“Everything went—even the computer. I know that’s what you’re worried about. But I helped, so I am certain that the computer is gone. My parents didn’t rush into this. If the photos were stored on it, you’re likely safe now—that thing is toast. But if he still has his phone, for whatever reason, they could be on there.”
“That’s what concerns me.”
“I’m not so sure that you should be. Why keep his phone after all these years? He’s a drug addict. Surely, he would have sold it by now.”
“The problem is that we can’t be sure. And I’m not in a position to take that kind of risk. If he has them, he could ruin me with them.”
“If it would help, I could email you a photo of him. It’s old, but it’s something. He’s not well. He’s unpredictable. I hate to say that about my own brother, but it’s true—he’s trouble. You could give the photo to the police. They could find him.”
“When was the photo taken?”
“When he was nineteen or so.”
“It wouldn’t do any good. Kevin looks nothing like he used to, Katie. I barely recognized him. He’s a different man. He’s been living on the streets for too long. Imagine what he looks like now. He’s another person.”
She went silent for a moment, and through the silence, I could feel her heartbreak, anger, and turmoil. It took a moment, but she collected herself.
“If you can give the police a detailed description of what he looks like now, they have the technology to use that photo to morph it into how Kevin looks today. Anybody who watches ‘CSI’ knows that.”
She had an excellent point—I’d seen that technology in movies and on TV shows myself. Of course the police could do that. I also had a feeling that Tank could as well, and that he’d want a photo for himself for that very reason. I gave her my email address and asked her to send the photo to me as soon as possible.
“You need to be very careful,” she said to me before we got off the phone.
“He’s been following me, you know? He said that he knows where I live.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”
“After tonight? Let’s just say that my head isn’t on straight.”
“You’re at risk. You told me you’re a writer. You said there is a billboard of you in Times Square. I assume that you have money?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
“He’s after you for that. You must do something.”
“The photo will help.”
“I’ll send it to you by morning. Meanwhile, take care of yourself. And, please, keep in touch. I’ll be worried sick if I don’t hear from you, OK? So, please, promise me that you’ll call me when this is over.”
“I promise,” I said.
CHAPTER THREE
When I got off the phone with Katie, it was just past eleven o’clock, and as much as I wanted to talk to Tank right then, I knew that I couldn’t. Jennifer, Alex, and he were still in the air. I’d need to wait at least another three hours or so for them to land in Los Angeles before I could call him, which—frankly—sucked.
Unless I use Skype, I thought. They have Internet on the plane. I could use Skype….
But I chose not to. Everything that I had to say to Tank was between us—at least for now. I didn’t want to distract Alex and Jennifer before they landed in Singapore—they were there to do business, hopefully to seal a deal, and not to worry about me. So, until the time was right, I had to keep them out of this. As for Tank? Tank was someone to whom I’d always tell the truth. I just needed him to arrive in Los Angeles so we could talk alone without anyone else listening to our conversation.
I went into the kitchen and made myself a martini. I felt worn out, but more than anything, after all that had taken place tonight—all the unexpected twists and ugly turns—I was worried to my core. I was frightened by Kevin’s threats, I was angry because there was nothing I could do about them or about him, and I felt betrayed by someone I once loved. I was rattled by all of it.
I thought of calling Blackwell, but I didn’t know what time she went to bed, so I decided not to disturb her. I shook the vodka with the ice and poured the martini into a chilled glass. At that moment, I became aware of just how alone I was. Right then, there was nobody close to me with whom I could talk, and that felt foreign to me.
I wasn’t sure that I’d ever felt so alone. At the very least, Jennifer always had been there for me. Right now, I needed her—or better yet, my boyfriend—but both were gone. Part of me wanted to cry because of how intense the night had been, but I refused to give in to that emotion. Crying solved nothing. What I needed to do was sit down, sip my martini, and think. At this point, I was so worked up, I already knew that tonight would be a night without sleep.
