Edmund squeezes my hand. His green eyes are solemn. “Don’t believe the boyfriend thing. Don’t believe any of it, Danica. I don’t, and you shouldn’t either. That woman is a snake. None of this is real.”
That kiss I saw was real.
The video starts up again. We’re treated to…wait, what is this? It’s an off-kilter view from inside a boardroom, like whoever is filming isn’t paying attention to where the camera is pointed.
The lens shifts and Amber Pinton comes into the frame. Her outfit is different—a black pantsuit with a red silk blouse. Her makeup is still impeccable, but there’s an aggravated bent to her lips. A phone is on the table in front of her and she stares at it with impatience. “What, exactly, is the problem, Faulk?”
“Clayborne’s coming in,” a male voice says through the phone. “Seems bothered, wouldn’t listen to my reassurances.”
“That fucking lake.” Amber rolls her eyes.
The real-life Amber standing in front of us has frozen, her smile in place. “There’s something wrong with the video. Please turn it off.”
Video Amber says, “Troy, honey, we’ll have to talk later?—”
“I just want you to admit I never hurt you. I need that, Amber.” Troy’s voice. But it doesn’t entirely sound like him. He sounds uncertain, quiet. The camera frame shifts up and down slightly as he talks—it’s Troy behind the camera.
“I can’t believe you’re trying to gaslight me,” Video Amber begins on the projector screen. Her lip curls when she says it and there’s a cruel playfulness to her voice.
She is gaslighting him.
Then a harried, white-haired man bursts into the room. “You said the lake was fine. You said the water could handle it?—”
“I said,” Video Amber interrupts, “that what you choose to do with your business’s waste is up to you. Our company advised you on several solutions?—”
“And the lake was one of them.” The man jabs a finger in her direction. “And now people are getting sick, and it’s not looking good.”
“Poor people.” Video Amber scoffs. “Blame it on their shitty diets, and do some extra green-washing. We’ll hold a litter pick-up day or something and they’ll forget about the water.”
Real-life Amber shouts, “Excuse me! We need to turn the projector off. Cut the power?—”
“Hold on, I want to see this,” someone behind us calls out.
The video abruptly turns off. Real-life Amber is the only one in front of us. She stares at the audience, a tight smile on her face. It looks to me like she’s trying to decide what to say.
I’m trying to decide what to make of what I just saw. Her company is an environmental consulting agency, and she advised the client to dump waste in a lake. Now people are sick.
Another video begins before anyone can say anything. In this one, the setting is more intimate. It appears to be a bedroom or living room. Video Amber sits in an armchair, a phone held to her ear. “Tell them that PECS isn’t responsible for the lawsuit. We advised them, yes, but we never would have told them to use Mekinsaw Lake for such a thing.”
The call ends and Video Amber tosses her phone aside.
“Everything okay?” Troy’s rumbling voice sounds so…mechanical. So off.
“I knew we shouldn’t have worked with Clayborne. They can’t fucking keep their mouths shut. It’s not my fault a bunch of people got sick.”
“But you told Clayborne to use the lake?—”
“Troy, you’re hurting me.” Video Amber falls back against the chair and grips her own forearm. “Ow, Troy—it hurts?—”
The projector screen goes dark as the video ends.
The audience murmurs and whispers. I turn to look up at Edmund. His jaw is tight, his eyes sparking with anger.
“Edmund, what did we just watch?” I whisper.
“We saw how she treats her clients…and her boyfriends. We saw what she did to Troy.”
Real-life Amber’s heels click as she steps off the stage. The audience makes a wide path for her as she marches out of the grand room.
