by Nancy Adams
But Jenna merely kept her head down as the bodyguards whisked her inside the building, something that Gary had been explicit about in his advising her. It was lucky that she was wearing a rather large black pair of Gucci sunglasses, otherwise the flashbulbs being directly let off in her face would have blinded her.
Having run through it all, the bodyguards using their enormous frames to create a pathway, she had gotten inside.
Now, as the elevator doors were opening into the building’s lobby, she was readying herself to run through it again, this time in order to leave. Waiting for her directly outside the elevator were the two guards from before. Through the tinted glass facade of the building, she could see countless reporters and photographers pressed against the outside, all trying to get a look in, the building’s security overwhelmed.
“We’re waiting for a go to leave, Mrs. Blackwell,” one of the guards said to her, an earpiece dangling from his ear. “So if you’ll just sit tight for a moment.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“The cars are just turning around. Someone got wind that Sam was in one of them so they’re attempting to lose some of the heat before returning.”
A few minutes later, Jenna got the go-ahead and her heart began to race as she prepared herself to leave the building, a baying horde of barbarian reporters outside smelling her blood. When the doors were flung open, a cascade of flashbulbs and questions, scrambling voices, scrambling people, were thrown at her. The bodyguards took an arm each and with their other arms pushed out at the mass. Outside, the remaining bodyguards emerged from the Hummers and pushed through from the other side. For a moment, Jenna was completely surrounded by press, the bodyguards fighting to get space on either side of her, the reporters pushing their cameras and their microphones in her face. She began to panic, thinking herself hopeless and trapped within them, being devoured by an ocean of swarming bodies, a complete disregard for her privacy. A complete disregard for her.
Suddenly a hand broke through and one of the bodyguards grabbed ahold of Jenna and pulled her out. Everything went in a whir from then on and Jenna found herself thrown into a Hummer, into someone’s delicate arms, the screech of tires and the jolt of the backseat. She began looking about her in a daze and looked up to see the soft, warm face of Sam.
Realizing it was him, she reached her arms out and took ahold of him tightly, throwing her head into his chest, Sam enveloping her with all the warmth he could offer. She immediately burst into tears and Sam felt so sorry for her then. Everything in his world was up for grabs, it seemed. Jenna had entered that world only seven weeks before and already her career was in tatters and she was being hounded to the ends of the Earth. It would have been the same for Claire, he realized. Heck, he’d realized it back then, and it had been one of the main reasons why he had ceased to have anything to do with her life.
But now poor Jenna had been destroyed and Sam said to himself, as he held her dearly in the back of the car, that he would protect her forever, from now on. He vowed to put things right for her and return her to happiness. Starting with the interview with Oprah. He would open his heart on live television, talk about Marya and how Jenna was helping him overcome it, how he hadn’t been expecting to fall in love, but how she had enchanted him.
CHAPTER NINE
Sam and Jenna soon arrived at the television studios and the gates closed behind them, closing out the horde of hungry media that littered the streets surrounding the place. The Hummers quickly parked up outside the studio entrance and several television assistants awaited them, ushering them immediately inside and whisking them straight into makeup. It was now half-past five. The hearing had taken over two hours—Jenna having to go through the ignobility of having the panel read out all their evidence against her as she nodded and agreed, before having to then give her own side of things.
Sitting in makeup next to Jenna, both of them in front of huge mirrors surrounded by lights, Sam stuck his hand out to her. She instantly took it, both hands trembling. They turned to face each other, glimmering nervous smiles at the other.
“You ready for this?” Sam asked her.
“Are you?” she retorted.
“Not really, but this has to be done.”
Jenna simply smiled.
When the makeup team reached them, Jenna’s girl frowned slightly when she saw that Jenna had been crying and her mascara was running slightly.
“Ooh!” she exclaimed with pursed lips. “We’re gonna have to sort that sad face, Mrs. Blackwell.”
The team went to work on the pair and, as they did, Oprah came over and introduced herself to them. Of course, she already knew Jenna and the two chatted warmly for a moment. The presence of the legend of television did nothing to help Sam’s nerves and he became even more trepidatious with her being there. It was the same when he and Marya had done the chat show circuit in the early nineties after Techsoft had been valued as the wealthiest company on the stock exchange. They were both only twenty-two at the time, but had already conquered the world through Sam’s genius and Marya’s drive.
Indeed, they’d done Oprah back in ninety-two, but when Oprah mentioned it to him now, Sam felt he was only able to shrug and mutter something to the affirmative.
“You’re sweating a little, Mr. Burgess,” his makeup woman remarked.
“Sorry,” he replied in a trembling voice, “it’s these lights.”
“Let me turn them down,” she replied, twisting a knob on the table that dimmed them.
“Thank you,” Sam mumbled.
Oprah left and soon the makeup team were finished and it was time for Sam and Jenna to face the cameras. As they walked toward the studio entrance, Jenna took Sam’s shaking hand and they walked together into the brightly lit studio. An assistant came by them both and fixed a mic to them. After that, they were guided onto a couch. The whole time, Sam was in a daze and simply did as he was told. It would be the first televised interview that he’d given in nearly five years and to add to that, it was going to be an awfully revealing one about his personal life.
