by J. P. Bowie
“Jesus wept,” Andrew whispered. “She’s totally insane…”
“Poor Anthony,” Eric murmured. “How did he ever survive all that crap?”
They watched transfixed as Patricia lunged at Olivia and struck her a blow to her face.
“Whoa!” Eric yelled, then looked at the others sheepishly. “Sorry…”
Peter stood as the commercial break was announced. “Well, that was even worse than I thought it would be,” he said. “I hope to God that Anthony and Emily are not watching this.”
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Nick pushed himself away from his desk with a disgusted grunt. “Can you believe this horse manure?” He strode over to the water cooler and poured himself a cup. “I don’t know which one of those women is the harder to watch—the mother with that holier-than-thou bigotry or Olivia, with all that phony sincerity. She gives me a belly-ache!”
“I kind of feel sorry for the mother,” Monica said, looking at Jeff.
“Really? In what way?”
“Well, under all that hard shell she’s built around her, I think she’s a desperately lonely woman. I mean, I don’t think even she would admit it—or would have admitted it—but there’s something about a person who has gone so far out on a limb with their beliefs, that it makes me wonder if this was just some kind of defense against what she perceived as everybody arraigned against her.”
“You got all that?” Nick asked. “All I heard were the ravings of a madwoman.”
“Oh, I’m sure she was deranged in some way,” Monica agreed. “But don’t you think it’s kind of sad that someone is driven to this kind of madness by feeling that she’s all alone in the world…?”
“But there was no reason for her to feel alone, Monica,” Jeff interrupted.
“Anthony reached out many times to his mother trying make her understand that, no matter what, he still loved her.”
“And I’ll bet she loved him,” Monica said. “Even though she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. She must have missed him in her own way.”
“Yeah, in her own way,” Nick muttered. “Her way or the highway—that’s the way it was.”
They fell silent as Olivia reappeared on the screen for the second half of the show. She introduced a panel of ‘experts’—Lester Hinds, a psychiatrist, Bob Forbes, a police detective, Alexis Stuart, a social worker, and a priest, Father Buchanan.
“Who’s the flatfoot?” Nick asked.
Jeff shook his head. “Don’t know him.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Olivia was saying, “I have brought these experts together in order to find out just what motivated Mrs. Hastings to abandon her family, and feel such hatred for those…shall we say…those who might be seen as misfits in the fabric of today’s society.”
“Who’s she talkin’ about?” Nick asked.
“You and me,” Jeff said, his face grim. “Or rather Peter and me, but gays in general. That’s probably her mean little way of getting back at us for not going along with her hare-brained idea of putting Patricia on her show.”
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They listened while the psychiatrist rambled on about deep-rooted fears of alienation, self-loathing, low self-esteem and just about every cliché in the APA. After a while, Olivia called a halt to his long-winded diatribe and turned her attention to the social worker, Alexis Stuart, an attractive middle-aged woman with intelligent eyes.
“There’s no doubt in my mind,” she said with complete candor, “that Mrs.
Hastings’ actions were as damaging as those of her husband. Denying her children protection from their father’s abuse made her an accessory.”
“But you heard her say that the girls were lying,” Olivia prompted her.
“Yes, that’s how she dealt with it. I’m afraid that’s a common occurrence, tragic though it may sound. Many times the children are ignored, because either the mother does not believe her children, or she feels she may be in danger of violence from the husband…”
“Which Anthony, her son, intimated in his earlier interview with me,”
Olivia interjected. She turned to the detective. “If, say the wife comes to you and reports that her husband is abusing their children, what steps do you take to prevent it?”
“Well, of course we would investigate the matter,” Detective Forbes replied.
“If there was sufficient evidence to support her claims, we would make an arrest.”
“And would you offer the wife protection?”
“It depends on the circumstances, but if we felt it was necessary, then yes.”
“So was there any excuse for Mrs. Hastings not to report her husband’s criminal activities?”
“None at all,” the detective said firmly.
“Well, I would disagree there…” Alexis Stuart was quick to interrupt.
“Every case is different, and in some instances the wife may have a very real cause to fear retribution from her husband. The police cannot offer protection forever.”
Olivia nodded, then turned to the priest. “Father, you heard Mrs. Hastings talk of her religious beliefs. How would you equate them with the teachings of the Catholic church?”
“Well…” The priest folded his hands over his ample belly and frowned at the camera. “She is right in one thing—homosexuality is a sin…”
Over in Peter’s gallery a collective groan went up. “Well, he oughta know,”
Eric said with contempt. “Jeez, these guys are such hypocrites.”
Olivia was smiling benignly at the priest. “But surely, in this day and age, acceptance of even deviant behavior is becoming accepted…”
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“That’s two!” Peter exclaimed. “Why that phony bee-atch…Why did I ever get involved with her? If I ever see her again…”
“Listen up,” Andrew said. “That lady social worker is pissed at Olivia.”
