.
Kyle remained calm and steady.
He cleared his throat and angled his torso toward the studio audience. "Twelve years ago, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s. I had cancer, and I was going through chemo when we were shooting Heartbreakers."
Summer’s mouth dropped opened as she heard the studio audience let out a collective gasp.
Why would he reveal that on national television? Summer wondered. She never expected him to reveal his cancer diagnosis publicly. Ever.
Jayne turned pale as she patted down a stray fly-away hair. "Kyle, I’m so sorry you went through that. Why didn’t you reveal your diagnosis at the time?"
Kyle tilted his head to the side. "I should have. But I was afraid studios wouldn’t hire me." His voice grew louder. "I also didn’t want to be seen as sick."
"I can understand that," Jayne said. She grew silent as seconds ticked by.
Summer waited for the return of the staccato, machine-gun-style questions everyone had come to expect from Jayne. But Jayne didn’t say a word.
Kyle cleared his throat. "So..." He hesitated. "I wanted to keep working."
Summer breathed a sigh of relief as Kyle jumped in to get the interview back on track.
"I was young and thought I could do it all," he continued as he glanced at Jayne. "I thought I could keep my diagnosis a secret and keep working. But it didn’t quite happen that way. Because I didn’t explain the reason I was showing up late on Heartbreakers, I damaged my reputation in the industry. And plenty of other twenty-year-old actors were ready and willing to step in and take those roles."
Jayne leaned forward. "So why reveal it all now? Why did you decide to publicly share this information today? Why finally discuss your cancer diagnosis, just as your career is taking off again?"
Ah, there she is. Machine-gun Jayne has returned, Summer thought.
Kyle angled toward the studio audience. "My perception is different today. I don’t see a cancer diagnosis as a sign of weakness anymore. And I’m not concerned about how it will affect my career. If studios don’t want to work with me because my health condition is seen as too risky financially, I’m fine with that. But there is another reason I wanted to go public."
Jayne’s eyebrow rose. "Oh..."
Kyle gestured with an open palm. "As you might be aware, I was living in Spring Valley, Wisconsin, for the past few months, before Wreckless opened. The newspaper there, the Observer, wrote some articles about me."
Jayne nodded. "Yes. One article in particular has received a lot of attention recently. Is it true that a reporter concocted a story about a cousin of yours who died of Hodgkin’s? Seems she was trying to make a name for herself, using your celebrity status to do it."
Summer’s heart raced. She took a long, deep breath.
Kyle held up his hand. "That’s actually not true at all, Jayne. And that’s why I wanted to come here today, to clear things up. Summer Madison, the reporter at the Observer, didn’t make up the story. I did. I made it up."
The camera zoomed in on Jayne as she tilted her head. "So you’re saying the reporter didn’t make up the story?"
Summer stiffened.
Kyle stared into the camera. "Summer Madison did not make up the story. I’m responsible for everything she wrote in the article. I told her all of it because I was afraid to publicly reveal the truth about my illness. Summer trusted me and she fully believed I was telling her the truth when I said I had a cousin who died of Hodgkin’s. That was her only mistake, trusting me."
Jayne rifled through the cards in her hand. "Well, Kyle, I am certainly surprised by this revelation —"
Kyle reached out his arm to get Jayne’s attention. "I just need people to know it was not Summer Madison’s fault. That’s why I’m here. To let people know I allowed Summer to publish the article knowing full well the information was false. I’m really sorry my lapse in judgment has impacted her so much."
