44. Libby #2
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask as I hold out my arms.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Sutton runs into them and hugs me tight.
So much for my makeup still being intact, because, on contact, my eyes flood with tears.
“We needed you,” Fisher says as he wraps both of us in a hug.
That’s when I officially lose it. “I needed you,” I whisper. “Both of you.”
Fisher puts two fingers beneath my chin and tilts my face up, then presses his lips to mine. “I know. That’s why we’re here.”
“You’re here. You’re both here,” I say through a sob.
He nods, his cheek pressed to mine. “Both of us.”
“This is the guy?” my father says behind me.
I pull back and turn. “Dad this is?—”
“Fisher Jones.” He holds out his hand.
Confusion swirls through me as he smiles at Fisher, his expression softening. “He’s been taking care of the cottage. And he’s the one I asked to get the place ready for you. Cank gave me his number. Says he does everything on the island.”
The two of us let out matching laughs. “Not anymore,” Fisher says, shaking my father’s hand.
“No?” I say, questioning him.
With a smile, he peers down at me. “No. From now on, the only people I do everything for are you two.” He squeezes Sutton’s shoulder.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” I’m still blown away. Still confused about how they got here. About why they’re here.
“We couldn’t miss your big award.” Sutton grins.
“Oh.” I glance at my father. He was supposed to be my guest tonight.
He gives me a warm smile. “Take them.” Quickly, his expression morphs into something far more serious. “But if Brad so much as looks at her?—”
Fisher tenses beside me. “I’ve got her.”
Straightening his jacket, my father nods. “Good, because if I see him, I’ll kill him.”
Sutton squeaks and I glower.
“Sorry,” he says sheepishly.
Fisher shakes his head. “I’m with you.”
“No one is hurting anyone,” I say, looking back and forth between them.
“Right,” Sutton says proudly. “She’s going to decimate him with the truth.”
Smiling, I bend down and hug her again. “Exactly, pretty girl.”
Between our encounter at the gate and the phone calls I made to ensure we secured a third seat, we missed the red carpet. I may not have had the opportunity to speak my truth there, but I promise myself I’ll find a way.
Sutton sits between Fisher and me. It was more difficult than I expected to magically come up with a third seat, but my publicist is a saint who was more than willing to give up her spot.
Every few seconds, Sutton grabs my arm and points at another celebrity she recognizes. She knows more people here than I do since I’ve always been too busy to watch anything other than Dancing with the Stars regularly.
We’re not seated with anyone from my show. Probably on purpose. Maybe my people arranged it. Maybe the production team did. Either way, I can’t say I’m not happy about it. I’ve yet to spot Brad, but I won’t breathe easy until we’re back on the East Coast.
The award for best supporting actress is announced near the end of the night, and when Joey Berkshire—the heiress and winner of Dancing with the Stars —says my name, I break out in goose bumps.
The audience cheers, but the sound fades as I stand and lock eyes with Fisher.
Holy shit. This is actually happening. I won. I won.
Fisher reaches across Sutton and squeezes my hand. “Proud of you.”
Sutton throws her arms around my waist, vibrating with excitement. With a steadying breath, I hug her tight. “Thank you, pretty girl.”
Her blue eyes meet mine, so full of wisdom and trust. So full of belief in me. “Now go tell your truth.”
I walk up to the stage in a daze and accept a hug from Joey before turning toward the now quieted crowd.
For a moment, my mind is blank. But then I spot Brad, seated in the third row, with a smug smile on his face, and the words spill out.
“You all watched for months as my character fought a battle that many people face in real life. Depression. Drugs. The loss of the will to live. The truth is, I didn’t even have to act in those scenes.”
I meet Brad’s gaze, and he lights up like he thinks I’m going to admit that I had a drug problem like the producers alleged.
More determined than ever, I look away from him.
“I had been fighting a similar battle for years. An internal one. But it had nothing to do with drugs. I battled with myself because I felt dirty within my own body because of the way someone else touched me.” I look back at him.
“Because of the way Brad Fedder touched me.”
The auditorium room breaks out in a collective whoosh of air.
Brad jumps up, his hands balled into fists. “This is bullshit!”
Security starts down the aisle because, fortunately, the Emmys take their ceremonies seriously, and a rowdy member of the audience won’t get to stay.
“Sit down, Brad. You never listened when I said no, but you are going to listen to this.”
Music plays, signaling that my time is up. Or maybe it’s a way to gloss over what’s going on. To silence me. But I won’t be silenced any longer.
“I was eight the first time he touched me. Eight .”
Murmurs break out throughout the audience, and Brad shuffles toward the end of his row, but he’s stopped when several people refuse to move out of his way.
“He was sixteen,” I continue. “Many of you might wonder why, if he’d molested me, I auditioned for a show.
You may wonder how I could have worked with him for years without speaking up.
The answer is complicated. I was a child, and his family was my family.
I was scared I’d lose more people I cared about. ”
I look at Sutton and smile. “But I’m not scared anymore.”
“This is bullshit!” Brad yells as an older gentleman holds him in place. The woman on his other side stands with her arms folded, her face a hard mask of fury. “She’s making things up,” he rattles on. “It’s been twenty years”
“Eighteen, actually,” I muse. “And funny thing,” I say, though this is absolutely the least funny topic I’ve ever discussed.
“But in the State of Rhode Island, a victim of sexual assault has twenty years to press charges. And while we may be in California now, Brad’s family had a house on Block Island. ”
I stare him straight in the eye and force myself to breathe, to hold tight to my strength.
“I have my own family now. I’m not scared of you anymore. You have no power over me.”
When the clapping starts, it’s just a single person. Immediately, I search for the source. Sutton is standing, clapping as loudly as she can. Fisher’s holding her shoulder, his face full of emotion.
The woman beside them stands and joins in.
And like a stadium of fans does at a sporting event, they stand, creating a wave, until my peers are all on their feet, applauding.
The music is still playing and Brad is still screaming, but it’s all drowned out by the cheering of the crowd.
This is it. The sound of me taking back my truth.
I’m finally stepping out of the shadows and into the sun.
But I don’t want to be here anymore. So I rush off the stage, award in hand, and when I return to my seat, Fisher and Sutton are there to greet me. Fisher pulls me to his chest, and without having to ask, guides us out.
“You realize you’re going to be on the cover of every gossip rag and celebrity magazine now, right?” I grin at him as we step out of the theater.
With an arm draped around my shoulders, he kisses my forehead. “We’re in this with you, Libby. It’s the three of us from here on out. So what do you say? You ready to go home, Princess?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and let the words that once irritated me wash over me. They hit different now.
“Yes,” I say as an overwhelming sense of peace settles within my bones. “Take me home.”