“Miss Winters,” Alexis Stuart was saying; “I am frankly extremely perturbed that you would use that expression. I deal with many young boys and girls who suffer a great deal of harassment because of people like you who categorize them as deviants. Their lives are harsh enough without a major celebrity, like yourself, suddenly becoming their enemy. Many of these kids are young girls who admire you for what they perceived to be your strength of character. I am sure they will be bitterly disappointed to hear you use such a disparaging and damaging term.”
Olivia stared at Alexis, for the moment unable to overcome the shock of this unexpected attack. “Oh, but…but…” she stammered. “Some of my best friends are gay!”
This started a titter from the audience that became loud laughter as everyone recognized that old clichéd saying.
“Really, Miss Winters?” Alexis Stuart was not laughing. “I think even your friends may take exception to your calling them deviants.”
Olivia quickly looked into the camera. “We’ll take a quick commercial break, and be right back.”
“Oh, way to go Alexis,” Eric yelled. “I love you!”
Peter and Andrew grinned at him, then Peter said, laughing; “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen Olivia so flummoxed. I’m so glad we’re taping this. I want to see that stupid expression on her face again and again.” He paused, then shook his head. “What am I saying? I’m getting as bad as her.”
“She is a cow,” Andrew said. “Boy, were you ever right about her.”
“Guess who’s never going to be invited back on Olivia’s show?” Nick asked, with a shout of laughter.
“Alexis Stuart!” Jeff and Monica yelled in unison.
“Guess who’s never going to risk doing another live show?” Jeff asked.
“Olivia Winters—if she’s smart,” Monica said.
Jeff chuckled. “She must be hopping mad right now. I’ll bet Miss Stuart is getting the look of death.”
“I have a feeling she won’t be bit intimidated by Olivia,” Monica observed.
“That’s one strong lady—but you have to be in that kind of job.”
“You’re right—and she was right about those questioning kids needing all the support they can get. They don’t need some snooty talk show host calling J.P. Bowie
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them names.” Jeff glared at the television as Olivia appeared once more. “Here comes the wicked witch…”
Olivia, once again all smiles, reintroduced her guests and then asked for a closing statement from each one. The detective and the psychiatrist gave what sounded like their usual stock answers.
“Boy, that psycho guy doesn’t seem to have a much of a handle on this,”
Nick observed. “He’s obviously never had anyone as loony toons as Patricia Hastings on his couch. What a waste.”
Father Buchanan was next to speak, and surprisingly made a plea for compassion to be shown to the ‘poor deceased lady whose life must indeed have been one of loss and loneliness’.
“Interesting you should say that, Father Buchanan.” Olivia leaned forward in her chair as she addressed the portly priest. “Mrs. Hastings made much of her faith and belief in God. Should that not have been of some solace to her?”
The priest shook his head. “I fear that the lady’s beliefs were somewhat misguided…”
“How so?”
“It would appear that she spent a great deal of her energy directed at threatening people, like yourself Miss Winters, with God’s eternal damnation. Such, shall we say, over-the-top verbiage is more in line with the like of television evangelists, rather than the doctrine of the more respected churches. Had Mrs.
Hastings come to me for guidance, I would have directed her to pray for those she felt were in danger of losing their immortal souls. I would certainly not condone threatening them with the hellfire and brimstone type punishment so readily called upon by preachers who deal in sensationalism, instead of God’s holy word. If Mrs. Hastings was in fact being counseled by someone purport-ing to be a man of God, then I would say that he should be ashamed of himself for misleading her in this way.”
“Strong words, Father,” Olivia said, turning to the camera. “Well, we’re almost out of time…”
“Oh, Miss Winters…?” Alexis Stuart interrupted. “Sorry…I know you have to wrap this up, but I would also like to add just a few words.” She continued without waiting for Olivia to respond. “I just wanted to reinforce what I said earlier. If there are any young boys or girls watching this who are questioning their sexuality, please don’t be ashamed of what you are and how you feel. If you feel you cannot talk to friends or your parents, don’t despair. There are many, many wonderful organizations out there to help you…” She paused and glanced at the priest who was throwing her a look of disapproval. “Also, I J.P. Bowie
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would like to add that for those of you who feel they may need some kind of spiritual help, there are many churches and religious organizations that are openly accepting of gay men and women. There is no need for you to feel iso-lated and alone…”
“Well, thank you for that, Miss Stuart.” Olivia could not quite keep the pique she was feeling, out of her voice. “Thank you all for your time today—this is Olivia Winters, live, signing off till tomorrow…”
Olivia stalked from the set as soon as she was given the sign that they were off the air. She was seething inside with frustration at what she felt had been a loss of control on her part. How dare that woman take her to task on live television—and yet, she could not but feel that she had made a tactical error in her disparaging statements. It had been foolish of her, she now felt, to have played the so-called ‘moral values’ card when she had always been supportive of gays and other minorities. Brenda’s unsmiling face gave her further pause as she walked back to her dressing room.
“That could have gone better,” her manager muttered as they entered the privacy of Olivia’s star dressing room.
“Thanks Brenda, that’s just what I need to hear, right now.”