Oprah came and took a chair opposite them and smiled, telling them not to worry, that it was going to be okay and that they would be able to get their side of things out there. On the coffee table in front of them someone placed two glasses and a jug of water. Sam immediately reached for the jug and poured himself a glass. He then picked the water up with a trembling hand and began slugging it down his dry throat. When he finished, he placed the glass down on the table.
“I’m sorry,” he said turning to Jenna who sat beside him, “did you want one?”
“Please,” she replied with a crooked smile.
Sam poured her a glass and then himself another. When he’d finished, Jenna took his hand in his own and the two entwined their fingers.
“Thank you, Sam,” Jenna said softly to him.
“For what?”
“For doing this for me. I know how much of a mental strain it must be for you.”
“It’s something I’ve got to get used to.”
“Okay, guys,” the set director said to them. “We’re live in thirty seconds.”
Everyone began rushing about around them and the couple began to settle themselves into the couch, Oprah already as calm as an ocean.
“Ten…nine…eight…” The set director continued down to one. “And we’re live.”
“I’m joined here this evening,” Oprah began, looking into the camera with a solemn expression, “by Sam Burgess and Jenna Blackwell. Recently there have been many spurious reports on the two…”
As he sat there, Sam zoned out and Oprah’s voice became a distant echo. His heart was racing and he felt the drips of perspiration tumbling down his temples.
“So firstly,” Oprah continued, turning to face Jenna, “I’d like to talk to Jenna first. Jenna what have you got to say to some of the extremely personal allegations that have been made against you?”
“What does one say?” Jenna began. “When they are
being written and talked about in such libelously terrible terms. Apart from one videotape that was illegally obtained from someone hacking into Sam’s home security, the press have had nothing but a few statements gathered from unreliable sources, as well as a little background material they’ve gathered on me. They know nothing of what’s actually happened and so they’ve filled in the gaps with their own scandalous imaginations.”
“So what is the truth?” Oprah put to her. “What are the facts?”
“The facts are that myself and Sam found each other like so many millions of people find each other every year. We fell in love. This isn’t, as the press would call it, some get-rich-quick scheme by me. I didn’t see working with Sam as an opportunity to sell a story. I’m a writer as well as a psychiatrist, but as you know Oprah, all my books are about my field of expertise: the psychological effects of spousal loss. I have never written a book about love affairs with billionaire celebrities. Why would I risk my career to publish a few tell-all stories? A career, by the way, that took me twelve years to build and only five minutes to destroy.”
“Sam,” Oprah said, facing him, “what do you say to the press, who appear to see Jenna as, and I’m quoting here, ‘a devious usurper with desires for the fame, wealth and power of Sam Burgess’?”
“Well,” Sam stuttered, “I…eh…look, Oprah, my relationship with Jenna wasn’t something that she put on me. It wasn’t something that I was hypnotized into. It was something that mutually developed between us. You can’t fake those kinds of feelings, you can’t install them into another. There is nothing fake about how we feel together. The real victim of this all is Jenna. Someone broke into my home security system, stole very sensitive and private footage, and then circulated it around the world through some seedy pornographer. And the world just eats it up!”
“But many reports that have been written in the past week,” Oprah said, “have stated that you’re mentally unwell at this moment, that the effects of your wife’s death have hit you extremely hard, the fact that she was your only real link to the outside world, that you don’t have any friends outside of a professional basis, that your car crash was proof of your fragile state.”
“And what is your point on all of this?” Sam asked slightly indignantly.
“Well,” Oprah said gazing into his eyes, “couldn’t someone with expertise in psychologically possibly make a vulnerable person fall in love?”
“That’s preposterous, Oprah,” Sam laughed. “I mean, really! Are you saying that Jenna hypnotized me?”
Oprah smiled and said, “Not exactly, Sam. I’m only following up what’s been written lately—”
“All of it bullshit,” Sam snapped.
Jenna, feeling the tension and anger that was rising up in Sam, squeezed his hand in an attempt to pull him back. She could see that the whole process of questioning was making his defensive. Feeling his hand, Sam glanced at Jenna and her nervous, soft look calmed him.
“I’m sorry,” he said turning back to Oprah. “I’m sorry for swearing just now.”
“It’s okay, Sam,” Oprah said gently. “You’ve a right to feel angered. I’m just trying to seek a response to some of the accusations that are floating around at the moment.”
“Look, it’s like Jenna said a moment ago. The tape came out and then some tabloids came out and lied that Jenna had approached them. Both of these tabloids are currently in contact with my lawyers. They have until the end of this week to come up with incontrovertible evidence that Jenna went to see them, or they must print the same front page article for a whole week stating that they lied. If not, then I’ll sue them out of business.”
“But taking on the press, isn’t that a little counterproductive?”
“I believe in a free and fair press like the next guy. But when they lie, I can’t stand back and allow hearsay and deception to become the public’s reality.”
“But what about the many news journals and television news channels that have printed or shown stills from the infamous sex tape? Are you planning on pursuing them too?”
