Previously On…
I’m supposed to be going to bed.
Instead, I’m on my couch under a blanket that smells vaguely like armpits and popcorn, watching a fictional Las Vegas news anchor destroy her life.
Onscreen, dramatic jazz plays while a woman in silver Jimmy Choos chases her fiancé through an apartment complex with a butcher knife.
Her name is Skylar Kingston.
Her makeup is flawless.
Her bob is flawless.
Her mugshot is going to be flawless too.
Across the parking lot stands Jackson. The source of all this foolishness.
Five years together. Two side babies. Multiple affairs. One STD requiring antibiotics and prayers.
And somehow he looks like the victim.
Skylar stops beneath a parking lot light and points the knife at him.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me.”
Now see. That’s the voice you use when you’ve already cried.
That’s the voice that comes after the tears.
The dangerous voice.
Apartment doors start opening because nothing brings people together faster than somebody else’s disaster.
A woman on the second floor leans over the railing, “Girl, cut him already.”
I pause the TV.
“Her ass is crazy.”
From upstairs Atlas yells, “Mommy, can I have a cookie?”
“No.”
I hit play.
Back outside, Jackson’s best friend appears wearing one of his T-shirts… and the expression of a woman realizing she may die over mediocre community dick .
Lord.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
Skylar lunges.
Not fully.
Just enough to send Jackson stumbling backward over a curb while the crowd loses its collective mind.
Then out of nowhere—
WHACK.
The other woman hits Skylar upside the head with a patio lantern.
I gasp.
My husband looks up from his book.
“What happened?”
“She assaulted an Emmy winner.”
He nods and goes back to reading.
Onscreen, Skylar collapses.
One heel breaks. The knife skids across the pavement. Sirens scream in the distance. And suddenly everybody remembers this isn’t reality television.
It’s felony assault.
The police arrive.
Fast.
Suspiciously fast.
Last week Skylar exposed corruption in the police department, which means every officer pulling into that parking lot already has an opinion.
“DROP THE WEAPON!”
She drops it.
They tackle her anyway.
Right before they shove her into the squad car, the camera finds him.
Her photographer.
Their eyes meet.
He keeps filming.