“Well, you probably won’t want to hear this either, but a couple of the directors have already called saying they didn’t like your handling of the show.”
Olivia slumped deep into her chair and glared at Brenda through her dressing table mirror. “What do they know?” she snarled. “Let them do a live show and see how it comes out.”
“Olivia, it was your idea to go live—I was against it from the start, remember? Ever since you first mentioned having the Hastings broad on the show, I’ve said it was a bad idea.” She stared at Olivia through narrowed eyes. “Sometimes, maybe you should listen to me…”
“Get out, Brenda…I don’t need this crap from you, now or ever…”
“No Olivia, I won’t get out. You’re not going to push me around just to make yourself feel better. You know that was a lousy show, and you know it was a lousy idea. You just won’t admit it. It was mistimed, misguided and misman-aged. It’s time you started listening to other people. Maybe those fags were right after all…”
“That’s enough Brenda.” Olivia jumped to her feet, furious beyond reason.
“I’ll tell you who was right—Brad! He told me to get rid of you, and that’s what I’ll do if you don’t shut up this minute.”
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The two women stood glaring at one another for a long moment, then Brenda turned and slammed out of the room. Olivia drew a deep breath to steady herself. Damn, but she needed to get a grip, she thought. The show hadn’t been that bad, surely? It just hadn’t gone quite the way she had wanted it to. She poured herself a slug of Jack Daniels and threw it back, then followed it with another. That’s better…
A knock at the door made her jump. “Who is it?” she growled.
“Brad…”
“Shit,” she muttered. He’d been on about her drinking too much just that morning…Oh well, too bad. She needed a drink right now. “Come on in,” she said, sitting down at her dressing table again and starting to rearrange her hair.
Brad strode in, dropped a kiss on her shoulder, then frowned as he smelled the bourbon. “Already?” he asked, picking up the bottle.
“You saw the show?”
“Yeah…but that shouldn’t be a reason for you to be hitting the bottle…”
“Chrissakes Brad—you make it sound like I’m an alcoholic or something…”
“You’re well on the way, babe.” He propped himself against the dressing table and looked at her critically. “It’s beginning to show, too. Some of those close-ups were none too flattering.”
“Fuck you!”
“Hey, I’m just telling you for your own good. Booze, too much of it, can ruin your health and looks. It’s happened to hundreds of celebs…drugs, drink…”
“Oh, stop preaching…between you and Brenda I’m having one shit-awful day. The show was hell…that Stuart bitch trying to make me look stupid on live TV…” Her eyes filled with tears of frustration. “I need more criticism like I need a hole in the head…”
Brad pulled her into his arms and held her as she sobbed. “There, there,” he murmured, surprised at her showing such vulnerability. “You’ve survived more than this, Olivia. You’ll be just fine…”
He kissed her and, for the first time, Olivia began to be aware of how much she had come to enjoy having him around. He had filled a need in her and, imperfect though he was, it felt good to have his strong arms around her. As his hands caressed her body and she felt the hardness of his arousal pressed against her thigh, she sighed with pleasure and a certain degree of happiness.
Could it be that this was what she needed after all?
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“I’ll take care of you,” Brad whispered in her ear. “Don’t worry…”
And Olivia found herself wanting to believe him more than anything else in the world.
c h a p t e r 1 8
s
People Magazine
Report by May Coppola
The normally entert
aining Olivia Winters Hour was a dead duck the other day when she aired the episode where a guest smacked her on the chops. That guest is now deceased—what say you Olivia? Just kidding. Not sure what Miss Winters was striving for by inviting some ‘experts’ to discuss the woman’s on camera meltdown, but the outcome was pretty lame…
US Weekly
Report by Shannon Delaney
There’s no doubt, guests can make or break a television talk show, and Olivia Winters sure picked a dud bunch for Wednesday’s outing. With the exception of a social worker, Alexis Stuart, no one had anything of interest to say. Amazing, when you think that the subject under discussion was a woman who had attacked Olivia on camera. It should have been a winner—actually I kind of enjoyed watching the ‘violent’ part—but what followed was boooooring. Oh, except for Miss Stuart taking Olivia down a peg or two for some tasteless remarks…
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Reaction to Olivia’s show was, for the most part, fairly muted. It was not the sensational and controversial show she had hoped for—and she knew that to a certain extent, she was partly to blame. It had become a ‘non-event’ instead of the high-watermark show she had intended it to be.
Many critics felt the show took an important subject and treated it in a trite and superficial manner. “Miss Winters’ interviewing technique was sorely stretched in a number of instances,” one magazine critic wrote, “and in a strange switch of character she called gays ‘deviants’ and ‘misfits’—words sure to anger some of her previous guests.”
Another critic wrote; “The only expert who demonstrated any expertise on this particular show was Alexis Stuart, a social worker, who was quick to take Miss Winters to task for her out-of-character remarks about ‘deviants and
‘misfits’. What was our formerly gracious daytime diva thinking? Sure, there will be bigots out there who agree with her, but come on Olivia…Since when did you become a paragon of virtue?”