Promise You Won't Tell?

by John Locke

“Now that the photos have hit the internet? Two or three million, easily.”

  “Which Gavin has already offered you. Without the hassle of a lawsuit”

  “True, but what’s the Clark and Bennett family name worth?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If the court finds out Ethan’s eighteen, even if he escapes jail time, he’ll be a registered sex offender.

  “Holy shit!” I say.

  “Exactly.”

  “So the number’s six million?”

  “It is. And Dani, I know it sounds like I’m taking advantage of the situation, but I guarantee he’d pay twice that much. This is a drop in the bucket for a guy who contributes three million a year to crooked politicians. I’m not exaggerating, I looked it up. And don’t forget, unlike his donations to politicians, he’ll get a tax deduction for this. Yes, this whole thing is nasty business. But I didn’t ask for it. And so far I’m the only one who’s had to suffer public humiliation for it. Gavin can keep it that way and help something good come out of all this by making a one-time contribution to a charity that will help me change people’s lives.”

  “You make a helluva case,” I say.

  The front door of her house opens. A woman comes out and stands on the porch and stares at my car.

  “Your mom?” I say.

  “She’s not too subtle, is she?”

  “Let me guess. She’s heard I’m gay?”

  “Once the toothpaste is out of the tube, there’s no pushing it back in.”

  “Well, I don’t blame her for being nervous,” I say. “I’m six years older, the windows are fogged, and I keep showing up to meet you in the car. Probably looks bad from her point of view.”

  We look at her mom a minute. Then Riley says, “I’ll be a good steward of that money, Dani.”

  “I believe you.”

  She adds, “Deserving kids are going to benefit from this. And if that means crooked politicians have to live without bribes for the next two years, I’d call it a good trade.”

  “I agree. I’ll give him the message.”

  She pauses. Then says, “Based on what you know of him, and what I’ve said about Ethan’s age, what’s your opinion? You think he’ll write the check?”

  I sigh. “Honestly? I think you’re reaching. The time element already made this a tough sale. Now you’re rubbing his nose in it by adding an extra million.”

  “You think I’m gouging him.”

  “This is your party, Riley. I’m just delivering the cake.”

  “What would you do if you were me?”

  “I would’ve taken the million. So you know I’d take the three.”

  We’re quiet a minute, two women sitting in a car, in the dark, under the watchful gaze of a concerned mother.

  When her mom starts flipping the porch light on and off, Riley says, “I agree.”

  That surprises me.

  “You’ll take the three million?” I say.

  “No. The number’s still six. But I agree he’s going to say no.”

  The porch lights flicker faster, almost like a strobe light.

  I say, “But you still want me to tell him six million?”

  “Yes.”

  “And if he says no?”

  “Then hand him this.”

  She unzips a pocket on the right thigh of her cargo pants and removes a CD, places it in my hand.

  “Riley! Omigod! Is this—”

  “Don’t ask. But promise me something.”

  “What?”

  “Do not show this to Gavin unless you’re convinced he won’t pay the six million.”

  “You want me to play it for him or give it to him?”

  “Give it to him, and tell him it’s a copy. But promise you won’t watch it.”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “Please, Dani. You have to promise me.”

  “That’s bullshit, Riley. I need to see what happened. I’ve put a lot of time into this case. You said it yourself, I’m emotionally invested. You have to let me see it. Otherwise, it’ll eat at me the rest of my life.”

  “Dani, I’m counting on you not to watch it. I really want to believe in you. Everything I will ever think about you from this point forward hangs on your promise. If it’s too much to ask, tell me now, and I’ll have it couriered to Gavin tonight.”

  I sigh. “Seriously, Riley?”

  “Please, Dani.”

  I sigh again, shake my head. “Fine. You have my solemn promise.”

  “Thanks, Dani.”

  She hands me two slips of paper.

  “What’s this?”

  “One is the information about my charity.”

  “And the other?”

  “A check made out to you from my charity. Post-dated.”

  “That is so sweet of you,” I say. “But I can’t accept it. That would make me a party to the transaction.”

  “You are party to the transaction. You’re the go-between.”

  “Yes. And if anyone ever shows up to ask me what part I played, I’d like to be able to claim neutrality.”

  “So you won’t let me pay you anything for all your work?”

  “Do you have a dollar on you?”

  She reaches in her pocket. “I have three ones and two fives.”

  “I’ll accept one dollar, as your paid messenger, to deliver this CD to Gavin Clark, without personally watching it. How’s that?”

  “Deal!” she says. “Thanks, Dani!”

  She hands me the dollar, and kisses my cheek.

  The passenger door suddenly flies open, startling us.

  Riley’s mom shouts, “I knew it! Get the fuck off my property, whore, and leave my daughter alone!”

  Riley scrambles out of the car and shouts, “Thanks for the sex, Dani!” Then laughs when her mom shouts, “You think that’s funny?”

  I shake my head. It’s tough being me. I start the car and put it in drive. Then call Gavin, who answers with, “What did she say? Did she agree to the three million?”

