by Vera Roberts
Soul walks back up to me and caresses my face. “If you’re still questioning by the time I get back, leave and stay gone.” He walks away.
Chapter Eight
Going to work hit differently when your boyfriend is front page news.
As I arrived, every floor was buzzing with the news. People were talking not just about Soul, but the Ellison dynamic as a whole. I was left being stuck trying to overhear what they were saying and trying to ignore all of it.
The office, however, was divided between if he did it or not. Even the most liberal reporters were suspicious of the allegations, which didn’t even occur to me what the motivation was.
I make a beeline straight to Julie’s office, who beckons me in. I close the door behind me and sit down in front of her. “So, about Soul Ellison...?”
“Crazy, isn’t it?” She states with a wicked smile. “I knew there was something about that family. I just knew it! They were too good to be true. And Soul...” She wags a finger at me. “...I knew he was the problematic one.”
Hold up now, Becky. I’m about take off my hoop earrings and break out a jar of Vaseline if you don’t hush. “Soul is very active within the community. I wouldn’t say he’s problematic.”
“And that’s how it all starts. A lot of men are philanthropic in their communities. They donate to organizations, give millions of their money, and do a lot of dirt. That comedian was a famed and well-respected philanthropist but people didn’t know he was raping women left and right as he was doing it.” Julie stated.
I feel sick to my stomach thinking how Soul was compared to another trashbucket male. That’s not who Soul is. He has his faults but he’s not an abuser.
“I wanted to talk to you about the Ellison article you want me to do. I think we should go another approach.” I begin. “I think we should investigate the accusers.”
“Investigate the accusers?” Julie said as if she tasted something bad. The truth is never pretty. “I’m not sure what the purpose of that is. When a woman accuses of a man of rape, she’s usually honest about it.”
“Usually,” I repeat, “but sometimes women lie.”
Julie narrows her eyes at me as if she wants to say something bad but she’s carefully toeing the line. “You wrote that article on Soul a while back and accused him of it.”
My past is a scarlett letter I will never get rid of. “I know I did and I was wrong.”
Julie raises an eyebrow. “Did Soul ever present the evidence of said encounter to you?”
He never did. I never asked. I took him at his word. “No, but he presented it to the police and they never charged him based on it.”
“And you believe that?” She snickers.
What the hell? Why would he give a press conference about the evidence if he didn’t have it? “If the police are choosing not to charge a man with rape based on videographic evidence, are they wrong?”
“This is a family who has a long-storied history of making people go away and burying news stories. Why would they allow one of their own to be sitting in jail?” She shrugs.
This is unbelievable. “Wow, okay.”
“I want that write-up about the Ellisons soon.” She snaps her finger and that’s the end of our conversation. “I need to get that out quick so we can capitalize on it.”
“Okay.” I get up and exit her office. This is such bullshit. I have to do an exposé on my boyfriend – if he’s still my boyfriend – and his family instead of questioning who the accuser’s side of the story.
What’s the point of journalism if only one side is presented?
I make my way to the break room when I see Danny and another reporter, Jeremiah, converse over avocado toast. That is so hipster and millennial of them both.
Jeremiah covers politics and draws a hard line down the middle. He shows no favoritism towards either party, which is why people love and hate him. He’s too liberal for the conservatives but too conservative for the liberals.
“I’m just saying, man, I don’t buy those allegations at all.” Jeremiah says to Danny. “They just sound suspect as all hell.”
“And welcome to the #metoo movement front and center where a man is questioned and convicted before he even gets a trial.” Danny replies. “I don’t doubt this is the Republicans doing this mess.”
“Well, first Ricardo Montez and now Soul Ellison? Too obvious.” Jeremiah says. “The Democrats have been silent on both, which tells me they think they might be true.”
Ricardo Montez? What does he have to do with Soul’s allegations? I try to get closer to listen in more without them seeing me.
“Well, there’s been rumors for years that Ricardo was a pervert so no one is too shocked by those. Soul Ellison, though?” Danny shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. I’m in the streets and I never heard a peep about him from anyone. He doesn’t even like to go out to clubs very much because of his fame. He’s not like that athlete that was drugging and raping women every chance he got.”
“Yeah, but dude, this is the second allegation the man has caught in just two years. People may have excused the first one but ain’t no one excusing the second one now there are charges.” Jeremiah replies. “If Soul comes out with hardcore evidence he didn’t do it, the whole #metoo movement is over. Done. Finished. It’ll be the second time he has been falsely accused and you can’t past that.”
“Convoluted and twisted.” Danny shakes his head. “This has political corruption written all over it.”
“Someone needs to prove it.” Danny shrugs and the two men leave and I turn my back so they don’t see me.
I have no appetite at all. I had a hard time swallowing the allegations but now there might be proof Soul might have been set up, after all.
Now the real investigation begins. I need to find the underlying cause of this before it’s too late.
For Soul.
For us.
I spend the rest of my morning researching the Ellison family and only discovered things I already knew. A few overzealous journalists already had articles dissected and already posted before I even had my morning coffee. I’m still not sure why Julie still wants me to pursue an article on Soul when there are a dime a dozen on him and the family already.
