by Vera Roberts
“Soul meets eyes with Laura. He doesn’t sigh with relief nor is he smiling. He knows in order to save his life, Laura wants something meaty. “What’s your price?”
“No, I don’t want money.” Laura smiles. “I want your time.”
Soul already knows what Laura means. Reality TV may have been good for his friends but it’s not something for Soul. “I don’t do reality, Laura, you know this.” Soul states. “Come with something better.”
“A documentary?” She suggests. “An interview. A peep inside your world.”
“A documentary.” It’s a question but Soul doesn’t repeat it as one. It’s more of a statement with him. “With you being the producer.”
“You see, I knew you were super smart!” Laura exclaims with a poignant smile.
Soul remains emotionless. “I want to see what you have first before I agree to a damn thing.”
Laura blinks as she’s trying to process the insult. She doesn’t like being challenged and Soul seemingly challenges her every chance he gets. “Frederick, show him the pictures.”
Frederick is a guy who looks like he probably goes by Freddy. He has bleached blond hair that is almost distracting from his Latino features and probably listens to all sorts of indie bands that almost no one has heard of.
He’s clearly a fan of Soul with the bright pink hoodie he’s wearing with the peach logo in the front.
Frederick slides the photos over to Soul, who slowly opens them up. His face remains unchanged as he looks through them. The first set of photos is of Soul and a slim, blonde woman. They’re in front of a hotel and holding hands.
She’s impeccably dressed in a mini-skirt and halter top with high heels. She looks sexy, but not hooker-ish. There are a few tattoos on her body and her hair is pinned high on her head.
My stomach twists in knots as he flips through the photos. They’re kissing. He goes inside the hotel. She stays outside to make a phone call. She follows him inside. After she exits the next day, her look is different.
Makeup is smeared. Her dress is torn. There are obvious scratches on her body. Her hair is no longer in a bun, but in messy waves down her shoulders. She looks like she’s been crying.
“She didn’t look like that when she left the room.” Soul quietly states as he continues to study the photos. “Her makeup was done. Her hair was up. Her dress was intact.”
Soul isn’t fazed by the photos. His eyes grew darker as he studied each one of them before he passed it onto his attorney and father. He didn’t bother to slide them to me because he knew how upset they would make me.
“Well?” Laura asked. “What do you think?”
“You didn’t fly out to New York to present these photos in exchange for silence and a TV deal,” Soul leans back in his chair, “there’s more.”
Laura motions Frederick and he slides another folder to Soul. Soul opens this one and is once again, unfazed. The woman is identified as McKenzie Wise, and she’s an influencer/socialite based in L.A.
That alone isn’t the shocker. A lot of socialites are social climbers and post photos because they want to be seen, not necessarily heard. I would know this because I used to report on them and follow plenty of them on social media.
The yacht girls. The beach girls. The social media mavens. The foodies. The models. The festival goers. The pop-up shop queens. They are all one and the same with the intention of being famous, just to be famous.
The next set of photos is of McKenzie with two people I’m not familiar with but Thomas and Lennox laugh at them. “Of course,” Lennox says with a headshake.
“I thought that asshole had one more trick up his sleeve and I was right.” Thomas concurs.
“I’m sorry?” I’m lost in this entire conversation. “Who are they?”
“Flanking our dear rape accuser are her possible sponsors and architects behind this whole thing,” Soul states, “Ricardo Montez, and his batshit crazy daughter, Ximena.”
“I don’t get it,” I shake my head. “Are they Republicans?”
“Hardly. Up until a few months ago, Ricardo was the head of the Congressional Hispanic Caucus Institute.” Thomas explains. “And then he was caught having sex with a woman who appeared unconscious. Whether she actually was is debatable. Before Ricardo was caught, Ximena went on a date with Ocean, who dumped her a short time afterwards, if you could call it that. Ximena and Aaliyah had words and that was the end of it. So I thought.”
“So, they think it was you who set up Ricardo? And in appreciation, they’re setting up Soul to take the fall to hurt Ocean?” I ask and everyone nods. “What. The. Hell?”
