“Fucking scum of the earth,” Ben grumbles as he walks me to the curb. “Anyway, the answer to your question is no. There are no surprises waiting for you at the apartment. No more surprises until I get back.”
The cool morning wind sweeping through the breezeway gives me chills. “Call me when you land?”
“Of course,” he replies, squeezing my hand as he leans over to kiss my temple. “Here comes Tyrell,” he says, pointing at an SUV that appears to be identical to the one Ponti has been driving around. “He’ll drive you to the drugstore, then he’ll take you home or to the apartment. Text me when you get there. I have WIFI on the plane.”
The parking attendant standing behind the valet podium races over to open the passenger door for me. “Have a wonderful day, miss.”
Ben looks a bit peeved that he didn’t get to open the door for me. “I love you,” he says, waiting for me to climb inside, then planting a kiss on my cheek as he pats my belly. “Now go kill some potential babies.”
I shake my head. “Not funny.”
He laughs as he shuts the door and watches us drive away. Tyrell appears tense and not up for conversation as I give him the directions to the nearest CVS drugstore. Once I’m back in the SUV with my box of Plan B and a bottle of water, I decide to offer Tyrell a chance to open up.
“Where’s Holder?” I ask.
Tyrell glances at me and I’m taken by the color of his eyes. I hadn’t noticed they were hazel when we had lunch last week.
“He’s going to L.A. with Ponti and your man,” he replies. “Are we going to your apartment or back to Bodega Bay?”
“Did Ben leave you behind to be my chauffeur?”
The muscle in his jaw clenches before he replies. “Nah, I just didn’t feel like going. Not exactly in the mood to be around a bunch of hypocrites.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
He glances at me and shakes his head. “Sorry. I’m not talking about Ben or you. I’m just… Nothing. It’s not important.”
I swallow my apprehension and decide to let it go. “Yeah, you can take me to Bodega Bay. I don’t feel like seeing the apartment right now. I’ll see it later when I drive back to visit Frank.”
“It’s a badass loft. You should really take him up on it,” Tyrell says, suddenly appearing more relaxed. “He did it because he cares and he wants to keep you close. Not because he’s trying to control you.”
I draw in a deep breath and nod as I let it out slowly. “Thanks. That…means a lot, actually.”
The right side of his face pulls up in a handsome half smile as he nods in agreement. We chat about life, music, and Allie on the forty-minute drive to Bodega Bay. He wants to know if there’s anything he can surprise her with that will score him points. I tell him her shameful secret love for the song “Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen” by Neil Sedaka, because her grandfather sang it to her on her sixteenth birthday. Her grandfather passed away six years ago.
Tyrell reciprocates with a bit of shocking advice. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but… I think — and I know this is gonna sound crazy as shit — but I think you two should get engaged before Frank dies.”
I almost double over with laughter at this comment. But when Tyrell doesn’t join in, I realize he’s being serious. “You’re not joking, are you? You’re… You’re really suggesting that Ben and I get married?”
He shrugs. “Not married. Just engaged,” he clarifies. “And just until after Frank passes. Then, you can call it off, or whatever.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Look, I don’t know you or Frank that well. I started working with Ben after you two broke up. But Ben’s my best friend. He told me a lot of stories about you and his dad…stuff that makes me think Frank would die in peace if he knew you were always going to be there to keep Ben in line. And I gotta say… I haven’t seen Ben take a single sip of alcohol since y’all went to that wedding. That’s some fucking amazing shit right there.” He presses his lips together in a thin line as he appears to be thinking hard. “You know what? Just forget what I said. I’m just talking outta my ass.”
I nod as I slowly turn my attention back to the beautiful view of the Pacific Ocean on my right. We’re silent the rest of the way to my parents’ house. When Tyrell pulls into the driveway, I pause for a moment before I reach for the backpack and plastic CVS bag at my feet.
“Thanks for the ride. You…gave me some stuff to think about,” I say, reaching over to give him a one-armed hug. “Drive safe.”
As I head inside and straight to my office to transfer the pictures from the memory card in my camera to my computer, I pause to look around the office for a moment. There are no clotheslines with pictures hanging, the way I always imagined my photography studio would look like when I was younger. I don’t have a room I can use as a dark room here.
