by C. L. Ryder
“I guess I’m the only one who can. I don't know if she’ll listen to me, no matter how much she likes me, but you’re right. Winny needs our help, even if she doesn't know it.” He laughed. “But in the end it's a choice that she’ll have to make.”
“You’re right. But it definitely wouldn’t hurt to give her a nudge.”
“Linda can be a difficult woman, but she’s not completely cold. I’ll need to wait until the right time to bring this up.”
Driving home, I felt happy about the situation. I knew that Linda really liked and trusted Frankie, so I was optimistic about his chances of getting through to her.
I spent the next week eager for news, but got no word back from Frankie. The week after that I had all but forgotten about it. I had to, or else I would’ve spent every moment of the day wondering what was going to happen and if Linda would turn a cold shoulder to Frankie too. She loved Frankie, and I hoped that it wouldn't come to that point.
Winny finished work on her new album, and she brought me in to the studio one night after all the recording technicians and everyone else had already left for the day. We sat together on the couch in the studio mixing room and listened to it. When I asked her what she thought about it, she only said that she was sure the fans would love it. When we came back to the apartment, I asked her to play me a song on her guitar. She sat on the bamboo mat, leaning over her acoustic guitar as she strummed a cover of Van Morrison’s “Have I Told You Lately”. I sat cross legged on the ground, my chin in my hand as I gazed up at her with stars in my eyes and my heart quickening in my chest.
She smiled at me as her fingers drew out the last chord of the song, letting it slowly fade out on its own. “I love you, Lily,” she said softly, setting the guitar to the side and kissing me softly on my lips.
“I love you too,” I said, smiling. I stroked her thigh, enjoying the smoothness of her skin.
“I want to show you something,” she said, and went over the bookshelf against the wall. She pulled out a brown leather portfolio case and brought it over to the mat, and then unzipped the gold zipper around its edge. From it she pulled out a series of large prints, and I saw that they were diagrams for a building. She laid them out across the bamboo mat, and on a closer look I realized that they were designs for a house. I recognized the inner courtyard garden and all the elements that Winny had told me about her dream project.
“This is your house,” I said.
“These are my designs from my last year in the program. I’ve never showed them to anyone except my professor. They’re not perfect, lots of things I’d need to learn to turn it into a viable home.”
“It looks pretty incredible to me,” I said.
“I want to build it for us someday,” she said, and I smiled at her.
“If you say things like that I might actually believe you.”
“I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about what you said to me the other week, and I’ve decided that I’m not going to sign a new contract.”
I nearly choked. “What?”
“It’s the first step in a long process, but I’m going to tell Michael, and my mom, that I don’t plan on renewing my contract for more albums. And then I’m going to go back to school for this stuff.”
It was probably the last thing I could’ve expected Winny to say. I leapt up and threw my arms around her, kissing her long and hard. “Winny, that’s great! You don't know how happy and relieved I am to hear you say that. Honestly, I can’t even tell you. I’m in shock right now.”
“Our relationship has opened my eyes to a lot of things,” she said. “The biggest thing being that I need to take control over my own life, because you’re right. I’ve lived my whole life being told what’s best for me, and the only person who ever encouraged me otherwise was my dad. Until I met you. I’m nearly twenty three. It’s time I made my own decision about my future.”
I hugged her tightly, holding her body close against mine. “I’m so proud of you,” I told her.
Maybe I hadn't needed to ask Frankie for his help after all. But then I remembered what he had said—Winny needed our help, even if she didn’t know it. Telling Linda about her plans to abandon it all would probably be the most difficult thing Winny will ever need to do.
It had been a couple days since I had last been back to my apartment, so I decided to go home for the night. For the very first time, Winny came with me. We had avoided coming to my place to minimize any chance of being seen by the press or paparazzi, but tonight we both shared the feeling like maybe it didn't even matter so much anymore. If Winny would be retiring from the pop scene, then maybe it meant our relationship would no longer need to be secret. At least that’s what I thought; neither of us had actually voiced that idea out loud.
“Don’t expect much,” I told her, parking my car in the lot. “My place could probably fit inside your kitchen. Also it’s been a while since I’ve cleaned up.”
“I can't wait to do it all over your apartment,” she said as we walked through the complex towards my unit. The chatter of televisions and muffled thumping of ranchera music drifted from behind the closed doors of the apartments on the way to mine, a clear reminder that we were no longer in the fancy, well soundproofed building that Winny lived in. But she didn’t seem to mind, or even notice. “I think that we’ve done it across every single square inch of my place. It’ll be fun to mix things up for once.”
“Shh,” I laughed, poking her in the ribs. “I have very conservative neighbors.”
“Well, I hope those walls are padded, because they’ll be getting a performance tonight.”
