by Lori L. Otto
“I have no plans to go anywhere.”
“Stay in the state.”
I raise my brows, and my heart races. Suddenly, my entire body feels weighted down. I think I’d been working on an adrenaline rush, and the adrenaline just ran out. I’ve never been so scared in my life. My legs feel weak as they lead me back out into the lobby of the station. Dad is waiting with his lawyer.
“They need the security company’s number,” I mumble to him in a monotonous voice. He looks just about as terrified as I feel.
“Sure,” Dad says.
Our lawyer steps forward. “I’m Danny Reese, representing Trey Holland. Is my client under arrest?”
“No, but we need him to stay in the state while we finish our questioning. And we definitely need that security footage.” Danny has the information readily available.
“Did they handcuff you?” Dad asks.
“No, Dad. I’m fine. I kind of just want to go home.” His lawyer drove him here, so the three of us ride together back to Columbia. I’m interrogated all over again on the way back to my apartment, just recounting what the police asked me and providing my answers as best as I can remember. The drive isn’t long enough to get through everything Danny wants to know.
“Should we finish this conversation upstairs?” my father asks.
“Dad,” I say, knowing I have to give a firm no in response because he wouldn’t understand nor approve of Coley being at my apartment, “I was up all night rewriting Coley’s article for her because she was, uh… dealing with this,” I tell him. “I’m exhausted. It’s late. I skipped all of my afternoon classes today so I’ll have to make up the work tomorrow. I really need to get some sleep.”
“If you think of any question you’re concerned with, Trey,” Danny says, “please email me and your father.”
“Okay,” I tell him. “Dad, I’m sorry about all of this.”
“Jackson, you’ve done nothing wrong. We’ll get past it. Go get some sleep and call me between classes tomorrow–or if there are any new developments.”
“I will.”
“Keep your distance from Asher,” he instructs.
“Don’t tell him you spoke to the police,” Danny adds.
“Okay. Good night.”
I half-expect to see reporters or paparazzi outside my building, but it’s quiet when I get home. The doorman greets me, and the night concierge has the elevator open for me when I come in.
“Thanks.”
I text Coley as I ride up to let her know I’m on my way. I don’t want to startle her with the alarm. She’s peeking out my door when I turn down the hallway.
“I was worried you weren’t coming back tonight,” she says.
“There were a few moments when I was worried about that, too.”
“Did they fingerprint you and stuff?”
“No,” I tell her, following her in and setting the alarm myself. She’s wearing patterned pants and a white robe that’s barely covering a lightweight graphic t-shirt. I’m not sure how she can make that ensemble look sexy, but she can and is. I veer off into the kitchen as she goes back into the living room to her books. “Need anything to drink? Brain food? Anything?”
“I’m good.”
“I know I swore I wouldn’t drink and talk to you again, but I’d really like to have a glass of something, if you don’t mind. My nerves are shot.”
“Go ahead. And Trey, I’m not mad about the other night. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I led you there. You just followed. It wasn’t fair of me to do that. I was just feeling a little brazen. It was either the bourbon or the clothes I was wearing. Possibly a mixture of both–”
“Let’s just not talk about the clothes you were wearing.”
“You didn’t even see them,” she argues, scrunching up her nose. I can see freckles all the way from here.
“I have a fantastic imagination, Coley. I don’t need to. I can’t even look at you in the gear you’ve got on now.” I toss the blanket at her from the back of the couch. “And I shouldn’t have said that to you, either. And I’m perfectly sober. But I am so damn sleep-deprived right now.” I set my drink on the coffee table and nearly collapse next to her on the couch. “I’m delirious.”
She covers herself with the blanket and cuddles into the opulent sofa.
“Did you tell the police about Lucy?”
“No. I don’t think it’s my place to tell.”
“No,” she says. “I got the other girl’s name. Kamiesha Williams. She sent me an email. Lucy actually spoke with her and explained that we were doing a story on sexual abuse at Columbia. She said she wanted to tell her story. I’m interviewing her during class on Wednesday.”
“Do you want me to come?” I ask, kicking off my shoes and putting my feet up on the chair next to me and taking a long sip of my drink.
“I think I can do it.”
“Okay. I know you can. All right, laureate. Remember that going-to-bed thing I was going to do hours ago? I’m going to attempt that again. Any questions about anything?”
“Do you snore?”
“No,” I tell her. “I’m in an entirely different room anyway!”
“I have exceptional hearing. So where are the earplugs when you start to snore?”
“I do not snore. I’m the quietest sleeper you’ll ever meet. Scout’s honor. But I do sleepwalk.”
“So… lock my door.”
“I also pick locks in my sleep.”
“Now you’re just making shit up.”
“Well… the doors don’t lock, so I don’t pick locks in my sleep. Or sleepwalk. Listen, you won’t even know I’m here, even though my room is next to yours. That, I promise you. You should have everything you need in your bathroom. The hot and cold water is labeled backwards on the faucet. Towels are in the cabinet.”