“It’s a good theory but we need to prove it,” Lennox adds, “the pictures don’t help Soul’s case at all. If anything, it bolsters the prosecution.”
“Wait a second,” I grab a few of the pictures and study them again, “I recognize that hotel. That’s the hotel Alex works at!” I turn to Soul. “Desiree’s girlfriend works at that hotel!”
“Are you sure?” Soul grabs a picture. “It was the St. Martin hotel.”
“That’s the one!” I’m almost bouncing in my seat. “I’ll ask if she might be able to pull up security footage from that night. It shouldn’t be an issue.”
“We need that footage,” Lennox butts in, “we need to see what happened after she left Soul’s room. Once the prosecution releases these photos, it’s a wrap for Soul and it’ll be hard to get any juror who’s not biased.”
“Let me talk to Alex,” I announce to everyone, “I’m sure she can get the footage without a warrant. If she can’t, we’ll go the warrant route.”
“Now, Ariana,” Laura turns to me, “what is your role in all of this? What are you doing at the Metropolitan?”
I feel Thomas glaring at me. He’s curious what I’m about to say. He wants to know what side I’m on so he could either be pleasantly surprised or he could shake a finger at Soul while saying, ‘told you so.’ “My boss wants me to do an expose on the family but I told her I wanted to do one on the accuser.”
“And I take it she said no?” Laura asks and I nod. “Expected.”
“Do you have to work at the Metropolitan?” Lennox asks. “You don’t have to, do you?”
“I don’t plan to. But I don’t have too many options out there.” I meet Laura’s eyes and her lips curved into a Cheshire-cat smile. “Oh?”
She sucks the inside of her cheeks like she’s about to eat a lemon. “Report your findings on my network. Do an excuse sit-down with Soul. Interview Ximena and Ricardo. Interview the accuser and blur her face.”
“You want me to do a documentary on this?” I ask and she nods. “And when will this be released?”
“Soul, when are you going to be arraigned?” Laura is talking to him, but her eyes on me.
“Six weeks.”
“That gives Ariana two weeks.” She smiles.
Two weeks to come up and polish a documentary? What the hell? “Why would I interview Ximena and her father? Wouldn’t that give it away I know something they don’t?”
“They’re friends of the accuser. These pictures are from her IG page that’s now private.” Laura smiles like a woman who just received the best news of her life. I can’t blame the bitch; she’s a ruthless executive. All she sees are ratings and advertising dollars. “They’ll sit down. And Ricardo? He would love nothing more than to give an interview to clear his name.”
“Before we do any of that, we need to get one last person in on this. When you deal with assholes, Ariana, you tend to know a few good ones.” Thomas gets out his cell phone and dials. “Including one of the biggest ones out there.” He speaks into his phone. “Um, yes, Scott Reed, please? This is Thomas Ellison calling with an emergency. Thank you.”
Chapter Ten
There are no words to describe Scott Reed other than he definitely looks like the King of Assholes. A rather sexy King of Assholes.
He’s a tall man, well over six feet, and is surprisingly muscular. His hair is in
short, soft waves, with blonde highlights that I’m not entirely sure came out of a bottle. He looks like old money, cocktails, and fast cars. I’m pretty sure I’m right about all of that.
He has a sharp jawline, deep green eyes, and an air about him that screams he has no time for anyone’s bullshit. I’m not sure if I like him. I have a feeling if he wasn’t so hot, I would probably hate him.
I have no choice but to work with him. “Are you sure about this?” His Southern drawl is lazy and pronounced. “I need more evidence than just a hotel clerk claiming they saw something suspect. Anyone can say they saw something suspect and it doesn’t make it true.”
“We’re working on getting the hotel footage.” I reply to him as we meet in Laura’s New York office. A week after the late-night meeting, the news about Soul’s arrest has died down and he’s no longer a trending topic.
The blowback against him was swift, however, and a few models have already come out against him. A few magazines have stated they would no longer run his ads, while Soul still has a lot of support worldwide.
