She nodded. “Pretty much. As long as they say they got their information from a source,” she drew quotes in the air, “they can write whatever they want.”
“That’s wrong. And screwed up. I don’t like it.” I found myself getting defensive of her innocence again. Imagining Paige at only seventeen years old, dealing with that kind of thing, made my blood run hot.
“It was horrible. Those reports. Those lies. They broke up a marriage. And for what? It wasn’t even true. It wasn’t even close to true.” Her lip started to tremble, and I knew I’d lose it if she cried.
Please don’t cry.
“The guy’s wife didn’t believe him?”
“No. And I even talked to her. Here I was, little teenage Paige going up to this grown woman, trying to tell her nothing happened and that I would never do something like that. You know what she said to me?”
“What?”
Paige sniffed. “She said, ‘That’s what I used to say too. We all do things to get ahead in this business, Paige. He might have been your first, but I’m sure he won’t be your last. Enjoy your career.’”
“What a bitch,” I snarled.
She chuckled. “I should have needed therapy after that fiasco.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
Her face finally softened, and the Paige I was growing to adore was back. “It was a long time ago. But thanks.”
“Random question,” I said as more thoughts filled my mind. She tilted her head, giving me the silent okay to continue. “Did you ever think about suing them? Can you sue the tabloids?”
“That’s one of the worst parts. You can sue a tabloid or a news outlet, but all the obligation is on you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, like we just talked about, they can pretty much say and write whatever they want to sell papers, advertising, however it is they make their money. They can do whatever they want. But if I wanted to defend myself in court, I would have to prove that their words caused me to lose money. Like if they defamed my character, I would have to prove that their defamation cost me. Either I stopped getting job offers, or I lost roles I was up for. Things like that. But I would have to prove that all those things happened because of the articles and claims made by them. Gosh, am I making any sense at all?”
“You’re making sense, but the situation doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know. They can print complete and utter lies, defame my character, and I can’t really do anything about it. I have a publicist and she puts out the fires if necessary, but that whole affair thing. God, I wanted to sue. I wanted them to stop. But I didn’t lose work because of it. Only sleep, tears, pride, self-worth. Nothing that stands up in a court of law.”
“It shouldn’t be like that. They shouldn’t be allowed to do that kind of stuff.”
“But it makes them so much money, why would they ever stop?”
Frowning, I admitted, “I’m starting to get angry, Paige.”
“Don’t. It’s not worth it. I’ve been doing this long enough that I’ve got it under control, for the most part. They don’t say many bad things about me. I’m lucky in that regard.”
“Lucky? You don’t do anything for them to talk about. You don’t do anything wrong.”
“I know. And that’s exactly why. There hadn’t been anything dramatic written until—”
“Until Douchepants cheated on you.” I finished her thought for her, and she lowered her head.
“Yeah. That was mortifying. Is”—she looked at me—“is mortifying.”
I leaned toward her, placing my hand on her knee. “He’s an idiot.”
“True,” she said with a smile.
“Do you miss him?” It was another loaded question, but this detail was more recent. Forget my simply wanting to know…I needed to know.
“Missing him is the easy part. I don’t. At all. We were both so busy and rarely in the same place at the same time, that there isn’t really a lot to miss. I’m more angry at myself, to be honest. I feel like I was a complete idiot and I should have known better.”
I nodded. “That’s how I feel about Brina. Like I should have known she was just using me the whole time.”
“How could you have known something like that?”
“How could you?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted with a little shrug. “I just feel like I should have.”
“Me too.”
We stayed silent for a minute, maybe more, letting the similarities of our experiences sink in. At least, that was what I was doing. I’d never expected us to have much of anything in common, but I was learning how wrong I was.
“Will you tell me what happened with your dad?”
I sucked in a breath. Was I ready to head down this road? If I didn’t drive down it now with her, when would I? Talking about this would never be an easy conversation to have, but I wanted to be open with Paige. She needed to know this side of me, and understand the moment that had altered my life.
“I came home for Thanksgiving break. Mama had dinner ready, and we were waiting on my dad to come home. He was late and wasn’t answering the phone, so Mama asked me to run to the shop and go get him.”
I looked away from Paige’s eyes, staring firmly at the wall behind her before meeting them again. Reliving that day hurt like hell, but I’d do it for her. My throat felt thick and it was hard to swallow, but I continued.
“I pulled my truck up to the shop and saw all the lights on. Thinking everything was okay, I yelled for him to wrap it up and come home to eat before Mama killed him. The music was playing and Buster was whining, but my dad didn’t respond. I walked through the office and into the garage when I saw him lying there. The truck he had been working on had fallen off the jack and was lying right on top of his body. All I could see were his legs and a pool of blood.”
I lowered my head and started shaking it back and forth. “I didn’t know what to do, so I tried to lift the truck. Like with my bare hands. I tried to tried to get it off of his body, but it wouldn’t budge. I screamed for him, shouted his name, but he didn’t move. I fell to my knees at the front of the car to see if I could pull him out somehow, but that was when I saw that his chest was crushed and a piece of metal had pierced through his stomach. That’s where all the blood came from. I knew he was gone, but I refused to believe it and I didn’t want my mama to see him like that, so I ran to Doc Tracy’s house. I don’t even remember running there, but apparently I did. I don’t remember most of what happened after, but my God, Paige. I wish every day it didn’t happen. I wish every day that I’d gone to check on him sooner.”
Paige reached out and intertwined her fingers with mine. Squeezing them, she brought my knuckles to her lips and placed a kiss against them before bringing my hand to her lap and holding on tight.
“Doc Tracy said there wasn’t anything that I could have done. That he most likely died instantly, but those words never seem to make a difference. You can hear them a hundred times, but your brain refuses to believe it. What if I’d shown up ten minutes earlier? What if Buster had run home to get me, like the damn dogs do in movies? What if, what if, what if…” My voice drifted off as the pain came crushing back.
Paige squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry, Tatum. I’m so sorry that you lost your dad like that, and that you were the one to find him.”
“I’m glad it was me and not Mama. I don’t think she could have ever recovered from seeing him like that. The funeral was bad enough.”
“So after he died, you never went back to school?” She adjusted herself on the couch and sat up straighter against the back.
I sighed. “I went back. But only to quit the football team, drop my classes, and get my stuff.” She nodded as if my words resonated deep within her. “What are you thinking?” I asked.