by Leddy Harper
Nolan Richards
* * *
“Oh my God,” I whispered through my fingers, which now covered my dry lips.
Shari turned to face me, and after a moment of not gaining my attention, she paused the movie. “What’s wrong? You look pale.”
“Nolan Richards sent me an email.”
She let out a gasp and then moved closer to me on the couch. “What did that prick have to say?”
“He said I’m no better than him and then asked if there’s anything I have to say for myself.” I finally removed my attention from the computer screen and gazed at her. A warmth of fury coursed through my veins, setting my body on fire.
“No better than him? What the fuck is he talking about?”
“Because of what I do for a living.”
“Is he seriously comparing your job to what he did to you in high school?”
My hands trembled uncontrollably. Adrenaline consumed me and left a ringing in my ears. Even after fifteen years, Nolan Richards had a way of getting to me. “Yeah. How can he possibly even think it’s the same thing?”
“He has some balls. What are you going to say back?” Her voice was full of venom as she inched even closer to me to offer reassurance.
“Nothing! I have absolutely nothing to say to the bastard. I said it all fifteen years ago. What more could I possibly have to say to him?”
“Defend yourself, Novah. Don’t sit back and take his shit—again. He was an asshole then, and it seems as though nothing has changed. Apparently, he hasn’t learned his lesson and still thinks what he did was okay. You need to let him know no matter how many years come and go, no matter what you do for a living, it doesn’t take away the horrible thing he did to you.”
“It’s pointless.”
Shari reached for my laptop, but I shoved her hands aside. She balled her fists in her lap and spoke through clenched teeth. “Then let me do it. If you won’t defend yourself, I will. Fifteen years ago, you let your parents fight for you. You let the school fight for you. You never did it yourself. You say you told him how you felt, but you never did. You recited a rehearsed speech in front of a room of people. Now is your chance to speak your mind. And if you won’t, then I will.”
God, I love Shari. She was forever and always my biggest supporter, my biggest cheerleader. Always in my corner ready to fight my battles. But I couldn’t allow her to take the bat for me this time. A thirty-year-old woman should be able to say what’s on her mind without her best friend coming up with the words.
“Okay, fine. I’ll respond, but I’m going to need another glass of wine first.”
Shari was all over it, bringing the entire bottle back with her from the kitchen. She topped off her glass and then handed me the rest. I drank it straight from the bottle as I mulled over the words I would use. I knew my response wouldn’t be classy, it wouldn’t be elegant, and it certainly wouldn’t be mature. Between the wine and Shari fueling my anger, I had fifteen years’ worth of words to use.
And then I began…
* * *
From: Novah Johnson
To: Nolan Richards
Subject: Re: Your profession…
Mr. Nolan Richards,
I wish I could say I’ve followed you and know what it is you do, but I’ve got to admit, you or your life don’t warrant even one second of my time. Yes, I take pictures of people. And yes, some of the time they aren’t fully clothed—some are even in compromising positions. However, what I do is not comparable to what you did to me. And here’s the difference.
I have their consent. I am hired to take their pictures. They approve the ones they want, and then I discard the ones they don’t. I don’t tell them things they want to hear in order to get them naked, and I certainly don’t touch them inappropriately. And as if I need to further explain the difference for you, I don’t spread their pictures around to all my friends with the sole purpose of humiliating them.
It’s clear you haven’t grown up, nor do you realize the negative implications of your actions. If you want to live in the past and beat a dead horse, then by all means, beat it. But do so without dragging me down—again.
You’re more than welcome to go fuck yourself,
Novah Johnson
* * *
“Good for you!” Shari cheered beside me after I hit send. “How do you feel?”
I rested my head against the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. “Like I’m fifteen all over again and I just had my heart ripped out of my chest. That kind of humiliation will never go away. Even when I think I’ve conquered it and it no longer affects me, it comes barreling back, takes hold of me, and then drags me down a dark hole.”
“Oh-kay. I think you’ve had too much wine, Confucius.” She leaned forward and took the bottle away.
“I’m being serious, Shari!” I sat up straight and stared irately at her. Every ounce of fury came roaring back to life inside my chest. The only problem was Shari didn’t deserve it—Nolan did. Unfortunately, since Nolan wasn’t here, my best friend had to be the one to take the brunt of it.
She backed off slightly, allowing room between us for my rage, and gave me space to get it all out. We’d been through this a time or two in the past, but not in years.
“I thought he liked me. I let him touch me because I thought he meant what he said. But he didn’t. He used me. And then he spread naked pictures of me—the same pictures he took while giving me an orgasm—and then the whole school saw it. My teachers. My principal. My fucking parents. My dad, Shari.”
The threat of tears burned the backs of my eyes. However, they weren’t caused by sadness or hurt feelings. They came with the anger, the blinding rage. Fury lit me on fire and I had no control over my natural reaction to it.
“What if that had been you, Shari? It’s humiliation to the hundredth degree. Is it supposed to somehow magically disappear? As if it never happened? Like I didn’t spend four years in high school with the same people who saw me…practically topless? No one had ever seen me naked before, and suddenly, after a few pictures, I was deemed a slut. A virgin turned into a fucking whore in a matter of minutes. So no, I haven’t had too much to drink. I’m pissed.”
