by Claire Adams
Before I could attempt my experiment yet again, she started her own experiment.
“Sawyer, as long as I’m being crazy with you… could I do one super-amazingly crazy thing that I’ll never ask to do again for as long as you know me?”
I had no idea what she had in mind. “Anything in the world, darling.”
She sighed. “Do you think… I could see your phone?”
“…What, like, you want to use it?” I asked surprised.
“No, I’m wondering who you were talking to yesterday,” she said to me. “And, before I drive myself crazy from the paranoia and suspicions, I think I’d like to just rip off the band-aid, you know? I… I want to know if there’s another girl. Oh God, I’m a lunatic. Oh, Sawyer, if you think I’m crazy, please just leave now. Don’t drag this out for a year and then break up with me.”
I was shocked. Partly, it was because I had never expected Hannah to be so forthcoming about something like that, and partly, it was due to the compromising position I found myself in.
I hadn’t erased any of the lewd text messages from my mystery caller. I also hadn’t deleted the nude photo that I had sitting near the top of my text message inbox. It also didn’t help that I had several texts from girls I had previously slept with on my phone, sent to me recently. I hadn’t responded to any of those texts, so I didn’t think those would hurt me. But I knew that the nude photo, with the texts sent around the photo, would be highly detrimental. I had to hold onto the notion that Hannah would realize I was with her during the time mentions.
At that moment, I regretted not simply deleting all the texts I had sitting on my phone. It would have all been taken care of in mere minutes if I’d just thought to delete them before.
But, I realized that I was in a dire situation. I thought about lying, but I hadn’t even thought up a lie to give her. I considered telling her that she had no business to look through my phone. Instead, I decided to go with my instincts, which told me that the truth was the right way to go, as usual.
“Okay, but can I tell you a little more about what’s been going on first?” I began.
She timidly nodded her head.
“I started getting texts a little over a week ago,” I said. “The person sending them claimed to be a woman who I met at Bauman’s. You ever been to Bauman’s?”
She timidly nodded again.
“Anyway, so I didn’t know who the person was. I would call, she didn’t answer. But, she kept texting me, but not saying her name or how I really knew her.”
“You didn’t meet someone at Bauman’s?” she asked.
“I haven’t been to Bauman’s in months. Whoever the person is doesn’t have good current information on me,” I replied. “This person, the one who texted me, is the one who called me yesterday. I called it back, but no one answered. In short: I don’t know who it was. I blocked the number so I would stop getting weird fucking texts. In fact…”
I pulled out my phone, unlocked it, and held it out for her to take.
“You try and make sense out of the nonsensical texts I had to read, and good luck,” I said to her. “I promise I’m not lying to you about anything. I just didn’t think you’d believe the truth. There isn’t any other woman. You’re the only one I want.”
I hated how that line sounded at the end, but she seemed to like it. Grimacing, she took my phone and began to tap and scroll around.
“Should I be blaming Jared for these insecurities?” I asked her.
“Yes,” she replied bluntly.
I took some solace in that. I didn’t want her suspicions to be driven by the idea that I was just going to lie to her like all the other guys had or that I was going against my hardened principles. It was better to me that the source of her worries was the ex-boyfriend and not the current boyfriend. Yet.
She was looking through a lot, even though I didn’t see directly what. I waited with unease and discomfort, watching her face go through multiple expressions.
I cleared my throat. “If you’re worried about those texts from other chicks—”
“I’m not. I saw that you didn’t respond to any of them,” she said. “I don’t delete texts all that much off my phone, so I get it.”
“I haven’t replied to anyone since I moved in here,” I stated.
“Yeah, I saw the dates,” she said, grinning. “Which one is the…?”
I deduced that she was about to ask where the text log was that carried the strange series of communications between the mystery woman and me… But, from her stunned silence, I knew that she had found it herself. The nude photo was right at the top, and she was looking at it. I waited for her to say something, but she gripped the phone in silence, growing angrier by the second.
I was afraid to lose her, and I floundered, not caring how pathetic I sounded. I couldn’t stand to witness her look any angrier than she did right then.
“I didn’t send this person any nudes, I swear,” I said to Hannah. “I don’t know who this woman is, I swear to God. Call that person right now—check my call logs—I haven’t kept that pic for a sick reason. I sometimes forget it’s even on there.
“It looks bad, I know. Frankly, that’s why I’ve neglected being entirely upfront. I understand if you’re mad at me, but… I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll stand by that.”
“I believe you,” she said.
I was relieved, but nearly in disbelief. “You… really? Why? I mean, that’s great, I appreciate you saying that…”
“So, all these texts she sent—these are the only times you two talked?” she asked me.
“Yes,” I replied.
Without wasting a moment, Hannah began dialing the mystery phone number on her cell phone. She pressed the phone to her ear, her anger still present.
“What’s going on?” I asked her.
