by S. L. Naeole
I turned away from him and began walking. How could he? How could he claim that what I saw was a misunderstanding? How could he look at me with such hurt, as if I’d been the one to betray him? Suddenly I stopped walking.
Spinning on my heel I looked at him, my mouth twisting with doubt and frustration. He looked…defeated. He hadn’t taken a single step to follow me, hadn’t opened his mouth, hadn’t even blinked. He was simply standing there, his eyes cast down, his hands balled into fists at his side.
“Did you have fun? Was the game worth it? Did you enjoy leading me on?” I demanded to know, not caring that we had oglers. “Did you laugh with Franklyn about the poor, stupid whore that fell for your lines? Did you tell him about how I finally gave it up to you? Did you compare notes? Compare how I screamed out your names? How I begged? How I cried?”
My voice wavered, my eyes leaking tears that had no end. They were just a constant stream of wetness pouring down my cheeks, warning me to leave, warning me to walk away. But I wasn’t running anymore. I knew the minute I had turned around to face him that my days of running were over.
I took a step forward. “Answer me, Michael. Was it worth it? Was seeing me like this worth it?”
His head picked up and something close to anger darkened his expression. “What do you want me to say to you, Victoria? You’re accusing me of things that I didn’t do. You’re associating me with someone who hurt you, and I would never hurt you. You would know that…if you loved me.”
“If I loved you?” I repeated bitterly, shock and hurt pulsing in my veins just as surely as if they were blood. “If? How can you say that to me? To me?”
“The same way you could accuse me of lying to you, of playing some sick game,” he threw back at me with a pained shout. “I watched that video of you. Yes. I admit it. But that’s because I received it tonight in an email. I didn’t know what it was when I clicked on it and as soon as I did it was already too late because you’d just walked in.”
He stepped closer to me, his lips curling into a vicious snarl that pulled over gritted teeth. “But if you think for one second that I felt anything but pure disgust and rage at seeing you imprisoned like that, crying out for help and no one helping you, you’re wrong. That video didn’t excite me, Victoria. That video didn’t turn me on. It didn’t do anything except make me want to murder the asshole who filmed it.”
“That asshole,” I reminded him haughtily, “is the guy you gave a press conference with this morning. That asshole is the guy you called a fucking genius this morning. That asshole is the guy you patted on the back this morning in front of millions of television viewers across the country. That asshole is the guy who created the software that allows him to spy on people. That asshole found me and has been texting me for weeks! And the only way he could have done that is through you.”
He inhaled sharply through his teeth, his eyes narrowing in disgust. “I didn’t even tell him about you. No one here besides Lyle knows about you. I wanted to protect you. Fuck, Victoria. What kind of guy do you think I am?”
Visible, tangible shock registered on his face then. I felt it just as much as I saw it and it…hurt. “After everything I’ve shared with you, after every moment we shared together, the fact that you could believe I’d do anything to hurt you…”
He walked past me, stopping just a few feet away, his back to me, his voice filled with so much disappointment it was impossible to not feel its suffocating grip clamping down on my heart. “And just so you know, I fired Fred—Franklyn—whatever the fuck his name is, and I’m releasing a statement tomorrow. He might be a security genius, but he’s fucking lousy at hiding his tracks. I’ve already traced the email back to him as well as his messages to you. He violated his probation by doing that and is going back to jail because of it.”
I gasped and my hand flew to my mouth, shock taking hold of my ability to speak.
He stared forward, refusing to even turn my way. “I told you I’d never lie to you. I told you never doubt me. All you had to do—all you fucking had to do was trust me, Ria, and this would’ve all been taken care of. Instead…” His voice cracked, his shoulders falling forward. Defeated.
He shook his head, sighed, and then he was gone. I watched him climb into the back of a waiting vehicle and then watched the vehicle drive away. A part of me wanted to run after it, to beg for his forgiveness. The other part—the stubborn part—kept my feet glued to the wood. I stared at the road as cars passed and people walked by. He’d called me Ria. He never called me Ria. Ever.
