The Accidental Bestseller (48 page)

Faye flinched beside her.

Mallory was afraid to break eye contact with the talk show host, even though she could feel Faye and Tanya tensing on both sides of her. Out of the corner of her eye, Mallory could see Kendall, her face as white as the sofa on which she sat.

“But even knowing what we do now, it’s hard to believe Kendall Aims would have the nerve to take such liberties with her friend Faye Truett’s life,” Kristen said, even though her tone indicated that was exactly what she believed.

“Pastor Steve’s wife has a huge reputation as an inspirational author,” Kristen said. “She helped build her husband’s ministry, and she’s an acknowledged philanthropist. Why, she created Rainbow House almost single-handedly.” Kristen paused as if waiting for an answer to materialize. “Why would she allow Kendall Aims to create a character that resembles her but who writes ‘racy’ romances. And why in the world would Kendall Aims drag Faye Truett into publicly defending erotica? I just don’t get it.”

The talk show host was clearly fishing now. Mallory wasn’t sure if she was upset at having backed a book and author that were not what they were supposed to be or if she had finally begun to recognize what kinds of ratings these revelations were likely to generate.

The photo of yesterday’s confrontation reappeared behind Kristen and Kendall. The caption beneath it read, “Faye Truett Squares Off with Daughter, Defends Erotica and Author Shannon LeSade.”

Kristen turned to Kendall, who appeared dazed but, to her credit, still conscious. “Did you write the character of Faith Lovett?” Kristen asked, before swinging her gaze to Mallory. “Or did you?”

There was a long silence as Mallory and Kendall exchanged glances, silently trying to read the other’s mind. Mallory had a brief vision of them both claiming responsibility at the same instant—like characters on a television sitcom.

“Which one of you created and wrote Faith Lovett?” Kristen asked. “I think at this point we have a right to know.”

Mallory could hardly believe it. She’d bared her soul in front of a studio full of people. Her confession would be seen by millions, including a husband to whom she’d never even revealed her real name. And now Kristen wanted her to “out” Faye?

Kristen Calder might be a determined woman bent on giving Oprah Winfrey a run for her money. But she didn’t know who she was dealing with.

39

—SAMUEL JOHNSON (ATTRIBUTED)

 

 

 

Faye knew as surely as she knew her own name that Mallory was getting ready to lie to protect her, in the same way that she had told the truth to protect Kendall.

For a split second Faye considered letting her do it. Mallory had already admitted to a secret past that she’d never seen fit to share with them and to working on a book without permission from her publisher. How much worse would it be for her to admit to writing one more character?

Mallory was so big her publisher was unlikely to drop her. Big authors got slaps on the wrist or some sort of monetary penalty. Even big authors who’d plagiarized and stolen ideas from others were still being published and promoted. Chris, of course, was another story. But admitting to writing Faith would hardly make Mallory’s husband’s sense of betrayal any larger.

Faye, on the other hand, stood to lose everything: her inspirational career, her reputation. Possibly her daughter and her husband. And in the process Clearview Church of God and Rainbow House would be, if not destroyed, then seriously damaged. She couldn’t think of a single good thing that would come of speaking out.

“Which one of you wrote Faith Lovett?” Kristen asked again. “I feel like I’m on a scavenger hunt now,” the talk show star said, having clearly realized the ratings potential of the unexpected show that had unfolded. “We’ve come this far, let’s go on ahead and set the record straight.” She leveled a gaze at Naomi Fondren. “Something Scarsdale Publishing should have done months ago.”

Faye unfurled from her protective ball. Ignoring the hand Mallory laid on her shoulder to hold her down, Faye stood and straightened.

The camera zoomed out to include her. Seeing herself in a nearby monitor, Faye reached a hand up to smooth her hair and straighten her glasses. A close-up of her face appeared on the monitor and Faye was amazed to see that none of her inner turmoil seemed to show.

As she prepared to speak, Faye sensed that her life would forever be divided into the “before she confessed on
The Kristen Calder Show
” and “after she’d confessed on
The Kristen Calder Show.
” But as frightened as she was of what she was about to unleash, she couldn’t let her friends take the blame for what she had done.

“I did,” Faye said. “I wrote the character Faith Lovett.”

Once again Kristen looked surprised. The audience gasped as one then fell silent so, Faye assumed, as not to miss a single word.

“Why would you do that?” Kristen asked.

“Because my friend needed me.” It was the truth as far as it went, Faye thought. But why had she taken the risk she had? She could have written Faith as an entirely different sort of character and risked much less.

“And why the sex scenes?” Kristen mused. “Why defend Shannon LeSade?”

This, of course, was the crux of the matter. Why had she allowed herself to stray so close to the truth? Why had she revealed things in a book that she’d been unable to admit to her friends and family?

She cut a look to Mallory. They couldn’t have appeared more different. They’d lived different lives, written different things. But they’d both hidden behind their work and their public personas. And they’d both written things for Kendall that had the potential to expose them.

Surely this was no coincidence.

Faye stilled for a moment. She closed her eyes in an attempt to tune out Kristen and her audience along with the harsh lights and the red glare of the camera’s light. Could God have chosen this frightening and potentially devastating way to force her to tell the truth? Could this have been His plan for her? She waited, but there was no definitive answer. No bolt of lightning. No burning bush. No voice from above.

But when she opened her eyes it was with a certainty that whatever had brought her to this place and time, there was only one answer she could give.

“The sex scenes came naturally to me,” Faye said. She paused, actually unable to believe what she was about to say. “Because I
am
Shannon LeSade.”