I was about to tickle her when I stopped dead, my attention caught by my apartment door up ahead.
“Lily?”
“What the…fuck?” I whispered, my body tensing up.
“What is it?” Winny lowered her voice to match mine, thick with concern. “What’s the matter?”
I pointed up ahead. “My door is open.”
It wasn’t wide open, but I could see that it was ajar, with a slit of black leading into the dark interior of the apartment. My pulse started to race, and I ran through my mind if I had maybe forgotten to close the door all the way, or lock it. Not possible. I never would’ve forgotten something like that.
The two of us approached very slowly, walking close to the wall. When we reached the door, I looked at the handle and saw that it wasn’t broken. I gave Winny a silent glance and she looked back at me with a worried expression. “I’ll call the police,” she whispered.
“No, wait,” I said. “If they come while you’re here, people are going to see you.”
“Fuck it, Lily. I think we should call the police.””
I held up my hand. “Just wait, okay?” Then I reached out and gave the door a push, and it opened slowly. I peeked into the dark apartment and could see my computer chair turned over in warped square of light coming in from the window. “Shit,” I whispered. The apartment was definitely empty—it wasn't big enough to hide anyone. I stepped inside and flicked on the light. My heart sank. “Fuck,” I said in stunned disbelief. My place was trashed. My computer desk was all pulled apart, the drawers pulled out, the computer itself missing, the monitor gone except for the cables. They even took the keyboard and mouse.
“Jesus,” Winny muttered. “Lily, I’m so sorry. God, I’m so fucking angry.”
They took everything. Computer…TV…
It was then that I realized that something way more valuable than any of those things had been in my room—something way more sensitive. I dove to the floor and flipped up the comforter on my bed to look underneath where I stored my camera. Oh please, please…
My vision whirled and contracted like I was going crosseyed. I felt lightheaded. “My camera’s gone,” I said flatly.
“Fuck,” Winny spat. “I’m calling the fucking cops right now. You at least have cloud backups of your photos everything, right?
“Winny,” I said, unable to keep the panic from seeping int
o my voice. “My camera is gone. The bag, the memory card. They have our photos.”
It took her just a second to understand what I was talking about. The memory card with all the photos of our private sessions were in my bag. And now they were gone.
Eleven
We sat around the dining table at Winny’s apartment, exhausted and shocked. I had called the police soon after I had confirmed what was missing, and though Winny was insistent that she stay with me, I forced her to wait in my car until the police left and there were would be no more curious eyes peeking out of apartment doors and windows. Once the officers filled out their report, and I locked my apartment up (though there wasn’t much left worth protecting) and the two of us returned to her place, silent as we both went brewed over the obvious possible ramifications of what had happened.
“Well,” Winny said with a tired laugh. “I guess the singing career would’ve been over one way or another. Once those pictures leak out, I won't really have a choice.” She laughed again, more of a sharp exhale of air from her nose, and shook her head and rubbed her eyes, her golden hair tumbling down over her shoulders. “Oh God, the aftermath. Neither of us Winny be able to go outside for weeks. And Frankie too…”
My chest hurt. I couldn't even remember the last time I’d felt so bad about anything in my life. “It’s my fault, Winny. I should’ve deleted the photos from the card…or shouldn’t have even taken them in the first place. I should’ve known better than that.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said, shaking her head. “They were our private photos. We shouldn't have to worry about our own private photos. Maybe…they won't even check the card. Maybe they’ll just format it right away.”
“I feel like most people are going to be curious,” I said doubtfully. “They’ll want to see what kind of person they stole from.”
We both sighed. “Then it’s only a matter of time before those photos go all over the Internet,” she said. “They’ll probably get sold to TMZ for a fortune.”
“At least they look really good,” I offered. “Hey, maybe I’ll get job offers from a lesbian porn magazine because of it.” We laughed, and then sighed again.
“I’m terrified to look at my phone,” Winny said. “I guess once it starts blowing up with messages we’ll know the photos are out.”
At that moment, my phone chimed and buzzed on the table and made us both nearly fall out of our chairs. I picked it up and looked at the screen—it was a text from Frankie.
Spoke to Linda. Was quite defensive about it, but I think she can still be reached. I’ll try again.
I didn’t know to take that as good news or bad news. I supposed it was good, since my expectations were pretty low at that moment. With what had just happened, it would be better for my mental health to just think of it as good news. Winny waited for me to fill her in. She didn’t know that I had enlisted Frankie’s help to try and get through to her mother, and I felt a little apprehensive about telling her, but given how things had changed it would all be out there anyway.
“That was Frankie,” I said.
“Frankie? What did he have to say?”
I drew a deep breath. “A few weeks ago, I went to Frankie to ask if he could talk to your mom in my place about your contact,” I said.