“Good for you! Where was this anger when you were replying to him?” She shoved my laptop toward me so my hands rested on the keyboard. “It’s not too late; write him another email. Get it all out. Don’t hold back. You’re pissed and you have every right to be. You have every right to be heard. So do it…write him another one. And I better see at least seven f-bombs…one for each picture.”
I pulled the computer closer, hyped up, ready to pounce and spew my hatred for the man into words. But before I could hit reply, another email came through. And in an instant, the bubbling fury, the blinding hatred, turned into a thundering heart and shaky hands. Nervous didn’t even begin to describe my emotion. My stomach coiled and I feared I’d throw up, but I swallowed it down, opened the email, and braced for his response.
* * *
From: Nolan Richards
To: Novah Johnson
Subject: Re: Your profession…
Novah,
I had your consent. I asked if I could take your picture and you said yes. I told you when it happened, and I’ll say it again, I didn’t spread those pictures around. But you can believe what you want. I never told you anything simply to get you naked. Why would I need to? I could’ve gotten anyone naked, with very little persuasion. As for your comment about me not growing up, I have. But you ruined my life and I have held my tongue for long enough. The things you and your family accused me of are not valid or easily forgotten. And I have to live with those things every single day.
Nolan.
* * *
“Are you kidding me right now?” Shari read his words over my shoulder, her heated breath hitting my skin and igniting a fire deep inside me. “You were fifteen! He was eighteen! It’s child pornography, no matter which way you look at it.”
I didn’t eve
n respond to her. Instead, I typed away as fast as I could, letting the anger churn my thoughts into the words evolving on the screen in front of me.
* * *
From: Novah Johnson
To: Nolan Richards
Subject: Re: Your profession…
Nolan,
The last thing I want to hear about is how I’ve ruined your life. Nothing you have gone through even compares to what you put me through. And I don’t care what has followed you around every day. You don’t have to live with the memories of being exploited and ridiculed by everyone. Your daddy saved your ass as far as I’m concerned. Most people would have had charges brought against them for what you did. And no matter how you play it in your fucked-up head, it was child porn. I was young and you were legally an adult. Everything you did to me on your parents’ kitchen table was wrong. You should have known better, but instead, you took advantage of me. You robbed me of a normal high school experience. You robbed me of ever having true security. So don’t you dare compare what you’ve been through to what I have. I don’t give two shits about you and the pathetic life you’ve carved out for yourself. Or should I say, what your daddy has handed to you? Since we both know you’ve always had everything served up on a silver platter.
What I do for a living is art. Your audacity to try and turn my career into something distasteful shows the true scope of your character. What I do is classy and life changing. I can find the allure in anything, because I’ve refused to let you steal that gift from me. Your actions may have hurt me, they may have bruised me, but they did not break me. Not then and not now. I have grown up. I am now an adult. And I am living my life. It has been a decent life until I opened your email and allowed you to suck me back into the vortex. But I won’t let you do it anymore. I refuse to let you take anything else from me.
I have nothing more to say to you.
* * *
I breathed a sigh of relief, becoming more at ease than I had been fifteen minutes ago. But despite the weight lifted from my shoulders, the need to cry grew stronger.
I had never allowed myself to shed a tear over what he did. Even when it happened, I held all the tears in and never allowed myself to release the emotion. I had to be strong. I had to fight. With everyone looking at me, everyone talking about me, everyone seeing me, pointing fingers at me when I walked down the halls at school, I had to fight—prove I wasn’t the person those pictures portrayed.
I had been innocent, naïve, young. And if I’d shown any weakness, it would have only made it worse.
So, needless to say, I had never allowed myself to go through the motions of relieving myself of the pent-up emotions. And after fifteen long years, the bubble of anger seemed to rush to the surface, leaving me a shaking, blubbering mess.
I felt horrible breaking down in front of Shari. She needed me to be there for her and help her mend her broken heart. It’s the reason she came here—for me to take her mind off her failed relationship. She needed me to drink wine with her and watch men dying in battle while cuddling on the couch together. There wasn’t enough room for me to obsess over something I had allowed to happen in the first place.
My part in the whole situation was one thing I had never admitted out loud—I’d been just as responsible as Nolan when I allowed him to take those pictures. When I’d let him strip me of my clothes. And when I gave him permission to bring me to bliss with his tongue. He never forced me to do those things. I knew he had taken the pictures, but being naïve, I thought I’d show up at school on Monday and find him waiting in the hallway to walk me to class.
The one thing I hadn’t expected was discovering the pictures inside my locker, or the expressions on everyone’s faces as they found the same prints in theirs.
“I’m sorry, Share. This was supposed to be your night to cry,” I whispered as she wiped a tear from my cheek.