The audience erupted. Mallory turned to her in shock. Kendall gasped on stage. Tanya jumped out of her seat and turned to face her. For a few long moments pandemonium filled the studio. The cameras moved about, capturing reactions all over the studio.

Finally Kristen took charge and called for order. “I’m as close to speechless as I’ve ever come,” Kristen said. “Can you tell us why?”

Faye thought about when it had begun, so long ago before there was anything to jeopardize. When it was a simple matter of survival. “I started writing erotica almost twenty years ago. It was just one of the jobs I took on to help pay for our children’s college and to help my husband build his ministry, though he didn’t know it.”

Whispered murmurings filled the studio. These people only knew who she was now, or rather thought they did. “I didn’t start out as a minister’s wife, and personally, I don’t see anything irreligious or unethical about sexual relations. I happen to think the physical manifestation of love is one of the greatest gifts God gave us.”

There were more murmurs, many of them disapproving, but it was much too late to take anything back.

“But surely at some point it became unnecessary,” Kristen said. “You must have realized that if anyone ever found out there would be negative consequences.”

Faye looked at her friends’ shocked faces. She regretted not sharing her true self with them, almost as much as she regretted not being able to tell the truth to her family. But she also felt a wonderfully lightening sense of relief. “It’s those consequences that have kept me quiet for so long. But erotica has never been bigger. I’ve funded so many good works with the money from LeSade’s work that I couldn’t bring myself to cut off the income.”

But if she were honest, there was more to it than that. “And I’m really good at it. For some reason I don’t completely understand, I’m really good at erotica.”

Kristen looked completely nonplussed. So did Faye’s friends and most of the audience. She couldn’t let herself think about what would happen when Sara and Steve and the Clearview congregation heard the news.

Right now, in this calm before the storm, she knew she’d done the right thing. Just as she knew there’d be plenty of time to regret it later.

Tanya stared at Faye, trying to absorb what her friend was saying. Faye Truett, inspirational author and wife of Clearview Church’s Pastor Steve, was the notorious Shannon LeSade? She simply couldn’t process it.

Beside Faye, Mallory also still stood. Mallory’s real name was Marissa and pretty much everything she’d written in
Sticks and Stones
was the truth. Tanya could hardly believe that, either.

Compared to them, Tanya figured she’d committed the fewest offenses; her only “sin” was secretly writing for another publisher when she wasn’t legally allowed to. It wouldn’t be that big an admission, but she had so much to lose. She’d worked so hard to write three short contemporaries each year. Without her Masque money added to what she earned at the diner and the Laundromat, she’d never have enough to leave Trudy’s mobile home and look after her daughters.

Without her contract, she’d no longer be a professional writer.

Tanya caught Mallory’s eye and Mallory gave a subtle shake of her head. Kristen seemed more than satisfied with the morning’s revelations. The truth had come out; Mallory and Faye had done their best to protect Kendall. Tanya’s speaking out now would accomplish little except to annihilate her career. She turned and made eye contact with Kendall, who seemed to read her intent and also shook her head.

“Wow,” Kristen said. “If there are no more confessions, I think we all need to take our seats and consider where we go from here.”

Everyone around Tanya sat down. There was a swell of excited murmurings. An assistant moved toward Tanya’s row and motioned for her to take her seat. She wanted to, really she did. But how could she face her friends, or herself, if she didn’t admit to her part in the deception? She remained standing. “I, um, have something to say,” Tanya said.

Kristen Calder cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. “This is turning into a movie of the week,” she said, as she motioned for a camera to pick up Tanya. “Let me guess,” Kristen said. “You’re either Lucy, the plucky Scarsdale assistant, or Tina, the struggling single mother.”

“Yes,” Tanya said, biting back her fear. “I’m, um, Tina. I mean, I’m Tanya Mason and I wrote Tina.”

“And do you really write for Masque?”

“Yes,” Tanya answered. “Well, at least I did. I doubt that’ll still be true once they see this show.”

“And you’re the one who doesn’t know a good man when she sees him,” Kristen observed. “Is your mother’s real name Rhonda?”

“No, it’s, um, Trudy,” Tanya said, feeling stupid.

“Anything else you’d like to add?” Kristen Calder asked.

“No, I, um . . . I don’t think so,” Tanya said, feeling like a schoolgirl stammering in front of the principal. “I, um, just want to say that we did what we did out of love and friendship for Kendall. She needed our help and, well, she’s always been there for us.”

Tanya sat before her knees could buckle. She could already imagine Trudy’s rage when she realized that Tanya had put her life in a book and then told Kristen Calder’s viewing audience that it was her. Not to mention how smug Brett was going to be. Wouldn’t his mother and her book club just get a hoot out of this?

“Wow!” Kristen said again. “Maybe I need to consider moving to the classics in the future; those authors might have lied and plagiarized or had help from their friends, but at least they took their indiscretions to their graves with them.”

There was some laughter.

“We’ve seen authors write fiction and try to pass it off as the truth. But I think this is the first time I’ve seen an author—make that four authors—write the truth and try to pass it off as fiction.” The inquisitional tone with which Kristen had begun the interview had faded to a sort of mocking irony. “You’d think four fiction writers could have come up with something besides such a thinly disguised version of their real lives. It boggles the mind.”

Tanya winced at her dismissive tone, but Kristen was right. They had all bared their souls and for what? So that they could be humiliated on national television? To lose publishers and fans? And what about Kendall and Faye and Mallory, whose families would be freaking out from the secrets that had been spilled here?