My cell phone rings and I glance down at the number. Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I should’ve been prepared to see that person call me. She wanted the scoop before Julie said one word.
The ghosts of Christmas Past just keep coming. “Hello Laura,” I pick up.
“Darling,” she replies. She holds the r like she’s pronouncing ah so it sounds like dahling. “How’s my girl doing?”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ve seen the headlines.” I reply to her. “I’m not having a good time, no.”
“Are you currently at work? I need to talk to you about something but I need it to be off the record.”
My ears perked up. “Oh?”
“I’ll be flying in this week and I have some information you can use,” I can hear Laura’s smile over the phone, “let’s have a drink and talk.”
Whenever a woman says that, it tells me I need to get a tub of Vaseline, my hair tied back, and some pepper spray.
Laura is up to something and I’m wondering how many more fucks do I have to give?
“HEY CUZ,” DESIREE GREETS me after I came home from work. “How are you doing?”
I shrug. Two days ago, I had the world at the tips of my fingers. Now I’m on the verge of breaking up with my boyfriend and I’m still trying to figure out if he actually committed this crime he might go to prison for life.
“Oh, you know,” I begin as I drop my Sweet Nectar handbag on the sofa and remove my blazer. “My entire world is crumbling apart but I’m doing just peachy keen.”
Desiree pats the seat next to her and I sit beside her as Alex is making waist beads. “So, what’s going on, boo?”
“I don’t think Soul hurt that girl but I don’t know how to prove it. My boss wants me to do an exposé on
the family and I’m reluctant to do so. Actually, it’s not even reluctance; I just flat-out don’t want to do it. Yet, I need to figure out how I can prove Soul’s innocence.”
“Well, let’s go over the fact,” Desiree clears her throat and strokes her chin, “he met a girl at a club, they went back to his hotel, did the thing, and she was trying to extort him for money. When that didn’t work, she went to the police and they filed charges.” She nods. “What hotel was it?”
“I didn’t ask.” I shake my head. “I’m not sure if Soul wants to talk to me right now. He’s pretty upset with me.”
“Hey baby,” Desiree turns to Alex, “you work in hospitality. Don’t you got other friends who could find out that info?”
“There are like a hundred hotels in L.A., honey.” Alex replies. “I need a bit more information like dates.”
“Well, it was before the benefit where I saw Soul, so about six months back.” I add.
“So, about November? Thereabouts?” Desiree asks and I nod. “So, we gotta look at what Soul was doing in L.A. during that time.”
“Is Soul known to hire escorts?” Alex asks.
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t need to but after the last allegation he might have. But he met the girl at the club so he wouldn’t have hired her.”
“Or he may not have known she was an escort.” Desiree replies. “Not all of them are on backpage.”
“I don’t even know what race she is.” I shake my head. Just when I thought I was making leeway, there was yet another roadblock in front of me. “I have no idea what she looks like. I don’t even have a random name. I have absolutely nothing.”
The sound of country music suddenly blares. Alex starts humming along while Desiree nods her head. “I know you two aren’t country fanatics.”
“Yo, Soul got some good taste in music! Yo, check it,” Desiree leans forward, “the nigga introduced me to Charley Pride. Charley Pride, man!”
“I like Alabama Shakes, even though they’re not really country.” Alex adds as she puts on another bead.
I feel the lone person who hates country music. Yeah, I like Garth, and the Dixie Chicks. Okay, I also like Shania Twain and Gretchen Brooks. And I might have downloaded a couple of Carrie Underwood songs.
Oh, who am I kidding? I probably won’t be going country line dancing any time soon, but I can appreciate a good Kenny Chesney song. “I need to go talk to Soul. He’s upstairs working. I also need to save my relationship.”
“Good luck, Cuz.” Desiree flips through the channels. “Let me know if you need my help. My crew back in L.A. can do some digging if they need to.”
“I might take you up on your offer.” I get up and head upstairs to the top floor where Soul has his design studio. It’s an open space so there’s no door. There are nothing but windows, mannequins, and several mirrors.
Soul’s back is facing me and I can feel the stress radiating from him. I didn’t think he would be in the condition or state of mind to do any designing but he’s proving me wrong. Designing is what gives him peace and sanity.
He can create something magical and forget about the world. I guess I have the same approach to journalism. It gives me a feeling of being needed and I don’t do it for the likes, virals, or retweets. I do it for the love.
I quietly watch him as he works through a design, stopping and restarting until it’s perfect. I don’t know how long he’s working on it but I know it’s been a while since I’ve listened to four songs in the meantime.
“Alexa, off.” He orders. He sets down the pencil and rubs his face. He’s exhausted but I don’t think it was because of the designs. He’s tired of everything going on and it just got started.
He sits back and faces straight ahead. “Hey.”
He knew I was watching him and he didn’t acknowledge my presence until just then. I don’t know if that’s a compliment or if he just didn’t want to be bothered me with until he was done. Or maybe, he didn’t know how to approach me since our epic fight this morning.
“Hey.” I reply. I wring my hands. “Can we talk?”