“Dude, I’m so over it. He’s an ass and not worthy of my time or your tears. You need me now, and I’m here for you.” She removed the laptop from my legs and pulled me into her side. Then she wrapped me up in a blanket until I fell asleep, dreaming of a time when a hazel-eyed boy told me how beautiful he thought I was.
And I’d stupidly believed him.
Two
“Come on, wake up,” Shari shouted at me from no less than a foot away. It felt like only moments had passed since I’d closed my eyes. “You have a shoot today, and we need to get going.”
My eyes fluttered open as I jumped up from the couch. I must have slept there all night because I still wore the same outfit from the day before—not to mention, I was in the living room instead of my bedroom. Once the fog of sleep began to wane, it hit me…it’s Saturday. I didn’t work on Saturdays. I didn’t have a photo shoot.
I flopped back to the couch and tried to ignore the pounding in my skull from the wine the night before. “Shari, go back to sleep. We don’t have work today,” I mumbled with my face pressed into the soft cushion.
“I booked you an appointment last night. Actually four. You have two today and two tomorrow.”
Her enthusiastic declaration caught my attention and I sat up again, waiting for the room to quit whirling before speaking. “Why? And who?”
“Why? Because it’s a lot of money. Six thousand for the entire weekend. I charged a fee for last-minute booking, a fee for it being a weekend, and a fee for it being sight unseen.”
I took in a deep, cleansing breath, trying to make sense of the fees she spouted off. “First of all, I don’t work on the weekends. Ever. Secondly, we don’t charge for last-minute bookings. And lastly, did you say sight unseen? What the hell does that even mean? And why are we charging extra for it?”
A smile lit her face and caused her midnight eyes to twinkle. “Well, this weekend we’re working. And for this client, we’ll charge any extra fees we want. I would have added on more if I thought I’d get away with it. I’m sure there’s an asshole fee I could’ve used. And yes, I said sight unseen. We don’t know what the models look like, nor what kind of poses or possible locations we will need.”
“Asshole charge? Where did this client even come from?”
The look crossed her face. And by “the look,” I mean the one she doles out when trying to hide something I won’t be happy about. Without answering me, she grabbed my computer off the coffee table and set it in my lap.
Splashed in front of my face were emails sent back and forth between Nolan and me.
Except, I had been asleep. So they were technically between Nolan and Shari. I couldn’t even look at her as I started to read the conversation before me.
Novah,
You say you can find the allure in anything. So I want to hire you.
I will send you four people, and I want you to find this so-called appeal you speak of in each one of them. I’ll even pay extra for your time on this. I’m sure you’re a very busy woman, and I’d like to have this done as quickly as possible.
Nolan
And then “my” reply:
Nolan,
I assure you, I can do exactly what you’re asking. But it will cost you.
Novah J.
In his reply, he proposed times, which “I” agreed to, and then “I” set the price and he agreed to it. I saw red, furious with my best friend for orchestrating this debacle behind my back.
“I don’t want his money. I don’t want anything to do with him.” My anger burned so bright, I worried I’d start to cry. “Why would you do this, Shari? I can’t believe this. Last night you were all about telling him off, and now? Now, you’re having me take his money and do this for him? Why?”
She sat next to me and placed her steady hand over my shaky one. “I don’t do well with challenges. When he suggested you wouldn’t be able to do what you’re so great at, I couldn’t say no. You know me.” She gave me another one of her famous looks—one eyebrow arched, lips quirked to the side, and big, rapidly blinking eyes. “Plus, I figured this will prove to him once and for all you haven�
�t let him bring you down.”
I shook my head, ready to have her call it off, but then she spoke again.
“Novah, listen to me. I held you last night while you cried yourself to sleep. You can tell yourself all you want that what he did to you hasn’t altered you somehow, but it has. And it goes beyond the humiliation you suffered all those years ago. I think it still haunts you. This is nothing more than your chance to show how much better you are than he is. Kind of like a giant fuck you!”
I was furious at her for taking charge of my life this way, and I hoped she could hear the menacing tone in my voice when I said, “I disagree with this entire situation wholeheartedly. I want that to be known in case this comes back to bite us in the ass. But it’s too late to turn back now without tarnishing my reputation. Just remember this: you’re on my shit list for a very long time. I’m really upset with you right now.”
“Fine. Be upset with me. I don’t care. You will look back on this and realize I was right. You need to do this for yourself. Don’t look at it as taking anything monetary from him. Look at it as a challenge, and you’re always great with those. I’ve never seen one you haven’t conquered.”
“Who do you think he’s sending to me? It’s evident he thinks these people are hideous, so what should I be expecting?” I asked as I threw on some clothes, getting ready to head to the studio.
“Knowing him, probably a homeless person. Or someone really fat or missing all their teeth.”
A smile spread across my face, causing my cheeks to ache as I grabbed my car keys. Honestly, no matter who he decided to send, I would be fine with it. I knew I’d succeed. In college, I had taken several award-winning photos of the homeless in downtown Tampa. Since then, I’d been hired to shoot several spreads for plus-sized models. Shari was right. This would be a challenge I knew I couldn’t fail at. Anything Nolan Richards found appalling would be something I’d find beautiful.