Victoria.
Sweetheart.
Baby.
Love.
From the beginning, those had been his names for me. Now I was just Ria. No one special, no one unique. No one important. Now I was just like everyone else.
My face was hot with tears, my body stiff with anger, rejection, shame.
The one time I’d chosen to stick around, to fight, he’d been the one to run. All this time he’d stayed by my side, refusing to give up despite my fears, despite my mistrust, despite everything. And now he was gone because I was no longer worth sticking around for.
Another vehicle pulled up, slowing to a stop. Holly emerged and looked around frantically until she saw me. With a cry of alarm, she ran toward me, her arms held out. A loud hacking sound filled the air the closer she got to me and as her arms wrapped around me and we sank to the wooden planks beneath our feet, I realized that the hacking sounds were coming from me.
“I fucked up,” I sobbed into Holly’s jacket.
“Shh,” she soothed. “You didn’t fuck up, Ria.”
I shook my head, wiping snot all over my face. “I did. I fucked up.”
Someone whistled behind us but we didn’t move out of the way. Lyle crouched down beside us and Holly looked up at him. She pushed my hair away from my face so that I could see him. “Miss Oh. I’m sorry about all of this. I’m sorry how all of this went down. You didn’t deserve any of this. But I want you to know, though, that Mal wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you. Not intentionally, anyway. He’d sooner destroy the world than hurt you. And Freddy? The guy from this morning? I think you should know that he’s not Mal’s friend. Mal didn’t even meet him formally until a week ago. Their relationship is…was purely professional in every way. Mal wouldn’t have done anything to jeopardize what the two of you have.”
“Bullshit. He was watching a video that asshole took of her,” Holly said, her tone low and heavy with warning. “It’s not a good video, Lyle.”
Lyle nodded, his expression grim and heavy with remorse. “I gathered that already from the thirty-six times Mal said ‘fuck’ in a single sentence. The video made him sick. He’s already contacted his personal attorney about it and the corporation’s firm also has heard from him regarding firing that piece of shit. It’ll all come out tomorrow. You’ll see.”
“I won’t be here tomorrow,” I mumbled between sniffles, hearing the confirmation of Mal’s words in Lyle’s voice and hating what I’d done, hating myself. “I can’t be here anymore. I fucked everything up. It’s over. He left. It’s over.”
Holly brushed her hands over my hair, her body rocking me gently as she did her best to soothe me. “Oh, honey. Everyone’s upset right now and not thinking straight. A lot of shit happened today, and in two time zones, no less! You just need some time cooling off and so does Michael.
“We’re gonna stay at my parents’ house tonight. They’d love to see you and you need some sleep; I know you didn’t sleep on the flight. We’ll look at everything again in the morning. Lyle’s gonna take us there. Okay?”
My head bobbed once, barely registering what she’d said, and then I felt Holly move away from me before she slid her arms beneath mine to lift me up. I struggled, my heart too hurt to tell my body to stand. Two strong arms secured themselves around me and I turned to see Lyle standing behind me. I looked down, seeing his hands pressed against my belly.
I didn’t panic.
I didn�
�t scream.
Instead, with his help, I stood.
And together the three of us walked to the awaiting car.
Things didn’t look any better the next morning. In fact, they were worse as Holly, her parents, and…Del waited for me at the kitchen table. Their expressions were grim, their faces pale. I didn’t even ask what was wrong. I simply sat beside Holly as Del began to speak.
“I got a call yesterday from Vonne. She told me what happened and I caught the first flight out that I could. When I landed, I had several messages from Vonne. There’s no easy way to say this, kid. Franklyn’s lashed out against you and Michael and I’m afraid that the videos and photos he took of you are now all over the internet.”
My blood turned to ice in my veins as I stared at the table. Holly’s mother took my hand in hers and squeezed gently while Holly wrapped her arm around my shoulders.