It also means my time is running out. I need to get the documentary polished and out to the world in less than a week. I’d already interviewed Soul and his parents. Savior and Ocean were gracious enough to interview with me (and they both apologized to me).
Ximena and Ricardo were a bit too eager to be interviewed. Ximena showed up looking like the finest prom queen of 1989 while Ricardo parlayed himself into some Mexican Godfather. It’s hard to fathom how either were taken seriously in politics.
The accuser, however, has gone incognito. She’s not returning any phone calls or requests for interviews. I have interviewed her attorney for the documentary and he was short and contrite as I expected. He feels Soul will be convicted without a doubt.
Which brings me to meeting with Scott Reed. He’s the wunderkind of the advertising world and is considered a different kind of genius for the crazy ads he puts out. He’s also a specialist in public relations and knows how to play the media before they play others.
A part of it is that he’s just a master at the media and public perception. Another part of it was the disastrous relationship he had with the trainwreck, Caprina Waters. He’s the master of turning the public either into one’s favor or against.
He’s helped a lot of wealthy families and society page name stays with their image: The Fergusons, The D’Amatos, and now the Ellisons. He can be both a friend and an enemy to the same situation depending who he works for.
He’s going to be the ace in my pocket. “The hotel has been very cooperative so it’s just a matter of time before we review it.”
“Now about the victim,” Scott leans forward and studies his notes. His platinum wedding band stares back at me. “Where is she?”
“Hiding,” Thomas interjects, “only speaking through an attorney. She claims she doesn’t want any press.”
“Because she wants money,” Scott says in a flat voice, “Soul is worth a whole lot and that’s what she wants for her pain and suffering.” He opens a messenger bag and takes out several folders. “You get a folder, you get a folder, everyone gets a folder.”
I open it up and see a dossier opened on McKenzie. Where she went to elementary school. Who her other friends are. Her credit report. All of her known addresses and alias. Where she frequently eats. The shops she goes to.
I’m mortified at seeing the report. I don’t doubt there was a similar one opened on me, Keisha, and Aaliyah. It seems any woman who encounters the Ellisons will get one opened on her regardless of her affiliation with the family.
I can understand why many victims don’t come forward. Every single detail about their past comes out in view for everyone to dissect. What if she’s just a housewife with a squeaky clean past? Is she going to be treated the same as a prostitute?
“You’re quiet, Ariana,” Scot reads my body language, “is everything okay? Do you need more information for your documentary?”
“Um...” I try to come to terms who I’m dealing with. This is beyond just false allegations; this is old money playing and they have the potential of ruining someone’s life. “...yeah, it’s fine.”
“Good. You have three days to get everything together. We’ll meet back here during that time.” Scott closes his messenger bag and stands up. “Soul, do me a favor and stay the hell out of trouble. I’m giving everyone three days because that’s how much time I have to make sure the press and media kits are set. I do not want to be unpleasantly surprised by any news that will upset me during that time. If you’re going to fuck up, do it on the fourth day where it wouldn’t matter. That’ll be all.” He leaves the conference room.
Laura sighs and smiles. “Worth every damn penny. And he’s not bad in the sack, neither.”
It was information I didn’t care to know but somehow I’m still appreciative of it, regardless. “He’s married.”
“Not when I had him but that wouldn’t have made a difference, anyway,” Laura gets up and gathers her belongings. “Gentlemen, you have homework. Three days. We’ll meet back in my office and go over a gameplan. See you then.” She heads out of her office and we all follow in tow.
I’m overwhelmed with the information and I’m still not sure if I want to go through with it. I want to clear Soul’s name but if I’m going to be destroying this girl’s life, it’s not worth it. None of it will be worth it.
“You okay, shorty?” Soul turns to me. “You don’t seem yourself.”
“I’m just a bit overwhelmed, that’s all.” It’s a lie and the truth at the same time. “I have a lot to do within 72 hours so I’m trying to figure out what’s important.”