Her eyes widened. She put her phone on speaker, revealing that the mystery number had actually picked the phone up.
We were silent, as were the people on the other line. I knew there was more than one person on the other end of the phone because I could hear a male and a female voice muttering indistinctly.
“Who is this?” I said into Hannah’s phone.
And with that, the mystery texter hung up on us. Hannah grit her teeth.
“I think… I might know who’s been texting you,” she said.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Hannah
I arrived at work the next morning to find my branch’s regional manager waiting for me by my desk. He escorted me into our conference room, where other members of management were seated around a table, waiting for me. I went along for the ride.
I was seated on one side of the table, while everyone else sat clumped together on the other side. They were unhappy.
“Why are we here, Ms. Stone?” the assistant regional manager asked.
“You tell me. My clients won’t take any of my calls,” I replied.
Some of them looked taken aback by my assertion. I wasn’t going to let these people try to intimidate me.
“Hannah,” the operations manager began, “What’s gotten into you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Begging her pardon,” said the assistant regional manager. “Ms. Stone, we’ve received notifications from some of your clients that you have been engaging in highly inappropriate and detestable behavior.”
I was highly offended by what I was hearing.
“What are you talking about?” I snapped. “What is going on around here? I get dropped by my top four clients with no explanation from them or you—none of you have talked to me about it.”
“You didn’t tell any of us about it,” the operations manager said snidely.
“I give you all a rundown every week like everyone else here,” I said, curling my hand into a fist. “I didn’t lie about anything. I reported my losses.”
They all remained silent for several seconds. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs.
“Those clients w
ere pretty big,” said the assistant regional manager. “You don’t think it warranted telling any manager at this branch about it?”
“I did,” I answered. “I was prepared to spend my day today working harder at reaching out to the clients who left. If my efforts would have been unsuccessful, I was going to consult management about it.”
They all remained silent again before the regional manager asked me, “Are you really going to pretend like you don’t know what we’re talking about?”
I knew that something was very wrong, but I didn’t know enough to realize fear yet. I scanned all their faces, many of which seemed to show genuine anger.
“Ms. Stone?”
“I’m not pretending anything, I just want to know what the hell is going on,” I said. “Assume I don’t know. Because I don’t.”
“Hannah,” said the regional manager, “the four aforementioned clients have all independently contacted our corporate offices to complain about verbal and sexual harassment from their Omicron representative, Hannah Stone.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was frozen.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Your clients have all given similar, but different, accounts that you contacted them, via text and emails, and sent them vulgar messages, many of which included offers for sexual favors in exchange for ‘renegotiated deals.’”
“Whoa, seriously, hold on, are you serious?” I stammered.
“I’m serious,” the regional manager continued. “And, I’m not finished. They also each had physical proof that you had indeed sent multiple nude photographs to each of your clients.
“Plinketto Superstore.” He put a file folder on the table. “Evans Technical.” He put another folder on the table. “Packard Law Offices.” Another folder. “And finally, Yates Hardware. They all felt compelled to send us their evidence firsthand. I am sorry if it is uncomfortable to know we have this, but… you must understand that it was uncomfortable for us to receive them.”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t comprehend what I was hearing.
“This is… murky, to say the least,” he continued. “I… well, frankly, I was utterly astounded. I would never have expected this from you.”
I snatched one of the folders off the table to face my doom.
It was appropriate that it was horrifying to see, because my imagination was only descending deeper into an emergency state of denial and this made it more real. I was indeed looking at printed out papers that had copies of different nude photos of me. There were six in total, and they were graphic.
And I had only sent these nude photos to one person.
While my managers continued to talk to me, I was busy rapidly putting together the pieces. I was figuring it all out. I was a part of a game, and I was a key player.
“Hannah… you can talk to us,” said the H.R. rep. “What’s going on? This isn’t about your… recent breakup, is it?”
I slammed the folder shut and grabbed all the folders together and pulled them to me. I was now the most livid person in the room, and I was prepared to attack.
“I didn’t send these photos,” I said. “I didn’t send any texts. I didn’t write any bad emails. You can check if you don’t believe me.”
They were quiet, brooding.
“You already looked through my emails,” I deduced, scoffing at them. “Then you’ll know I didn’t send anything like this to anyone. You have your facts wrong.”
“Then, help us make them right,” said the regional manager.
“I don’t owe any of you an explanation,” I persisted. “Someone sent out these personal photos without my permission.”
“If you didn’t send these pictures, who did?” asked the operations manager.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but I’m pretty sure I know exactly who it was,” I said.
“Try us,” said the regional manager.
“I’ve got a better idea,” I began. “Since you sat around with my nude photos for the last few days and didn’t say a word to me until now, I don’t owe any of you jack shit. Before you try to give the fake lecture, look at your own ethics first, you damn perverts.
“These clients are gone because of something bigger than Omicron. If I tried to explain it all, it would sound like a soap opera, and you’d lose interest after the first few minutes. But, I didn’t do any of this,” I motioned to the folders. “I’m innocent.”