“Michael’s press conference scheduled for today has been canceled on the recommendation of his attorneys. Someone—most likely Franklyn or his aunt—tipped off the press about the videos and they’re now all over the news and have been tied to Michael and Dynalock. Lyle’s coming to pick us up in an hour to take us to the airport,” Holly said to me, her voice shaky.
“They know your name,” Del revealed. “They know where you work. They know about your relationship with Michael.”
Holly coughed. “There’s more.”
“What more could there be?” I breathed thinly, defeat suffocating me and sapping at what little strength I had left.
“There are pictures and...video from Michael’s building. Of you two in the elevator.”
My eyes closed with a cringe.
“Let me see.” My voice was barely a whisper.
“Ria, I don’t think—”
“Let me fucking see!” This time I was shouting.
Holly and Del looked at each other and then, after a nod from Holly, Del pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and then handed it to me. I clicked on his internet browser app and typed my name into the search bar. Within seconds, dozens of links appeared. So did pictures.
Lots of pictures.
Close-ups of my face, my mouth open in what I knew was terror, but what was being billed as gasps of ecstasy. Wide shots of me with my eyes closed, my face masked by semen. My naked body, bruised and dirty. Images that were as familiar to me as the artwork I’d spent months working on over the last eight years. But there were also other pictures. Pictures that I’d never seen because they were never meant to exist.
Pictures of a head at my bare breast. Pictures of a thick, muscular hand between my legs. Pictures of my head thrown back in ecstasy.
Shaking my head at the violation those photos coated me with, I moved my eyes downward toward the headlines, headlines that were so familiar appearing with today’s date attached to them:
“Huntington Whore Resurrected!”
“The Whore of Huntington Returns!”
“California’s Most Eligible Bachelor Linked to Infamous Huntington Harlot!”
My chest felt compressed, as if someone had stuck my lungs in a vise. I continued to scroll until the first video link appeared, followed by another. Then another. Newspapers that I’d recognized from those first few tabloid-like articles were proudly displaying what had been my nightmare right alongside what I’d believed was my salvation. Notable news organizations shared links. Even politicians had weighed in.
I quickly searched Mal’s name, not surprised by how many more links showed up. All of the recent ones had him being warned of my apparent nature for seducing innocent young men and then ruining their reputation, or labeling him my next victim and how heartbroken he was by my betrayal, conveniently printed above a photo of us at the pier, his hurt expression clear despite the graininess of the image. The photo of the two of us at the charity auction popped up, too, right alongside the images of me from when I was seventeen, though I noticed that none of them showed the chains around my wrists and legs, or the one around my neck. And one photo had even been manipulated to show me smiling.
Disgusted, I placed the phone screen-side-down, and then pushed it away before standing and rushing to the small hallway bathroom near the kitchen. I crashed onto the floor in front of the toilet and began retching into it, my hands clutching the seat as if not doing so would cause me to fall in and drown.
Part of me wanted to.
Holly was beside me in a flash, her hands pulling back my hair, her voice soft and comforting in my ear with words that were meaningless, even made up. But she knew the drill. She’d been through this with me before. They all had. Holly’s parents, Lara, Kara, their parents. They’d seen me through the night terrors, insomnia, depression, and weight loss. They’d watched me wither away to almost nothing before I’d finally left California for what I thought was for good.
I turned my face to rest my cheek against the rim of the seat and saw Del squatting beside Holly. His face was pinched with sorrow. He reached over Holly and held his hand gently over my cheek, the limb hovering just above my skin before he snatched it back and frowned. Without thinking, I grabbed his hand and placed it on my face, sighing at the cool touch of his palm.
He inhaled, long and deeply, but said nothing. He stroked my face gently, like a father would, and allowed me the quiet I so desperately needed right then. We remained in the bathroom until Lyle showed up, and by then I knew that I would be okay.
I took a quick shower and gave Holly’s parents a quick hug goodbye. They wished me luck and then Holly, Del, and I were in the backseat of a large SUV.