  “I haven’t had time to talk to her yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Her mom interrupted us. But it’s okay. Riley will be back out any second. I just wanted you to know I’ll be a few minutes late.”

  “I’ll be here when you get here.”

  I hang up, then drive to my office, fire up my computer, remove the CD from its case, and slide it in my CD drive.

  I’m keeping my promise to Riley. I agreed not to watch the CD, and I won’t. But I didn’t agree not to make a copy.

  Am I splitting hairs?

  Of course. Look, I’m sorry, but I did not go through all this just to walk away while the answer is literally in my hands.

  I have to see what happened.

  I have to know. And don’t get all high and mighty with me, because you would have done the exact same thing.

  So don’t even go there!

  After making the copy, I put it in my safe, unwatched. Then I put the original CD in my handbag, and drive to Gavin’s office.

  “What did she say?” he says, before I even manage to take a seat. Then he says, “I should have stuck to the two million, shouldn’t I? The minute you left I regretted going to three. No way she would’ve turned down two million.”

  “But you did say three, right?” I say, ugly streak still intact.

  His face falls. “Fuck. Two million would have done it. I knew it!”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” I say. “She turned you down.”

  “Sh-she what? What? She turned—what?”

  He’s really upset. This is no longer fun for me. I don’t enjoy seeing anyone squirm like this.

  He yells, “You told her three million, right? What are you talking about, she turned me down?”

  I don’t hate him as much as I did when I thought he erased the photos on the boys’ phones. That would have made him guilty of destroying evidence. What he’s really guilty of is loving a rotten son, and cleaning up after him his w
hole life instead of letting Ethan take responsibility for his actions. Yes, Gavin’s shady. And I’m not sure what role he might’ve played in Parker Page’s confession. Or why he got it from her in the first place. Or how he planned to use it. But like I say, I’m not enjoying this.

  I’m not looking forward to telling him about the extra million she’s demanding, either.

  He yells, “I’m not sure you’re representing me properly, Ms. Ripper! I think you might be working against me! What the fuck is going on here? If I find out you’re milking this situation, I’ll—”

  But here’s the thing: I don’t hate mentioning it, either. It’s kind of nice to see the bully get a beating.

  “She said no to your three million, but she made you a counter.”

  I hand him the piece of paper with the information about her charity.

  “What’s her number?” he says. “Three-point-five?”

  “Six.”

  “Three-point-six?”

  “No, sir. Six million.”

  “Get the fuck out of here!”

  “Seriously? You want me to leave?”

  “No, asshole. It’s an expression. What the hell are you talking about? What happened to five million?”

  “She said your counter was an insult. She feels the case is worth twelve million. She thinks you’re getting off easy.”

  “This fucking gutter snipe thinks I’m getting off too easy by blackmailing me to the tune of six million dollars?”

  “I don’t think she considers it blackmail.”

  “Explain the logic behind that comment.”

  “You offered her a million dollars to go along with a lesser charge. She countered your offer.”

  “By threatening to expose something that could cause a royal shit storm! I don’t know what constitutes blackmail in Cincinnati, where you’re from,” he says. “But here in Nashville, a rectum’s the same as an asshole.”

  “Do you plan to charge her with blackmail?”

  “For six million dollars I will.”

  “Can I make a recommendation?”

  “What?”

  “Pay the money.”

  “What?”

  “You should pay it and move on.”

  “Out of the question! Preposterous!”

  “Why?”

  “By raising the offer, she’s already proven she can’t be trusted. Dollars to donuts that little whore will find a way to leak the evidence. She’s probably in cahoots with Parker. Probably got Parker to put the photos on the internet in the first place. What’s going to keep her from putting this other shit on the internet?”

  “I understand you’re upset. But I can’t abide you calling Riley a whore. And while we’re at it, don’t you ever use the “C” word in my presence again, as long as you live. You must know how offensive it is.”

  “For six million dollars I’ll say any fucking words I want.”

  His comment puts me in mind of Jana Bagger, may she rest in peace.

  “Don’t think of it as blackmail,” I say. “Think of it as a tax deduction. You’re going to come out of this looking like a hero. Your son pleads guilty to a momentary lapse of judgment, but you feel so badly for Riley you contribute six million dollars to her charity, to help underprivileged kids get scholarships to private schools. You’ll get incredible press for it, and Ethan won’t suffer any permanent damage to his reputation.”

  “No. I will not be shaken down by this two-bit whore.”

  “I’m warning you, Gavin. For the last time.”

  He glares at me, then says, “Fine. I’ll try to watch my language. But my answer is no.”

  “Sleep on it.”

  “No. I’m drawing the line.”

  “This is your pride talking. Think of all the ramifications.”

  “Ethan will just have to roll the dice. It’s time he took responsibility for his actions. You can tell little Miss Strawberry Snatch that the legal system is often what the attorneys and judges say it is. Tell her other people can leak shit, too. Like maybe her best friend’s confession got taped, and that shows up on the internet. What does that do to Riley’s precious case? And don’t forget, there is no conclusive evidence of sexual assault. Try to shake me down for six million dollars? Well, fuck her!”