“Go to bed, Trey. I’ve already gone through all your stuff and taken a moderately-uncomfortable lukewarm bath.” I laugh, but wish I’d remembered to tell her about the faucet before I left. “I’m way ahead of you.”
“I’m glad you’ve made yourself at home.” I finish off my drink and take my glass to the dishwasher.
“When’s your first class?” she asks.
“Eight.”
“Mine, too. I’ll walk with you?”
“Not if you’re not a morning person… I hate grumpy people in the morning.”
“I guess you’ll find out at seven-thirty. Good night.” God, I love her smile.
“Good night, laureate. Don’t stay up too late.” I grab a wrapped chocolate from the basket on my counter and take it with me as I go down the hall to the bedrooms. Stopping by the guest room, I turn down the bed sheets, setting the small candy on the pillow Coley brought. I notice a prescription bottle on the night stand. It’s none of my business.
In my room, it’s quiet and my bed beckons me. I strip out of my clothes to my briefs, kicking everything to the corner near the hamper where I may end up putting them in the morning, but right now, I’m too tired. I have just enough energy to brush my teeth and wash my face, but nothing more.
In the mirror, I wonder how long my hair has looked this disastrous and run my fingers through it a few times. Zaina would have fixed it for me, or would have told me to fix it. Yes, Trey. Tasks for girlfriends. I flick off the bathroom light on the way out and fall onto the bed, not even bothering to get beneath the comforter. One arm wrapped around my pillow, I tuck it close to my head and hear a piece of paper crumple in my grasp. Curious, I feel around, finally finding a note tucked into my pillowcase.
We tango
A tantalizing trip
Too tempting at times
To twirl apart
You talk
I take
We trust
Standing astride a dividing line that confines
It’s taboo
Tenderly
Truth taps
We toe the line
Tune into the taciturnity
It’s all transpa
rent
We let go
After plugging in my cell phone, I send her a quick text.
- I was hoping to get a good night’s sleep. Now you’ve just got me thinking about things.
- - That wasn't my intention. I was trying to take some of the burden off of you.
- I get it… and I will say no more. You’re right.
- - Good night.
- You rhymed.
I tap off the rest of the lights with an app, only realizing after I hear Coley squeal in the other room that I’ve cut all the lights in the apartment. “Sorry!” I yell, finding the living room and hitting the on-switch for that section. “Not used to having people stay with me.” I mumble to myself.
This is all that Zaina had wanted when she was in town. An invitation to stay with me while she was here. The thought of her living with me stressed me out. On the nights she did stay over, they weren’t planned in advance. They happened because it was late when we were fooling around and I didn’t want her to leave. While she was overjoyed that she got to stay over, my reasons for her staying could have been attributed to two of the seven deadly sins: lust and sloth. Not anything to be particularly proud of.
I can honestly say I had no ulterior motive for having Coley over, though. I won’t say I haven’t had a few lustful thoughts about her since she’s entered my apartment, but the invitation came from a pure place and the most significant thing is that I had no fear or panic or stress at the thought of her staying over.
In fact, it’s comforting knowing she’s in the other room.
chapter twelve
“You’ve got your questions for Kamiesha?” I ask Coley before our Wit class on Wednesday. “With the ones I gave you?”
“Yes, boss,” she says with sass. “What are you gonna do about Asher?”
I shake my head, not having come to a definitive solution for that one yet, even though I’d lost plenty of sleep over it last night. I hadn’t spoken to him since I ran out on him at lunch on Monday. He hadn’t reached out to me; I hadn’t tried to contact him. I knew he’d convinced someone to lie to the police about me; fortunately, the evidence I’d presented and my own testimony was enough to clear me. I wondered if any of the information I’d supplied to the cops had gotten back to him yet. All I know is that Stanley said he was at the frat house last night, which forced me to create an excuse as to why I wouldn’t be coming to our chapter meeting.
“Just don’t go anywhere with him,” she says.
“I won’t. Text me when you’re done with the interview. I’ll meet up with you for lunch, if you have time, and we can talk about it.”
“Okay.”
Inside our workroom, Asher sits in the back, his menacing stare affixed on me as soon as I walk in the door. I place my things on my table before letting my advisor know that Coley will be missing class for an interview. She submitted her first article for the week last night to our editor inbox, so she’s up-to-date on her assignments.
“What are you working on today?” she asks.
“A special assignment for Pree,” I tell her, even though Pryana never asked for Coley and me to chase down these leads or to help her positively identify her attacker. “Coley and I are actually working on a story together. An investigative piece.”
“I look forward to seeing what you two do together. Do you need me or Asher to take a look at anything today?”
“I’m good,” I tell her.
“I’m happy to help,” he says, walking toward us. “What are you working on?”
“Something Pree asked me to keep to myself for now,” I tell him. “We’ll get you involved when you need to be. Don’t worry.”
He looks at me skeptically. “Nothing goes into this paper without my knowledge.”
“No, sir,” I say, challenging him with my tone. My stance. My gaze.