So I moved into the living room, kicked off my heels, and sat on one of the sofas. Then, with my martini poised near my lips, I considered the ridiculous night that was behind me.
I thought about my argument with Marco Boss, and the sheer look of rage on his face when he had knocked my clutch out of my hands. Why had he done that? Why had he gone ballistic for no good reason? Was it the booze? God knows he’d had enough of it. But then there was his ego, which Julian West and Boss’ publishing colleague, Helen Young, had challenged. Worse, I’d walked out on him because I was damned if he was going to treat me poorly. And later, when I felt threatened by him, I’d called the police on him. I had to wonder what would come of that. Blackwell had said that she wouldn’t tolerate abuse of any sort—nor would Alex. She told me that Alex was giving Boss one more chance to get in line with me. If he didn’t? He’d be fired.
If I knew anything about Alex, it was that he didn’t screw around. Neither did Blackwell. Tomorrow, when I told Blackwell what had happened tonight, I knew that Boss would lose his job. The physical act of him swatting my clutch out of my hand crossed so many lines, I no longer trusted him or wanted him near me.
The man obviously had a problem.
And when he’s gone, then what? I thought. A new editor? Naturally. But who would that be? And what if they hated my book? What then? Another complete rewrite, only with their own directives and perspectives? I’d have to trash what I’d already implemented for Marco and start from the beginning.
And then a thought occurred to me.
Everything hinges on Julian West and what he says to Alex, if he does indeed make that call to him. If West is still interested in my book—if he wants to make a movie out it—I might just win this. My book isn’t perfect—far from it. God knows, it needs some help. I just want to keep the core of it as close to how I’d envisioned it if that’s even possible.
I sipped my drink and put it down on the table in front of me. My thoughts turned to Kevin. I thought of how different he looked and how vicious he’d been. Then, I recalled the car chase that had ensued because I’d refused to give him money so he could buy drugs. The idea that he might have nude photos of me was crippling. And if he did have them? What then? How badly would they affect my career? Obviously, it would kick it to the curb. But that wasn’t what really concerned me. What bothered me was how those photos would affect my relationship with Tank. How would he view me when I told him about them?
Tank was nothing if not conservative. The idea of how he might react made me sick to my stomach.
But I’d be honest with him about it. I’d hide nothing from him. Even though those photos of me were clearly taken while I was asleep, I couldn’t help but be concerned about how Tank would react when he found out they existed.
Will he judge me for it? I wondered. I was asleep when they were taken. Obviously, the photos were taken without my consent. That’s the truth.
But what if he doesn’t believe me?
I stopped myself short. What was I doing? I closed my eyes and took a breath, knowing in my heart that I was getting way ahead of myself. Tank wasn’t going to judge me or mistrust me. That wasn’t who he was. He only was going to support me. I could sit in this living room and come up with a hive of what-ifs, bu
t what good would that do? I needed to get a grip.
I also needed to work on my book. I didn’t know for sure what would come of Marco Boss after tonight, but I still was under contract, and I had a limited amount of time to produce the book he wanted. Since I was wide awake anyway, I took my martini into the bedroom, started my Mac, and changed into shorts and a T-shirt. Then I looked at his edits, and got to work.
CHAPTER FOUR
It was just past midnight when Tank called. When I saw his name flash on my iPhone, it was with a sense of relief and trepidation.
“You arrived safely?” I asked when I answered the phone.
“We’re refueling now. Should be leaving in another hour or so.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“How are Jennifer and Alex?”
“Jennifer is doing research. Alex is on his computer preparing for tomorrow.”
“Sounds about right.”
“How was your night tonight? Am I going to be seeing your book on the big screen soon?”
If I had only one hour with him, I wasn’t about to pull any punches.
“Let’s just say that tonight was a disaster,” I said.
His voice deepened a notch. “On what level?”
“On all levels.”
“What happened?”
I told him everything, starting with how Boss had grasped my hand when we exited the limousine, and that it was captured by dozens of photographers.