  “Is that a no?”

  His face looks meaner than a carbuncle.

  “It’s a no. Tell her I’m going to bury her. I’ll make it my life’s mission.”

  “Is that your final answer?”

  “Final and forever. And damn her to hell!”

  I stand, start walking to the door.

  He says, “Wait.”

  I turn.

  “If I offer her the original five million, what do you think she’ll say?”

  “I think she’ll say seven. Or eight.”

  He sighs. “I think so too.”

  I wait.

  He says, “What if I demand to be on her charity’s board of directors?”

  “She’ll say no.”

  He nods.

  I wait some more.

  His face appears to age ten years before the words come out.

  “I’ll pay the six million,” he says.

  I’d tell you how shocked I am, but I’m not even mildly surprised. That’s why I stood up and walked to the door without handing him the CD. I knew he’d stop me before I walked out the door. Knew he’d pay Riley’s price.

  I look at him, wrung out, slumped in his chair, hair all over the place, head in his hands. This is what a thoroughly beaten man looks like.

  It’s not a pretty sight.

  I say, “Can I ask you a question?”

  “What?”

  “How does one go about dotting the “I’s” and crossing the “T’s” on this type of deal?”

  His voice comes out in a low monotone, as if adding inflection might cost him extra. He says, “Everyone’s forced to trust each other. Nothing will be in writing, but we’ll both have to show good faith. I’ll give her a certified check on Monday and she’ll give me the evidence she’s using to blackmail me. She’ll tell me she’s given me everything, but we’ll both know she’s lying. But that won’t stop her from fulfilling her end of the bargain. If she does, everyone wins. If she fudges on the deal, I’ll find a way to destroy her through her charity. There are a hundred ways I can rig a scandal, and she knows it. The likelihood is, everything will work out, and we’ll publicly pretend we’re friends. You’re right, I’ll probably look like a warm-hearted hero for a while. Even as she’s dissecting my nut sack.”

  “Will you be in touch with her from this point on?”

  “No. She’ll have an attorney. No one will know about this. You’ve already signed a confidential agreement, and I can’t stress enough how badly things will go for you if you tell anyone what happened here. I’ll give you the certified check on Monday. You’ll take it to Riley, and she’ll hold it until the sentencing phase takes place. After that, she’ll deposit it, and probably schedule a press release. Tell her I’m open to that, but I want to see her draft and have the right to make changes.”

  “Okay.”

  I say goodbye, reassure him he’s made the right decision, head out the door, and walk to my car. I climb in, turn on the engine, lower the seat till I’m comfortable, and lie there, listening to the radio.

  Thirty minutes pass, then forty.

  Then he calls.

  “Where are you?”

  “In my car, in your parking lot.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve been waiting for you to call, to tell me you’ve changed your mind.”

  “You’re right. I have. It’s just not worth six million.”

  “Yes it is, Gavin.”

  “No, it’s not. I’ve looked at it from every angle. I’m willing to take my chances in court.”

  “In that case, I have one last thing to give you.”

  “I’m coming down.”

  When I hand him the CD he says, “What’s this supposed to be?�
��

  “I can’t say for certain, because I haven’t seen it. But I’m pretty sure it’s a video of everything that happened to Riley Saturday night.”

  He has to put his hand on the roof of my car to keep from falling down. I expect him to yell and scream, or cry, or possibly drop to the ground and curl up in a fetal position, but he does none of those things.

  Instead, his face breaks into a wide grin.

  “Why didn’t you give me this earlier?” he says.

  “She made me promise only to give it to you as a last resort.”

  “I could kiss you right now!” he shouts.

  “I’ve got a gun that says you can’t.”

  I show him my gun, just to make sure.

  “She went too far,” he chortles.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She bet the house and lost. If this is, in fact, video evidence of the event in question, it proves the whole thing was a setup. You don’t have to let me kiss you, but I certainly owe you dinner. Because you didn’t just save me six million dollars, young lady. You saved my son’s reputation. And the agony of a legal battle.”

  I sigh.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This has been a bad day for you,” I say. “And it’s about to get worse.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Riley didn’t make this video.”

  “Of course she did.”

  “No. Mitch Underhill made it.”

  “Who?”

  “Kelli’s stepfather. Mitch installed cameras in Kelli’s bedroom last year. He’s been taping her ever since. His wife, Lydia, found dozens of CDs yesterday. They believe it’s the reason he committed suicide today.”

  “He was spying on his own daughter?”

  “Stepdaughter. And his surveillance equipment was running when Riley passed out in Kelli’s room.”

  Though the parking lot is dimly lit, I can see Gavin aging again, right before my eyes. Like one of those time-lapse videos that takes less than a minute to see a guy losing weight over the course of a year.

  “Have the police seen this?”

  “I only have personal knowledge of two copies existing in the world. And this is one of them.”

  “Have you seen it?”

  “I have not. Riley made me swear a solemn oath not to look at it. Even with you.”

  “It must be really bad.”

  “I can’t imagine her giving it to you if it wasn’t.”