“No. The person that circulated the tape has committed a crime and the police are looking into that. However, the tape, I guess, was not a lie and is the only piece of reality to come out of this all so far.”
“Until tonight,” Oprah suggested.
“I hope so,” Sam replied.
“Okay, now Jenna,” Oprah said, turning back to her, “as we’ve already established, there’s a lot of rumor-acting-as-truth surrounding your relationship with Sam. So to give our viewers more of an insight into how you got together, can you give us a timetable of your relationship?”
“Of course, Oprah,” Jenna said confidently. “I first found out that I would be visiting Sam three weeks before I did. Techsoft contacted me and asked how soon I could see him. I told them that it would take three weeks because I had to rearrange my patient list to accommodate the month away and that meant I would probably be busy seeing them before I could get away.”
“Because this is the infamous three weeks that the L.A. Times and OK! claim that you secretly met with both of their editors.”
“Yes, it is. But most of that time I was either seeing patients or working on my latest book.”
“So what happened when you arrived at Sam’s?”
“Well,” Jenna said widening her eyes, “what is there to tell? The moment I saw Sam in the flesh I was taken by his handsome beauty. However, I immediately put it to one side as I was there to do a professional job. After all, he was my patient.”
“If I can stop you for a moment, Jenna,” Oprah suddenly butted in before turning to Sam. “Sam,” she continued, “what was your first impressions of Jenna?”
“Beautiful,” Sam said as he gazed dreamily forward. “Her perfume…well…”
“What about her perfume, Sam?” Oprah inquired.
Sam turned sharply to Oprah and shook his head.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said apologetically. “I found her enchanting is all.”
“If I can just return to Jenna,” Oprah went on, returning her smiling gaze back to the woman. “Jenna, tell me what those first days at Sam’s isolated reserve were like?”
“Like you say—isolated! Just the two of us there all day. In the mornings we would eat breakfast looking out over the valley, then have a session and after that we’d walk all over the reserve. Because of Sam’s accident, he was walking a lot to build strength back up in his legs. I’ve always been a keen walker, so I would come with him. We would often walk for four or five hours around the beautiful nature, through forests, along rivers, up on top of hills overlooking the beautiful area.”
“All sounds very romantic,” Oprah added.
“It was,” Jenna affirmed.
“So when did you begin to have feelings for Sam?”
“The more I learned about Sam, the more I found myself irresistibly drawn to him. Plus, he could be so sweet, really pay attention to me. I found myself talking more to him than him to me once our sessions were over. When I’d first arrived, I was sure that once our sessions were finished and I’d observed him for an hour during the day, then our time together would be over. But while I was there we shared almost every moment of our spare time together. I would wake early in the morning and go down to the kitchen in the hope that he would be down there having his coffee. I yearned to be in this man’s company.”
“And was it the same for you, Sam?” Oprah asked turning to him.
“Of course. It had only been seven months since Marya had gone and I certainly wasn’t expecting to find love. I was in a dark place, I’ll admit. Probably not as bleak and desolate a place as most of your viewers may have read about recently. But it was a bad place, as anyone who’s experienced the loss of a partner will tell you. When Jenna came into my life, I felt like an olive branch was being offered to my soul, a light switched on at the bottom of a well. Each day of her stay with me at the Cliff Face made me fall for her just that little bit more, until I
had to admit to myself that I was in love.”
Oprah sat smiling at them both for a moment, allowing her audience to savor this last piece of sentimental speech from Sam.
“Okay,” the queen of TV continued, “now about this infamous tape that got smuggled out of Sam’s house. I know that it was a terrible invasion of privacy for you both, but tell me how it made you feel? Jenna, you first.”
“Well, mmm,” Jenna said stumbling a little with what she wanted to say, her mind cast back to that awful time sitting in Bormann’s lounge when he switched on the recording, “the first…mmm…thing to say…”
Sam removed his hand from hers and placed it around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. Tears began to well up in Jenna’s eyes as she thought of all people out there watching her in one of the most intimate moments in anyone’s life: making love to her partner. A million eyes breaking into that special, private moment. Oprah took a box of tissues from a table beside her and handed them across to Jenna. She took one and began wiping her eyes.
“I guess the first thing to say,” Jenna whimpered, as she soaked up the tears, “is that I felt completely violated—like my relationship with Sam, my private life, had been bust into and thrown over to everyone. Making love to your partner is an intimate, deeply private moment. You don’t expect it to be witnessed by the public. And then, if that wasn’t enough, the media begin circulating completely false and unproven stories about me. I felt as if I didn’t matter and that all I was was a character in other people’s tales. Like my love for Sam was worthless.”
“And you, Sam,” Oprah said turning to him, “how did it make you feel?”
“Like Jenna, I too felt that a deeply private moment had been desecrated by someone invading my home and circulating it for all to see. Thus, attempting to ruin our lives. This isn’t in the public interest. It’s our private lives. None of this affects anyone but us. People have violated our lives for nothing more than their own gain. The media have spread falsehoods and outright lies, causing irreparable defamation to both of our characters, in order to do no more than sell advertising space and further their own interests.”
