Page 125 of The Golden Scoop

Spending time with Matt meant confronting this in real time. I found out he’s shy. That he chooses honesty even when it cost him. Humble even when no one’s watching. This man is thoughtful to his core. And somehow, no one knew this.

That’s the article I tried to write. A reflection of Matt Hunt in his day-to-day. From jumping off buildings on camera, to helping an old lady carry groceries to her car when there isn’t one.

We tend to assume just because someone’s easy to like on screen—good presence, a charming smile—it must be who they are when the cameras turn off. This taught me how rarely that’s true. The story quickly turned from uncovering something hidden, to acknowledging what’s been there all along, ignored.

None of it was deemed useful for a print feature. To me, it still matters. More than anything I’ve written before.

It made me wonder how many other things hide beneath the surface. I tried to fight for it. I lost. Got cornered into writing something I hadn’t experienced. Something that isn’t true.

Now you’re probably thinking… so who really is behind the mask? Who is Matt Hunt?

Matt Hunt is not the man headlines try to sell. Honestly, I could write a whole other article about that. I could tell you he’s thoughtful. That he’d rather stay home playing board games than go out to party. That I couldn’t stand the guy, and I still ended up caring about him more than I’ll ever admit to his face. He’s easy to love.

The list could go on, but there’s no need. Because what you should be asking yourself is: how much of what you read is tweaked before you consume it? How much damage are you doing by believing it?

Matt Hunt?

He’s just a man. A real one. That should’ve been enough all along.

TWENTY-NINE

Emma

It’s gone viral?

Another buzz comes in. I’m still somewhat disoriented. The screen is flooding with notifications faster than it can keep up. There are thousands of comments, likes, and shares across all of my social media platforms. My blog entry has been read shy of a million times. It’s surreal.

The article is everywhere. People are quoting it in their own posts, debating over the ethics of celebrity press, even praising me—me—for writing such an honest piece. It’s almost as if I accidentally started a small revolution. A couple of the top newspapers, even the Los Angeles Times, have reached out asking for an interview. The comments are full of experiences others have had that don’t line up with the industry narrative.

@calicoast8: I needed this. One of my closest friends is somewhat in the public eye. He’s been surrounded and attacked by fake rumors for years. It’s refreshing to finally see someone say something about it. You’ve inspired me to speak up.

This is good. I might be without a job as of today, but at least it’s making a difference. One person feels empowered, and that’s enough.

It is.

I should be happy.

Except… he’s not here.

There are no messages waiting in my inbox. No missed calls. Nothing.

Matt doesn’t owe me anything. I know that. Doesn’t stop the small, stubborn spark of hope living in my chest. The one that thought once the article was out, he’d finally see me. Without my own mask.

It’s not hard to put myself in his shoes. I disappointed him. I lied. Maybe not in the way Martha was pushing me too, but I still lied. Even if I never meant any harm, intentions don’t erase consequences. And regardless of whether he forgives me, I was never going to let him take the fall for something that was a complete disregard of the truth.

There’s nothing like living through what might be one of the most defining moments of your life and realizing the only person you want to tell is the one person you can’t call.

Cruella De Vil’s soundtrack starts playing from my phone, and Martha’s name spreads across the screen. She never calls. Emails are typical. Texts are important. Calls might be executions…

Who am I kidding?

I’m definitely fired.

“I need you to come in,” Martha says as soon as I pick up.

“Good morning to you too,” I answer. Can she not fire me over the phone? Save me the commute at least.

“I expect you in my office in an hour.”