“Everything okay here?” Professor Aslon asks.
“Gets better every day,” I tell her.
“Happy to hear that, Trey. I need a status update from you,” he says to me. “Before class is over, I need an outline or rough draft of whatever you’re working on.” As the editor-in-chief, he’s been given the authority to request this from us, particularly if he’s lacking articles for the next edition.
I look back to my professor.
“He’s in charge,” she says.
I nod and shrug my shoulders. “Fine.” Fortunately, he can only suggest grades to Aslon; she’s ultimately responsible. Whatever I turn in won’t matter too much. “I’ll send what I have, provided you give me your word you’ll share it with her.”
“Sure,” he says, not thinking twice about it.
“I’ll just send her a copy after I upload it to the inbox, then.”
“I should read it first,” he says, having second thoughts.
“No, that’s not what you said.”
“She doesn’t read anything without it being edited first,” he rattles off her rule.
“That’s true, Trey,” she confirms.
Keeping my cool, I return to my desk and pull out my laptop, open up a Word document and start typing.
Formalities Aside
Late last Saturday night, while love did the expected on Valentine’s Day and brought many couples together, it was decidedly absent from whatever went on in a small apartment on West 116th Street. It was supposed to be a date between friends. A time when two people with similar interests but vastly different paths in life would experience a fun, yet casual, time together outside of their typical environment. It turned out to be a markedly forgettable night.
Forgettable for at least one of them.
Note to Asher: Help me out here. I don’t understand why the two of you went to The Wit offices. And why did you lie to me and tell me you called a car to take her home? I saw you both get out of a car and go into the building.
Also, correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you the only one of us with after-hours access? Something I just thought of and probably should have mentioned.
I’d considered adding a line about why it was forgettable for the woman on this date, but I don’t want to give away what I know.
That’s enough to whet his appetite.
After connecting to the school’s Wi-Fi, I upload it to his inbox and immediately walk to the back of the class where he sits to await his comments.
His face falls in awareness as he reads. When I see his fists clench, I prepare for the worst.
“Mother fucker!” He comes at me quickly, and with a ten-foot lead, packs a lot of force into the assault attempt, but I feel like I’ve just been through this–which I have, with Joel–and take him quickly by the shoulders, spin around, and pin him up against the wall. He’s never been much of an athlete, and my height is a strength here, too. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you know!”
“What is going on?” Professor Aslon shouts as he struggles to fight me. I have no interest in that. I simply stare at him, admittedly gloating at him. “What in the world?”
“He asked to see my draft. I guess he didn’t like it,” I say, only letting go of him when other guys from the paper have surrounded us and I feel like they’d help defend me if he lunged.
“Asher, my God,” she says. “I’ve never seen you act like that.”
His eyes are wild–with fear. He looks genuinely scared.
“He can’t turn that shit in. Tell him he can’t turn that shit in!” he yells at her.
“I don’t even know what it is, Asher,” she explains.
“It’s crap. It’s lies. It’ll get him sued. It’ll get the paper sued. The school,” he says, threatening. “He’s got no proof.” He’s broken out into a sweat, and although my heart is racing, I feel a sense of calm.
“The story isn’t finished,” I explain, “but I’ve got evidence...”
“Obviously not enough, if I’m still here,” he says smugly.
“I want to be thorough, and I want to make sure it sticks.”
“Trey, what are
you working on?”
“It’s libel. We won’t print it, Trey,” Asher vows.
“If you’re not here to make that call, then the decision falls onto… whom? Pryana?”
“I’ll be here. Can’t say the same for you, you dick.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No different than what you’re doing to me,” he says.
“It’s very different, Asher. Where are you suggesting I’ll be, huh?”
He pushes past me and sits back down at his desk, typing quickly at his keyboard. “Story’s trash, Trey. It’s bullshit. You know what? They’re remodeling the women’s bathroom in the library. No one’s taken that story. I need you on it.”
“Asher?” Professor Aslon says. “No. Trey? Get your things. We’re taking a walk.”
“To where?” Asher asks.
“It’s not your concern,” she tells him. “Just get back to work.”
She takes me downstairs and to her office. “I don’t want to see you here the rest of the week,” she says.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know what happened to Pree… but two NYPD cops came and interviewed me yesterday and asked if there was a way to see if anyone had come into the offices over the weekend. I don’t know why they decided to come here, but Asher badged in, and the motion-activated camera in the design lab recorded them together.
“They told me not to ask him about it.”
“Well, I asked him about it. I saw them going into the building after our formal. He denies he was here. In fact, someone suggested to the police that I may have followed her here.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything, but is she okay?”
“From what Coley says, she’s still very traumatized by it all. I’m sure she won’t be back in this class as long as he’s here.”
“What do you have, aside from your word against his?”
“Well, you have hard evidence,” I tell her. “Coley and I have located two other girls who he’s raped. I actually walked up on one happening–the girl said she was okay at the time, but she admitted the other night that she was telling him no.”
