Page 73 of Saving Pookie

It's been about an hour, and the time is flying by.

But the cruel hand of fate slows the minutes to a crawl as Matty gleefully announces the intro to the next segment. "He was gone as fast as he came, but nobody caused more of a stir than Cameron Shields. From the time he stepped foot in this friend group, tensions soared." He directs his attention to Gunnar as he grabs a cue card. "Thomas from Nevada asks, 'What happened to Cameron? Gunnar was smitten, and then he simply vanished, never to be seen again.'"

Gunnar forces a laugh. "Thomas clearly doesn't know me. I can be smitten one day and bored the next." He claps his hands. "And that's the boring truth. I got bored."

"But can't you see how it would appear suspicious that he vanishes in the middle of a group trip? Surely, there's more to the story."

Gunnar meets my gaze for a quick moment, swallows a dry lump, and looks back at Matty. He wets his lips, and I can see the lies forming on the tip of his tongue before he utters them: "I cheated on Cameron. He found out after our sit-down with Pookie and Braxton, and he left right after."

Matty shares a look with Talon, who stands behind the opposite couch. Talon pulls a stack of papers to his mouth and nods, giving Matty some kind of signal. Or maybe I'm just paranoid.

"It's the ultimate he-said, he-said, but one thing is for certain: the viewers are taking sides." Matty pulls one leg over the other, cradling it in his lap as he directs his attention my way. "Pookie, a lot of viewers are torn. Amanda from Ohio says, 'There's Pookie's story, Cameron's story, and then there's the truth. I'm more prone to believe Cameron. Pookie comes off as a user. What would you say to viewers like Amanda?'"

My throat clenches, my eyes widening as I hear the sound of a nearby camera lens zooming in. It takes me entirely too long to answer the question, and when I do, the words come out like gravel: "I don't care who believes me."

Matty glances back to Talon, who once again offers him a nod. No doubt they're up to something, but what?

Matty sighs as he leans back in his chair. He taps his fingers on the velvet fabric, and I can't decipher if he's about to go on the attack or something else entirely. What I do know is there's an uncomfortable silence in the tension-filled room. Even the audience says nothing, and though it might be a cliché, I'm pretty sure a pin drop could be heard from the second-floor terrace.

To my left, there's a storm brewing in Braxton's eyes, turquoise blues fighting a battle he can't win. I know he wants to comfort me. We both know he can't, and it's tearing me apart.

"Cameron said on camera that you stole ten thousand dollars from him and that you continued to live in his penthouse until you moved in with Braxton. Are you denying these allegations?"

I choke back vomit, steady my grip on the arm of the couch, and say quietly, "Yes."

Matty smacks the stack of cue cards over his hand before laying them down on the table beside him. "Can you forgive me for being inquisitive? Because I have to say that the story isn't adding up. You say he was jealous and that's why it didn't work out, but what reason did Braxton have to punch him on sight?"

"I'll answer that." Braxton raises his hand as if he's a teenager in a classroom asking for permission to speak. "I was aiming at Gunnar."

Matty smirks. "You missed by about three feet."

"I have bad aim," Braxton grumbles under his breath and pushes himself back into the pillowy couch.

Matty collects a cue card, but I notice he barely even glances at it. It's almost as if he doesn't need to read it because he has his next line memorized. "Jason from Kentucky has a theory he wanted me to share today. His hypothesis is that Pookie filled Braxton's head with lies⁠—"

"He beat me," I shout, and the words surprise me almost as much as they do everyone else. I swallow my nerves and find the courage to say what I've wanted to say for so long. My foot pounds against the hard floor, over and over again. My leg rattles and my voice shakes. "Cameron was an abusive asshole who took pleasure in owning me. I dressed how he wanted me to, went where he wanted me to, did what he wanted me to. If I so much as stepped out of line, if I dared look at him wrong, if another guy dared to look my way at all..." Tears well up in the corners of my strained eyes, but they refuse to fall. They're just stuck there like glue, clouding my vision. "When I showed up for the first day of filming, I was hiding the bruises on my face. The day I moved into Braxton's apartment, I went to grab some of my things, and Cameron didn't take that well." I pat the wetness around my eyes, dragging pools of sadness away from them. One emotion shifts to the next, and I ride the waves of grief, anger, and peace in the span of seconds. "That's who he is. So, one day I ran. I took nothing from him, and that still wasn't enough. He found his way back in my life and tried to ruin the one good thing that ever happened to me." I nod at Gunnar, but he ducks away from my gaze quickly, unable to confront the guilt for the part he played in the ordeal. "That's why Cameron left Miami. Gunnar found out the truth and confronted him."

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Talon slicing fingers over his throat.

Matty immediately points to the camera and says, "We'll be right back."

There's no outro or promise for more drama after the break. There's silence in the room as Talon approaches behind Matty and Mr. Pink.

"We need you to issue an apology and a disclaimer as soon as we go live again," Talon says, panic in his voice as he holds a firm hand on Matty's shoulder. "Otherwise, we risk a substantial lawsuit for these unsubstantiated claims."

Mr. Pink's gaze twists sideways to Talon, and then lands on me. He cocks his head slightly, lost in thought. Another moment passes and then he jumps to his feet and approaches, kneeling in front of me, his cowboy boots kicked backward. He massages my shoulder gently. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "For everything. None of this is your fault and you deserved better than this circus." He raises a hand to my chin and lifts my head. "I need you to tell me who else knew about this?"

Now, the tears come fully, the dam breaking. To have this man believe me without further questions—this man whom I haven't exactly been close with or gotten to know—it's like I'm looking into the eyes of the father who abandoned me when I was young. Such a fucking cliché.

When he realizes I'm too dazed to say anything at all, he turns to Braxton. "Tell me the truth."

Braxton nods in silence, speechless for the first time in his life. It's almost as if he's afraid of the repercussions that come with telling the truth. He points to Talon and dryly says, "Talon set the whole thing up."

Mr. Pink nips at the hair on his beard as he stands, his mouth contorting into a sour expression. "Talon, outside. Now!"

I've never heard him scream or lose his temper. Talon sheepishly exits the stage, following behind Mr. Pink.

Braxton scoots closer, wrapping an arm around my back. "Are you okay?"