Private Player

“I just had an article to finish.”

She either wasn’t listening or accepted that explanation without a second thought because she slumped into the bedroom chair next to my desk. “What a day,” she said. “There’s something huge about to hit. Huge. It’s been frantic all day trying to get my source to go on the record. It’s going to be front page either today or tomorrow.”

City gossip wasn’t my mother’s cup of tea, but the way she said it made me wonder whether or not she was talking about Mark Alpern. When he got arrested, it would be splashed across every newspaper in Britain.

“You found out half of Hollywood has herpes?” I asked and took a gulp of wine.

“It’s a divorce, darling. A big one. Household name.” She was desperate to tell me. She was always desperate to tell me. My dad had given up trying to be interested long ago, but Mum still thought I cared. I didn’t. Especially not today.

My mother hadn’t exactly ruined things between Nathan and me—it wasn’t who she was that he didn’t like, but what she did. And anyway, if I’d been honest, as I’d been planning, Nathan would more than likely have forgiven me. That’s not how it was meant to be. And when he read the article, the coffin lid would be nailed tightly shut on our relationship. I shouldn’t dwell on it. What we had was built on secrecy and lies, and it was bound to end sooner or later. The strength of my feelings for Nathan couldn’t have lasted. Nothing that powerful, that bright, could last for long. I’d simply turned the power out rather than wait for the inevitable fizzle of feelings.

It was fine. I would be fine. Even if it didn’t feel like it at that moment.

I took another glug of wine.

“You okay, darling? You look a little . . . overwrought.”

I sighed and spun my chair out from under my desk. We hadn’t talked about how I felt about her job in ages. Years. Because what was the point? We were never going to agree. But I wanted one last shot to try to understand why she did what she did. “Does it ever bother you that you’re writing all these things about people, even when you know it will devastate them?”

“Devastate?” she repeated. “That seems a little dramatic. If I’m reporting on a celebrity divorce, the news was bound to come out eventually. The cost of fame is living in the public eye, as I’ve always told you.”

I supposed that made sense. “What about when you discover someone’s cheating? It’s not like the wife, or whoever the wronged party was—it’s not like they always know.”

“I have very reliable sources. I don’t spread baseless speculation. Often the celebrities themselves come to me. I’m not saying I get calls from Angelina every day, but it does happen.”

“You can’t get it right one hundred percent of the time, though.” I thought of the pictures of Nathan and Audrey, and the truth behind why they’d been meeting. Both of them must have been so hurt to have been confronted by Mark’s betrayal in such uncertain terms. My mother’s column had made two friends looking for comfort into something salacious, when it was anything but.

“It’s true, darling, we all make mistakes. I always try to verify my information with multiple sources. Even then, for every story I submit, there are three I chuck in the bin.”

I set my glass down on my desk. “What are you talking about? Why would you kill your own stories?”

“For all the obvious reasons.”

“Because you’re not sure you know the truth?”

“No, I don’t even consider writing articles if I don’t know the truth. But sometimes you know the truth, but you also know that revealing that truth to the public is the wrong thing to do. I’ve always let my conscience guide me.”

I swallowed a lump in my throat. “But isn’t that our job?” I asked. “To expose the truth. We’re not supposed to be the gatekeepers.”

“There’s no hard line, though, Madison. You have to use your judgment. The truth isn’t an all-access pass. We’re human. We’re writing about humans. You have to weigh up the human consequences of submitting a story, along with the public interest. You have to decide whether what you write is necessary. Truth isn’t a panacea. It’s not permission to behave badly.”

My stomach curdled. I’d always thought my mother was ruthless about going after the story and exposing celebrities. “But you always say that if celebrities put their lives out there, wanting to be talked about, they can’t be surprised or offended when people talk about them.”

“Yes,” she said. “And that’s true. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t choices to make. Last year I found out a certain very young, blond popstar had an abortion. Several sources confirmed the information—it was clearly true. But that story never ran. I never gave it to my editor because I didn’t want to add to that poor girl’s trauma. It just wasn’t necessary.”