“Take your time,” he says, “I know I lot is riding on this and I know you want to make it perfect.” He reads my face and he can tell not all is well. “If this is too much, shorty, don’t do it.”
“No, it’s not that,” I sigh and wait until we’re in the lobby and away from his father and lawyer. “I need concrete proof that McKenzie is lying and I don’t have that. If we’re going after her, it’s going to seem like we’re bullying her and this gives ammunition to all of the feminist movements that victims are bullied. They’ve already keep replaying your interview whenever they can. I need to get that footage from inside the hotel.”
“We’ll get it,” Soul assures me. “If not, we’ll have a Plan B in action.”
“And what’s that?” I ask. I don’t think I’m ready for the answer.
“Scott isn’t number one because he’s a nice guy,” Soul replies with an extra gruff in his voice. “That’s it.”
I don’t bother to ask for clarification because I already know what the answer will be. “Okay.” From my peripheral I see my car has pulled up behind Soul’s. “I’ll see you at home?”
“I need to go handle some business but I’ll be back later this evening.” He smiles at me. “I can’t kiss you because there are cameras watching. I’ll make it up later, boo.” He winks before he leaves.
I was advised by Scott and Thomas to not leave until Soul was gone for at least ten minutes so it wouldn’t appear we were together. Oh, the joys of dealing with a scandal inside a famous family.
As I wait in the lobby and see numerous people pass by me, going on with their lives, I can’t help but to think how lucky they are. They might be dealing with something like a late payment or even trying to figure out how they’re going to pay rent.
Those aren’t trivial things by any means. Yet, I wouldn’t give to trade places with them. I don’t have to worry about how I’m going to pay for anything because Soul covers it all. Yet, those people don’t have to worry about their lover facing rape charges and going to prison for life.
Just as I was about to entertain my IG, I get a text from Desiree: You need to come home now.
What’s up?
Alex got the footage.
And???????
You need to come home now.
Chapter Eleven
I don’t know
why I thought Desiree was going to be serious and brooding when I came home.
I expected to find a woman wringing her hands, her eyebrows furrowed, and taking deep, laborious sighs as she’s preparing to deliver the worst news of my life. The balance of my boyfriend’s hands is her hands and she’s trying to break the news to me in a gentle way.
But no. I don’t come home to see that. I come home to hear “Dirty Diana” blasting from the Bluetooth speakers while Alex is doing some sexy wind and Desiree is playing the air guitar. The fuck is this?
“Yo, Cousin!” Desiree won’t stop jamming and she needs to before I jam something up her ass. “Do you think this song is about Diana Ross? I think it is, but Alex says no.”
“There’s no proof this song is about her and Michael said it was about the groupies at the time.” Alex continues to wind.
“Everyone know he and Ms. Ross The Boss were hittin’ it! Are you kidding me?” Desiree continues to strum along. “You know she was feeling The Force!”
I turn off the stereo and they both stare at me. “I know you Negroes didn’t bring me home because you wanted to talk about Michael Jackson and Diana Ross hittin’ it.”
“Relax, damn.” Desiree has an air of stank that I killed her buzz. She can get high or drunk later. I need to save my man’s life. She walks over to the laptop with Alex and I hot on her tail. She presses a button. “Sit, watch, and be tempted to knock a bitch out.”
I stare at Desiree for a moment before I sit down. She presses a button and I see the highly anticipated drama feature of the year. It’s a clear shot of McKenzie leaving Soul’s room. She’s impeccably dressed.
She heads to the bathroom and disappears for a while. When she exits, I’m stunned to see her appearance.
Her hair is frazzled. Her makeup is smeared. Her dress is torn in various places. She has a few scratches on her arms and legs.
Everything was self-inflicted.
“Are we positive there was no one else in the bathroom with her?” I ask.
“Even if there was, it still exonerates Soul.” Desiree fast-forwards the clip and I see Soul exiting out of his room a whole three hours after McKenzie left the hotel. He went straight to the lobby and out the doors. He never returned. “The bitch is setting him up.”