“Expect to see those soon in a newspaper or a blog near you.”
“He did that on purpose,” Tank said.
“Of course he did. The moment I realized what he’d done, I shook him off, and went inside. But not before the damage already had been done.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said.
“Actually, that’s the least of my worries.”
He hesitated before saying, “Go on.”
I told him about our meeting with Julian West, how excited he’d been about my book, and how, because he was prepared to pay a seven-figure option for it, I’d decided that I needed to tell him the truth about how the book was in the process of getting a complete rewrite.
“Seven figures?” Tank said.
“That’s right. Boss stood there saying nothing about the proposed changes. He just stood silent, more than willing to deceive West to get the deal. But I don’t deal in deceit. I was damned if I’d allow Julian to purchase a book of mine that was being turned into something radically different from the one he’d already read.”
“Good for you. But let me guess—that pissed off Boss.”
“Not just me. West let him have it, too. This was after Boss had had three martinis within forty-five minutes of our being there. He downed the last one just before we went over to speak with Julian. That’s, like, nine shots of vodka in less than an hour. I understand that Boss is a mountain of a man, but few can consume that much alcohol and not feel some of it.”
“He’s pretty much as big as I am. I couldn’t take that many drinks in such a short period of time without feeling something. Was he drunk?”
“Not at that point.”
“Then he was at some point? Explain.”
“Julian told him that he wasn’t interested in buying the rights to my book if substantial changes were being made to it—you know, like bitch slapping the storyline to the ground. Then, after Julian walked away, Boss laced into me. He said that I’d used the situation to try to keep my book as it was. I told him that I was under contract to give him the book that he wanted and that I was in the process of doing just that. Then I told him that I didn’t lie to anyone, including lies of omission, which he apparently has no issues with. So, I gave it right back to him. We exchanged a few words, and then he went into the gutter when he said that I needed to be a better writer. At that point, I was finished with him. I was about to leave when Helen Young, a senior editor at Hatchet House, stopped me. She told me that she had been about to bid on my book before Wenn got hold of it. I told her that Marco had plans to change all of it, and because she enjoyed the book so much, she publicly took him to task for it, which only fueled his rage.”
Tank was quiet for a moment. “What do you mean by ‘fueled’ it? Did he do something to you?”
“He followed me outside, but I ignored him because I was through with him and his lies. I called for a cab even though Marco demanded that I get in the limo that was waiting for us at the curbside. I kept my back to him, which apparently incensed him enough to slap my clutch out of my hand.”
“He did what?”
“Just so we’re clear, he didn’t hit me. OK? He struck my clutch and it fell into the street. Still, I could see the anger on his face, and I had no idea what he’d do to me next. That’s when I told him to get the hell away from me. That’s when I told him that he was drunk, which he denied even though he was wavering on the sidewalk. I called the police on his ass when he refused to leave because, at that moment, I felt threatened by him.”
“He’ll pay for what he did to you.”
By the tone of Tank’s voice, I had no question that somehow, Marco Boss would pay for it—likely with his job. Or maybe by a visit from Tank himself. And so be it. Boss had crossed several lines tonight. Tank worked for Wenn. He answered to Alex. I could only imagine what would be said between Tank and Alex when we got off the phone.
“I’ll be telling Alex all of this,” Tank said.
“That’s fine. Boss deserves it. No one has the right to do what he did to me tonight. I have a feeling that Alex will be receiving a call from Julian West as well.”
“What I need to know is if you’re all right?”
And there was the loaded question of the night, because what Tank didn’t know is what came later, when I ran into Kevin in Times Square.
“Let’s just say that the evening only got worse,” I said. “And in ways that I never expected.”
“What does that mean?”
I told him about going to look at my billboard in Times Square, and what had happened when I arrived to take photos of it.
It was a moment before Tank spoke. “You’ve told me that you had two boyfriends before me. Which one is Kevin?”