Soul swings his chair around and walks over to the sofa. He pats it down and I walk over to sit. He wraps one arm around me and I nestle into his body like we’re about to watch a movie. I smell his heavy cologne and once again, my resolve dissipates.
I want to fight him. I want to fuck him. I want to slap him. I want to ride that fat, wide tongue of his. I want him to fuck my mouth. I still want him.
“So, what’s up, boo?” His deep voice feathers my ears. “What’s up?”
“I don’t want to break up with you, baby.” I sigh. “But I need some help in proving your innocence.”
“I don’t want you to get involved,” he shakes his head, “it’s best you stay out of this.”
“I can’t,” I turn to him and feel my heart break as I stare at his baby blues, “my editor wants me to do an exposé on your family. I told her I didn’t want to and wanted to do an exposé on your accuser instead and she rejected it. If I don’t do that story, I’m going to be fired.”
Soul blinks and says nothing. He just stares at me, probably trying to get a good read on me. “And what did you decide?”
“I overheard some guys talking at work about you possibly being set up and it might be a political thing. They mentioned a Ricardo Montez, but I’m not sure who that is—”
“I know who it is,” he interrupts me. He stares straight ahead again and lets out a deep breath. “What else did they say?”
“They say it might be the Republicans behind it and they were skeptical of the allegations but that’s all they said.” I try to get a read on Soul and it’s impossible. I have no clue what’s going on anymore. “Do you know who they’re referring to?”
“Yes.” That’s all he says for a while. “Okay. I need to talk to my father about all of this. This is information he could use.”
“Okay.” I get up and straighten out my slacks. Soul follows me. “Where do we go from here?”
“Listen, shorty,” he pulls me aside, “you don’t have to do any of this, aight? You don’t have to put your neck on the line, you don’t have to quit your career, you don’t have to do any of that. If you want to bail, now’s the time to do so. A lot of women wouldn’t even be seen with me right now. If you want to leave, I get it. I just want you to know I didn’t hurt that girl and that’s my not character. That’s not who I am. But if you have doubts or if the pressure is too hot, I understand you want to leave.”
“I’m not leaving,” I swallow as I declare my love, “but we have don’t have much time. People are starting to protest your clothing again. We need to change the tide in our favor.”
“I’m listening,” Soul replies. “What do you suggest?”
“Laura called me today at work,” I begin, “she has information that might save your life. I hope you have a pencil handy because we’re about to play connect the dots.”
Chapter Nine
News of Soul’s arrest died down within the past week with clear division lines. The liberal media has already painted him guilty. Surprisingly, the conservative podcasts and news station are creating doubt.
While it’s pretty clear where I stand in private, at work I have no opinion. Many have asked me what I thought and I just say the standard canned answer I’d rehearsed over and over:
“Well, we just have to wait and see.”
It’s the answer no one wants and it’s answer I certainly don’t want to give, but I have no choice. I’m between a rock and a hard place. I want to come off as impartial and balanced, but on the same tip, I also don’t want to believe every single allegation that is thrown at a man.
I did that once and I don’t want to do it again.
After chatting with Laura throughout the week, she’s flying into New York to meet with me and Soul personally. Because Soul still doesn’t trust her, he also has Lennox and Thomas meeting with us.
Laura has a permanent smirk on her face as if sh
e always knows the hottest tea and doesn’t want to share quite yet. It’s not that she’s intentionally being a bitch, but she loves to play chess with people’s lives.
The only people I’ve seen Laura treat with respect are the janitors at SHE network. It’s not that we were all chopped liver, but Laura made it clear unless we’re valuable to her, we were all disposable.
As we meet at a restaurant after hours, Laura’s stride is part calculating executive and part “100% THAT BITCH.” Dressed in a money green pantsuit with Jimmy Choos on her feet, Laura walks like she owns the world. She practically does.
A young man is accompanying her and he has a folder with him. Laura knows the information she has could either save Soul or send him to jail and I know whatever favor she’s going to do for us is going to be rather expensive.
I hope Soul is ready to open his wallet wide. “Laura,” I stand up to give her air kisses and she returns the favor, “thank you for meeting with us.”
“You’re welcome.” She gives a friendly handshake to Soul. We’re joined by his attorney, Lennox, and father, Thomas. Thomas has barely said two words to me and has looked at me even less. I’m sure he thinks I’m partially to blame for the world turning on Soul again.
Laura sits down with her companion and orders champagne. “My treat,” she smiles at everyone.
Thomas sighs as he tries to hold back telling her off. It’s clear he thinks she’s wasting his time. It’s also clear Laura doesn’t care what Thomas thinks.
The server comes by with champagne and appetizers. Laura and her companion dig in. The rest of us decline. After the champagne is poured, Laura holds up her glass. “A toast? To justice.”
I look around and see how everyone is playing Laura’s game as if they’re used to this behavior from her. This is how Laura operates. You either play by her rules or you don’t play at all.
“Now, let’s get down to business.” Laura gently pats her lips. “Soul, I know you didn’t rape that girl. I have proof that you didn’t.”
