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“I was her father. I should have known, for Christ’s sake!”
His raised voice echoes off the walls before the silence rushes in, all the louder after his outburst. The shock in his expression tells me he’s kept that guilt locked up for years.
“You can’t protect someone from everything.” I keep my voice low but sure. “That’s not living. Living comes with inherent risks. The trick is to make sure you’re taking the right risks for the right reasons.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Finally he clears his throat. “For you, this is the right risk, and Kendall is the right reason?”
I look him straight in the eye. “Even if it drives another nail into the coffin of my career, this is the right risk. Even if nothing I do changes Kendall’s mind about taking a risk on me. But it means a lot to know I’m taking this risk with you on my side.”
“Always,” he says with gratifying speed. “If I haven’t mentioned it lately, I love you, and I’m always on your side. I meant what I said about supporting your decisions rather than making them for you. I’m on this.”
“Thanks, Dad.” For the first time in a long time, the sentiment is heartfelt.
…
The morning following the funeral, social media posts concerning the event have gained almost as much notice as the video. My publicist is working overtime to field calls on both. Neither Kendall nor I are being given a break, but I’m sick to my stomach to see she’s being dealt the bigger blow. I’m ashamed of the pedestal women are putting me on, cutting me slack when I’m the one who dragged Kendall—unintentionally—into this media freak show.
It’s killing me to keep my distance from her. My fingers itch to dial her number or text her to say I’m sorry for bringing her deepest fear down on her. I’m thankful she’s got her parents while at the same time mad as hell I’m not the one there to shoulder her pain. She asked me to stay away, and I’m abiding by the request, but she didn’t ask me to keep my thoughts about her to myself.
Hence, Plan B. Will Kendall watch? If she does, will anything I say change her mind? I don’t know. All I know is I’ve got to give this my best shot. She deserves nothing less.
Sitting on a comfortable couch on the set of Access Live, I watch a tech adjust studio lights while a makeup artist does last-minute touch-ups to ready Kit for the camera. Thanks to my dad’s connections, she was more than happy to set up an interview today. Although she’s been as congenial as always, I know she’s not going to pull any punches once the camera starts rolling. She’s got me in the hot seat, she’s done her homework, and if there’s dirt to dish she’s going to make sure Access Live gets the first and biggest shovelful.
Makeup finished, Kit looks up and gives me a smile. “We ready?” she asks to the room in general. The segment producer responds in the affirmative, and seconds later we’re rolling. She does a short intro spiel and then lobs me a softball question about how it feels to be part of last week’s number one most viewed music video.
I tell her I learned the news midway through a photo shoot in San Francisco, when Laney called me screaming a bunch of stuff they’d have to bleep if I quoted her word for word, but she was really excited and very cool to share the credit with me. I’m pleased people liked the video and stoked for Laney, because her first single is amazing, but it’s just the start. The rest of the album is going to blow peoples’ minds.
“Can we look forward to seeing you in more videos with our newest America Rocks winner?” Kit asks. Her smile and twinkling eyes invite me to divulge things we both know I’m not at liberty to discuss.
“You’ll have to wait to see,” I say with a smile.
“Vaughn, we’re terrible at waiting. After receiving that good news in San Francisco I understand you traveled to a small town in Wisconsin.” Kit tips her head slightly, and adds, “Was that for a new video by any chance?”
Obviously no, and she’s well aware, but this is her way of leading into the real reason for this interview. I imagine when the segment airs, this is where they’ll flash one of the internet pictures of Kendall and me embracing. “My visit to Lake Geneva was personal,” I respond. “I went to support my friend Kendall, who lost a close friend after a long battle with injuries following an accident.”
Kit nods, her normally perky expression serious. “Your friend Kendall Hewitt, who was driving while intoxicated when she crashed the vehicle and inflicted severe brain trauma that ultimately killed her passenger, Mason White.”
I nod. “She made a terrible mistake at seventeen, and it had tragic consequences. It’s an all too common mistake, statistically speaking. According to the most recent reports from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, over a third of fatal motor vehicle crashes among people aged sixteen to twenty involve alcohol, and that statistic doesn’t change much for drivers over the age of twenty. Ever heard the saying ‘There but for the grace of God go I?’”
“Of course.”
“Nobody got much of God’s grace that night when two teens climbed into a car after attending prom, but Kendall’s spent every day since then ensuring nobody else makes the same mistake while she’s around. Including me.”
Kit leans forward. “She stopped you from driving under the influence? That’s an interesting statement, especially considering I recently viewed a video that appears to show you in a drunken exchange with a woman many speculate to be Ms. Hewitt, after losing control of your vehicle.”
And this is where they’ll cut to the YouTube video. I own up to my mistakes, no sugarcoating. I explain our story, to the extent I can. My lawyer has weighed in on things like how I can’t say Becca stole my car while intoxicated and almost killed me without risking a defamation lawsuit. Plus she contacted me, genuinely distraught, and assured me she didn’t release the video. Her friend did, in a sick way of supporting Becca over our “breakup.” So instead, I explain that an unidentified person or persons helped themselves to my car and took a joyride down my driveway, nearly hitting me before losing control, stalling in a hedge, and abandoning it—which sounds like a load of crap, but it’s the best I can do. I explain how Kendall risked her life to prevent me from getting run down. How she confiscated my keys when I tried to get behind the wheel to move my car. How by doing that, she reminded me there is no situation where it’s okay to drive under the influence. I finish by saying, “I can’t know why fate put her in my path that night, but I’m forever thankful to Kendall for being there.”
“She was your guardian angel,” Kit says.
I couldn’t have asked for a better response. “Absolutely. And it goes beyond me. She’s fought hard to find meaning and purpose for her life. She volunteered during college. After graduating, she accepted a position working with traumatized youth. She finds ways to quietly contribute every day.”
I pause for breath and then stare at the camera. “What she didn’t do was seek any of this current attention. She’s a private person. She didn’t ask me to attend her friend’s funeral. I made that decision on my own.”
“Why?” Kit asks.
“Because when someone you care about is going through a rough time, it’s hard to keep your distance. But if I’d realized my presence would put her in a spotlight I knew she didn’t want, I would have tried harder to stay away. Not because I think she should hide her past or be ashamed of the woman she is today, but because I try to respect her wishes. I admire her, I’m really proud of her, and…well, I love her.”
The segment director and production assistant practically high-five over my on-air confession. Kit flashes a smile so wide it’s blinding. “Oh my goodness. Is Vaughn Shaughnessy off the market?” she asks.
