“Tell us, Danny, are you still engaged to Amber Sheppard, yes or no?” Cathy Keeler asks, like she’s Oprah getting a doping confession from Lance Armstrong.
“No,” Danny says, assuming a penitent pose.
They’re sitting on Cathy Keeler’s “confession dais,” as it’s generally referred to. This is where the notorious and famous come to confess their sins and—if tough-as-nails Cathy decides to grant absolution—to be forgiven. I had my own turn on the dais after I got out of rehab, back when I still thought confession was good for the soul/career. It didn’t work out that way, obviously. And I’m guessing this episode isn’t going to do wonders for my career either.
“Is she pregnant with your child, yes or no?”
“No.”
The audience of fifty-something women leans in. Danny’s speaking slowly, quietly, as if he’s on some kind of sedative.
Cathy Keeler’s bottle-red hair shines under the bright arc lights. Her matching red nails are a tad short of talon length. “So then, Danny, I have to ask. Were you ever a real couple or was this all just some publicity stunt?”
“Things were real for me. You’d have to ask Amber how she felt.”
“Now, come on, Danny, you must have some idea?”
“I think maybe she was just using me.”
Someone in the audience emits a shocked tsk. Cathy Keeler, on the other hand, looks like she isn’t shocked at all. And no doubt she isn’t, given how she’s always expecting the worst and teaching her audience of millions to do the same.
Oh, Danny. Please don’t do this.
“Now, I know this might be a bit hard for you to talk about, but did you ever see Amber drink or use drugs?”
Danny covers his eyes with his hand like the question hurts him. He’s a much better actor than I’ve ever given him credit for.
“Yes,” he says.
“Yes? Both?”
He lowers his hand and nods.
“You’ve seen her use drugs? Was it crack again?”
“I’d rather not say,” he answers. And by saying that, he’s essentially confirming it.
The giant screen behind him flickers and there I am, sucking on a crack pipe in the video that was viewed by millions within days of its release. I’ve never allowed myself to watch it, but I remember the night like it was yesterday. I don’t need a video to remind me of the dank room, the awful smells, the way my heart felt as if it would explode. The way I knew I might be dying and I didn’t even care.
The camera pans to the audience smiling warmly at Danny, their approval clear. Such a good, honest boy, led astray by such a bad, bad girl.
Everyone knows Cathy Keeler only talks to victims.
“Danny, do you think Amber was still secretly dating Connor Parks while you were together?”
He hesitates. “She was still in love with him, yes.”
“Did you know she was seeing him that night?”
“No.”
Danny looks miserable, and Cathy Keeler reaches out to take his hand. The audience holds its collective breath. Everyone knows what’s coming.
“So tell us, Danny, why have you come on the show tonight?”
“Because I . . . I want Amber to get help. I still care for her and . . .” He hangs his head in shame. And it might be real. Maybe Cathy Keeler’s his rehab from me, and when the stage lights dim, he’ll be able to walk away clean, leaving me behind.
There’s a click and the sounds goes off.
“Well, this is fan-fucking-tastic,” Bernard says, throwing the remote aside. “Fan. Fucking. Tastic. Seriously, Amber, if you tried harder, I don’t think you could fuck this up any worse.”
“I could get caught smoking crack again,” I say in a slightly hopeful tone. Not because I want to smoke crack, at least not today, but because I’m worried Bernard’s going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t calm down, and I can’t remember how to perform CPR.
“Oh, would you, please? That’d be a huge help.”
“You’ve got to relax, Bernard.”
“Sure, right. Relax.”
He holds his hand to his chest and breathes in and out through his nose.
“Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance?”
“I’m having a heart attack, but not, you know, of the medical kind.”
“Jeez, Bernard.”
“Since you’re the cause of it, you should be a tiny bit more sympathetic.”
“You can blame me for a lot of things, but not this, okay? He’s the one who broke up with me. I obviously had no idea he was going to go on Cathy Keeler and tell the world about it.”
“What is that little bastard thinking?”
“He’s hurt.”
“Yeah, so, go drink yourself into a stupor or tell it to your therapist. You don’t go on Cathy Keeler and lie about my client.”
Now it’s my turn to look at the floor. “He didn’t lie.”
“Excuse me?”
“He was telling the truth. Mostly.”
“So you’re telling me you’re drinking again? Doing drugs?”
“No.”
“Then what the—”
“—One time, at his house, after an awards show, I woke up and my back went into a complete spasm. Probably because of these crazy heels I was wearing. Anyway, he gave me something. He said it was a muscle relaxant, but when he gave me the bottle, I could tell it wasn’t over-the-counter. I was in so much pain I didn’t ask what it was, and I didn’t care. But that’s the only time since I left the Oasis. I swear.”
“And the drinking?”
“His parents threw us an engagement dinner, and they were toasting us with champagne, and everyone was saying things like, ‘Oh, come on, Amber, one little sip of champagne can’t hurt.’ It felt like some kind of test. You know, could she have just one sip and nothing more? I was so sick of it, and I wanted his parents to like me, so I did it and I smiled for the picture, and then I went to the bathroom and spat it out.”
“You’re telling me there’s a picture of you with a champagne glass at your lips?”
“His sister has it. But she wouldn’t—”
“—We have no idea what she would or wouldn’t do. What about the rest of it? And where’s Olivia? Why isn’t she here dealing with this shit?”
“We’re not speaking.”
“Brilliant. Do I even want to know?”
“I don’t even want to know.”
“Moving on.”
“I wasn’t with Connor when I was with Danny, but I was still in love with him, of course I was. I’ll always be in love with him.”
He looks like he’s about to launch into another speech, then stops as something on the television catches his attention. Danny’s finished with his confessional, and now Cathy Keeler’s posed in front of a screen filled with private photographs of my life. I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I grab the remote and turn up the volume.
“ . . . I was contacted today by Amber Sheppard’s parents. They have some shocking revelations to share, so tune in tomorrow. You definitely don’t want to miss tomorrow’s show.”
Bernard tips his head into his hands. “My plan, my beautiful plan.”
My life. My lost, lost life.