“Who else would have access to your… personal photos?” asked the assistant regional manager.
“My ex-boyfriend,” I answered.
Many of the managers sat up straighter in their chairs.
“You believe your ex-boyfriend sent those photos and wrote those things to your clients?”
“In some form.”
“…I don’t follow.”
“I don’t care.”
With that, I scooped up the folders and took my exit, leaving my management team speechless. They didn’t leave the conference room for several minutes, but once they did, they kept a notable distance from me.
I invited Lisa out to lunch with me. We were at a Chinese restaurant across the street from Omicron. We sat down at a table near the door and kept our focus on our cell phones. She was surfing through social media while I was busy texting Sawyer.
“Why couldn’t Amy come along?” Lisa asked me.
“Not sure,” I replied.
“So, when is it okay to ask what happened in the conference room earlier?” she asked.
“You can ask me whenever you’d like.”
“Okay! What did they say to you in there? Was it about the clients?”
“Yeah, it was definitely about the clients,” I answered, attempting to chuckle.
“So… what did they say?”
I looked at her. I stifled my feelings and took a breath, spreading a fake smile as wide as my mouth could muster.
“They said a lot,” I responded. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Oh,” she said and instantly deflated. “Okay.”
Our waitress came over and took our orders. She gave us each a glass of water to drink and an eggroll as an appetizer.
“So,” I said. “I’ve been talking a lot about my guy lately. I feel like I’m doing all the talking! Tell me some boy stories, Lisa; it’s been a while.”
“Well… I—”
The door opened and there was Sawyer. He walked to our table, leaned over to give me a kiss, and sat down beside me at the table.
“Hi, baby!” I said to him. “Lisa, I know you two haven’t formally been introduced, but this is Sawyer! Sawyer, you might not recognize her with her clothes on, but this is Lisa.”
“I can tell it’s her,” said Sawyer, throwing in a childish smirk. “Hey, Lisa.”
“Hi?” Lisa said.
“Maybe I should explain,” I said to her. “When I got through texting Sawyer about what happened in that conference room… Well, it—what did you say after I told you all that, Sawyer?”
“I said I wanted to break all of Lisa and Jared’s fingers so that they could never engage in revenge porn ever again,” said Sawyer as he glared at Lisa.
“Don’t worry, he’s not going to do that,” I said, patting Sawyer’s hand.
“…Hannah, what’s going on?” Lisa asked in an innocent tone.
“That’s what I want to know,” I said. “Why are you sending naked pictures to my boyfriend, and why were you harassing him? Did you want me to think he was an asshole? Yes, what am I saying? Of course that’s what you wanted.”
Lisa chuckled. “Hannah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe you should show Hannah your phone, Lisa,” said Sawyer. “Yeah, let’s turn things around. Let’s look through your phone and see what we find.”
“Uh… what the fuck are you two smoking right now?” she laughed.
“I suspect we may find text messages between you and Jared,” said Sawyer.
&nbs
p; “Maybe there’s some emails on your phone that got sent to my clients,” I said. “Maybe I can look through it all to try and figure out what your problem is with me.”
“….Hannah. Seriously, what are you—”
I grabbed Sawyer’s phone and pulled up the nude photo texted to him, showing it to Lisa.
“I know this is you, Lisa,” I said. “I’ve seen you in a bikini before; I know you have a mole on your left breast just like the one in this picture in the exact same place.”
I opened one of the folders from the meeting and exposed a partial part of one of my nude photographs.
“I sent these nudes to Jared months ago, and now, somehow, they end up being sent to my four biggest clients. Jared didn’t know who any of my clients were. I wonder which people in my life do know about my clients?”
Lisa maintained the face of innocence, but occasionally, her smile would curve wickedly, almost like an animated villain.
“Jared framed Sawyer and tried to keep him in jail because he was so jealous of him,” I said, taking Sawyer’s hand into mine. “And after Sawyer got justice, Jared wanted to get back at him, didn’t he?”
“Tell me, has he been able to maintain an erection since I beat him up in his own apartment and made him leave?” Sawyer asked her.
“I demand to know what you’re doing,” I said to Lisa. She took a bite of her eggroll, attempting to buy time and shape her retaliation.
“You two are fucking crazy,” she said to us. “You belong together.”
“What would you do if I sent people your nude photos?” I asked her. “What would you do if I sent the picture that you sent to Sawyer to some of your clients? Or your friends? Or to strangers?!”
“Well, people actually want to see me naked, so I imagine they’d all enjoy seeing my nude selfies,” jabbed Lisa.
I laughed. “Is that so?”
“Tell me, when Jared came home to you during those last nights of your relationship, didn’t he smell like another woman’s perfume?” she asked.
I had the epiphany. Fortunately, I had been preparing for it, so I didn’t feel whiplash, but I was still numb.