“Wow,” she said. She looked surprised, but not angry or upset. “How did she take that?”
“Not too positively, I guess. But it sounds like Frankie thinks he can still reach her. But I guess it doesn't matter so much anymore, does it?”
“I guess not. It would’ve been nice to have my mom’s support on my decision, but it's probably too much to ask of her.” She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Thank you for trying.”
I nodded. “I guess we should tell Frankie what’s going on sooner than later.”
Winny rubbed her eyes again, and tied up her hair into a ponytail. “I’ll call him right now and have him come over.”
“Right now? It’s—” I looked at my cell phone. “It’s two.”
“Better now than waking up in the morning and seeing it all over the Internet.” She took out her cell phone and tapped at the screen, and then brought it to her ear. “Hey, Frankie. I don’t know how else to put this, but we have a bit of an emergency situation…”
He arrived thirty minutes later in his pajamas and wearing a pair of glasses I’d never seen on him before. I was expecting him to be upset and furious for having been dragged into this whole thing, but he only looked tired and concerned, and gave the both us long hugs when he walked in the door. “Are you two okay?” he asked. “I’m sorry to hear about the apartment, Lily.”
I nodded and tried to smile. “Thanks, Frankie. I’m so sorry about all this.”
“You have no need to be sorry. You didn’t do a thing, Lily. You had no idea some fucker would break into your place. When I agreed to help Winny out, I did it knowing full well that eventually it could all come out. I could give two shits about what ‘the public’ thinks about what I do with my personal life.” He made quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “It’s ridiculous that being queer is even any kind of scandal anymore.”
Winny nodded in agreement. “Still, I guess we should all get ready to be in the tabloids for a while. The press and the public can be brutal. The fake relationship aside, I can’t imagine my fan base responding well to this whole thing.”
“You’re telling me the fangirls and fanboys don't want leaked nudes of you?” Frankie laughed.
“You know my mom has worked hard to maintain a wholesome image for my brand. They call me Miley without the bad decisions. There’s going to be a lot of disappointment for sure. It’ll probably take a while for me to recover from it all, but I suppose it’s okay. I’m not going to renew my contract anyway.”
“You’re not?” Frankie said, shocked. He looked at me, his eyes wide.
“She just told me today,” I said.
“Chances are whoever got the photos will recognize just who it is that’s standing there showing off her tits, and sell the things online for a boatload of cash. They’ll be published, passed around, saved on the Internet…and people will definitely be upset about the relationship thing. Whether it bothers your or not, Frankie, this could really put a streak on your career. Producers can be weird about scandals. You know that.”
Frankie’s disbelief that this could even be a scandal today had gotten me thinking. There was no way to get the photos back or prevent them from being seen, but maybe there was a way that we could prevent this whole thing from blowing out of proportion. It would take quick action and a good deal of work, but the more I thought about it, the more I believed that it was possible.
“I’m sure my mother will disown me, though,” Winny said with a sad smile. “To see me involved in a scandal…to see my name plastered all over the e-tabloids, and all people she’s going to have to answer to. I don’t think she’d be able to forgive me.”
“I think…I think there may be a way we can fix this.”
“What do you mean?” Winny asked. “How?”
“Well, not entirely. The photos were stolen and are probably going to make it out there eventually. We could either risk waiting to see if it Winny happen, or we could act first. People are supportive for LGBT rights, and more people are becoming aware, right? There are people who need inspiration to come out of the closet. Shit, I was in denial about it for almost my entire life. What if we could be that inspiration?”
Frankie’s mouth curled into a smile. “I think I know where you’re going with this. Go on.”
So I laid out my plan for them, and by the end of it Winny was on her feet, pacing back and forth, nodding. Frankie grinned and clapped his hands together. “I don’t see a reason why wouldn’t shouldn’t do it.”
“We’ll need to start now,” Winny said. “If we’re going to do this, we can’t risk wasting any time. Are you guys ready to pull an all-nighter?”
“I already got three hours of sleep,”
Frankie said. “I’m good.”
I was wide awake from the rushing adrenaline. “I’ll call Alex. If he doesn’t wake up I’ll drive over to his place and bang on his door.”
But he did wake up, and when he heard the full thing from me, starting from what had happened to what we planned to do, he wasted no time coming over. He arrived with his laptop bag, a pair of light stands under one arm and his camera bag gripped in the other hand, and the two of us set up the equipment while Frankie went to his car and got an emergency outfit he kept in there for last minute events. Winny sat at her computer, writing down what she was going to say.
By the time we finished with everything, it was pushing six in the morning. I would occasionally check my cell phone with the fear that I’d see it was too late, and that our photos were already smeared across the Internet tabloids, but they weren’t.