“My first. I was seventeen when we started dating, and eighteen when I broke it off with him.”
“And he just happened to be there tonight?”
“Yes. I was so shaken by the exchange with Boss that I didn’t want to go home right away. So, I asked the driver to take me to the Square. I wanted to see my billboard. I wanted to see something good. I’d just started taking photos of it when Kevin called out my name.”
“That can’t be a coincidence.”
“Actually, as ridiculous as it sounds, I think it was. It was still early in the evening when I saw him. Apparently, he showed the ad from the Times to a friend of his and told him that we’d once been an item. When the man recognized the ad as the same as the billboard in Times Square, he told Kevin about it and told him to check it out. The ad in the Times and the billboard just went live today. If a week or a month had passed, and suddenly I ran into Kevin, then there’s no way that would have been a coincidence. But that’s not the case. Again, the ads went live today. I think this was a coincidence.”
“Maybe,” he said. “What else happened?”
“It’s more like what didn’t happen. Apparently Kevin is homeless, a drug addict, and an alcoholic. He looked more like forty than twenty-five.”
“How did you find out that he’s homeless?”
“He told me.”
“Did you feel threatened?”
“Not at at that point—I was too surprised that he was standing in front of me, asking me why we couldn’t be in love again. When I told him that wasn’t going to happen, he said that he knew that I was in a relationship and that relationships end every day. When I asked him how he knew I was seeing someone, he said that he’d seen me with you. He said that he got around. Then he admitted to following me, and,
frankly, that terrified me. We fought for a few minutes on the median, and then I tried to hail a cab to get away from him. That’s when he threatened me.”
“With what?”
I was so embarrassed, I didn’t want to tell him. But I had to. Tank deserved the truth, regardless of how humiliating it was. “When we were seeing each other, Kevin took several photos of me while I was sleeping. They were of me in the nude. He had no right and no consent to do that. He took advantage of me while I was sleeping. Now he says that he still has those photos, and that if I don’t give him a million dollars for them, he’s going to go public with them on the day that my book is released.”
His voice was gentle when he spoke. “I don’t know what to say, Lisa.”
I closed my eyes. What did that mean? Just say something.
“Other than that I’m sorry,” he said. “Nobody should have done that to you. I’m sorry that that happened to you.”
“Thank you,” I said. “You don’t know what that means to me. I didn’t want to tell you, but I had to. There are no secrets between us. There never will be. But telling you was humiliating. I don’t want you to feel differently about me.”
“Why would I? Because some freak violated you? None of what happened to you was your fault. You trusted him. He fucked you over. Now, he’s trying to do it again. If I’m anything, I’m angry.”
“I love you so much,” I said.
“You already know how I feel about you. Your willingness to be honest about this just makes me love you more.”
And I knew why—Tank’s last relationship had ended because his former girlfriend had cheated on him. It had crushed him and he still had trust issues because of it. It took us months to get over that hump, months to finally become a couple, but we were beyond that now, and I planned on doing my part to keep us there. I loved him completely.
“We need to focus,” he said. “Do you know whether the photos still exist?”
“Here’s what I know—when he first took them, I remember that he showed them to me the next morning. I fought him for his iPhone, but he told me to chill out. He said he was going to delete them. I was in love with him at that point—or at least I thought I was—so I thought that what he’d done was just a rotten joke and that he’d delete them. But looking back at the situation, that was just the reaction of a stupid seventeen-year-old girl willing to trust someone she never thought would hurt her or betray her. The question now is whether he really does still have those photos. Tonight, I called his sister, Katie, and told her everything. There are no photos of me at Kevin’s family’s home—they’ve since disowned him and threw out all of his belongings. Nothing is left, including his computer. The question is whether he still has that iPhone. Katie thinks he probably sold it to buy drugs. I think that’s a likely scenario, but I’m also here to tell you that I can’t be sure.”
Unleash Me, Vol. 2 (Unleash Me, Annihilate Me Series) Page 2