“I’ve got the jet already chartered and waiting for you,” Lyle said from the driver’s seat. “Ralph is picking you up and taking you back to your apartment.”
My head jerked up at his news. “Ralph?”
Lyle’s eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror. “Mal said you knew him, that you’d met him and took a liking to him.”
“Well, yeah, but why is he getting involved?”
“Because right now there are only two people he trusts with his private business and Ralph’s one of them.”
And the other was Lyle, I acknowledged silently. That meant that he didn’t trust me. Not anymore.
My fractured heart shattered completely.
Nodding at Lyle’s words and biting the inside of my cheek to hold back my tears, I looked out the tinted window. I watched the world continue on as usual, unaware that the person they were gossiping about was riding right past them, her life in tatters, her heart nonexistent.
When we arrived at the airfield Lyle spoke quietly with Holly and then with Del, nodding at something Del told him. When he approached me, I placed the ring Mal gave me into his palm.
“I…I should have given this back last night but I didn’t think. I didn’t think about a lot of things and now there’s no point. Please, make sure he gets this. And…and tell him that I’m sorry.”
Lyle didn’t even look at what I’d given him. Instead, he reached out and patted my arm before pulling me into a hug that I found myself returning. “Take care of yourself, Miss Oh.”
He released me and I gave him a sad smile. “It’s Olsen,” I corrected. “But you can call me Ria.”
Nodding, he returned my smile. “Well, you have a safe flight, Miss Ria Oh.”
We returned to New York at a private airfield. Ralph greeted us as warmly as anyone could, given the circumstances, and then drove the three of us back to my apartment. Vonne drove Del home while Holly, Lara, and Kara did their best to distract me.
In truth, they didn’t need to. As soon as I saw my bed, I crawled into it and closed my eyes, hating the fact that the pillows and sheets still smelled like Mal even though it had been weeks since he’d even been in my room. I stayed in bed for the next two days, too mentally and emotionally exhausted to leave for any reason except to pee.
On the third day, I got on Holly’s computer and sent an email to Tobias, copying it to Del. In it I tendered my resignation, effective immediately. I
couldn’t work at MOAT anymore, even if Mal didn’t own the property. Besides the place being haunted with my memories of him and I being there, Vonne had already informed me that the press had swarmed the museum in hopes of catching sight of me, the woman that had somehow tainted the famed Pussy Collector’s reputation.
And I had. What I had feared would happen had come to pass. I knew that one day my past would taint Michael’s name and it had. His past was scrutinized. Articles about him paying for sex because of his association with me came out, and women who’d once been romantically linked to him were questioned about their relationships’ validity. He was hailed as a savior and lambasted as a sinner, and all because for a short period of time he had been mine.
On the fourth day, Del stormed into my room with an easel, my custom neutralizers and favorite varnish, and my paints. “Effective immediately,” he said to my shocked face, “your resignation is hereby rejected. And since MOAT currently has a massive insect problem, all work that you have been assigned will have to be done in your temporary studio right here.”
Del didn’t give me a chance to argue. He simply left.
The next day, he returned with a private painting and a standard contract for services to be rendered. I signed it and then rolled over on my bed and went back to sleep.
The next few weeks passed slowly, but quietly. I worked on paintings that either Del or Tobias trucked over, all private restorations that wouldn’t be shown in the gallery. I ate quiet, solitary meals in my room, not feeling up for company or conversation. I slept for sixteen hours a day sometimes and worked all night until I heard Vonne and the rest leave for work.
No one turned on the television. No one mentioned the videos or Mal, or what happened after we returned from California. I existed in a void of information, one of my own creation, because I simply couldn’t handle anything but the status quo. My life resumed a familiar pattern, one that I’d grown accustomed to years ago when I’d first arrived in New York and wanted to avoid people in general, and for a while, I was…okay. Not content, not anything really. Just okay.