I guess the least I can do is take a look at the loft in the city. If there’s a room I can use for processing, I’d be an idiot not to consider staying there for the next few weeks. I can bone up my manual mode skills again, something that’s fallen by the wayside since I no longer have access to the dark rooms at Sonoma State.
I set down my backpack on my desk and head for the garage to get a couple empty boxes. Ben said the apartment is furnished, so I only need to take a few important things. Then, I’ll head over to the apartment and to visit Frank. Maybe without Ben around, Hunter might also agree to meet for lunch or dinner.
I stop as I place my hand on the doorknob leading into the garage. Tears come to my eyes as I realize Ben’s idea to get me an apartment solves so many of my problems. It shows a level of foresight and maturity I wouldn’t expect from the Ben who broke my heart. Maybe he’s telling the truth when he says he never stopped loving me.
23
Carry You
Now
In times of uncertainty, let your heart carry you in the right direction.
That was something my mother wrote in a letter to me, a letter my father kept hidden away, waiting for me to open it on my eighteenth birthday. Well, right now, my heart is racing a million miles a second as Ponti pulls the rented Chevy Tahoe into the small parking lot of the two-story brick office building in Sherman Oaks. I wish I knew what that meant.
“How do you know if someone has a crush on you?” Holder asks, drawing his vape pen from his jeans pocket like a magic wand.
Ponti keeps the car running after finding a parking space. “When they accidentally — or not so accidentally — like one of your super old pics on Facebook.”
Holder laughs out loud. “Fuck no. That’s not a crush. That’s straight up stalker-level obsession.”
“Are you still trying to get at Michelle?” I ask, sliding my phone out of my pocket. “You’d better not fuck her over because I can’t prevent Charley’s wrath.”
Holder shakes his head as he lowers the back window to blow out his smoke. “Damn. Someone is pussy-whipped.”
I shoot off a text to Tyrell to let him know we’re here. As planned, he should be sending Katie a text to let her know he’s arrived, which is obviously a lie. I don’t like having to deceive Katie into meeting with me. But she has refused to talk to me about that night for almost ten years now. We can’t keep putting this off.
My only regret is that I had to loop Tyrell in yesterday. He was afraid I was somehow setting Katie up. After everything she’s been through — especially the last six or seven months since the #metoo movement took root — I don’t blame him for trying to protect her. But I have no intention of hurting Katie. Unfortunately, to get Tyrell to agree to help me, I had to tell him what happened that night.
I know Tyrell will keep my and Katie’s secret. But that doesn’t assuage my guilt for sharing it with him. It isn’t only my secret to tell. I hope that if she finds out, she doesn’t feel I’ve violated her trust the way Wes and Jordan did.
When the text from Tyrell comes through letting me know that Katie confirmed she
’s in her office, I respond thanking him, but he doesn’t text back. He did his part and he’s passed me the baton. Now, it’s my turn.
“Wish me luck,” I say, pushing the passenger side door open.
“Good luck,” Ponti and Holder say in unison.
I slam the car door behind me and glance around, looking for paparazzi before I head inside. As I step through the door into the office building, I consult the directory on the wall to look for the name of Katie’s studio. I spot it right away: Lovestruck Photography, Suite 106.
Turning around, I see suite 102 behind me. To the right, I see the door for suite 104, which means the next one should be Katie. When I see the number 106 on the oak door, I take a deep breath and knock three times.
“Come in!” says a squeaky female voice I immediately recognize. Just the sound of it makes my stomach clench.
Slowly, I turn the brass lever and push the door open. As the door falls closed behind me, Katie turns away from her iMac screen with a smile on her slender face. The smile, which is meant for Tyrell, vanishes instantly the moment she sees me.
She shakes her head and her wavy blonde ponytail whips back and forth. “No. Get out, Ben. You can’t be here.”
“Katie, please listen to me,” I plead as she shoots out of her chair.
“No!” she shouts. “Does anyone know you’re here?”
“Katie, please. I just need ten minutes of your time. All you have to do is listen and I’ll talk. I promise I’ll leave after that. Just ten minutes. Please.”
Her chest is heaving with anger as she shakes her head. “You… You tricked me?”
I stare at her for a moment, pleading with her to understand. “Just ten minutes, then I’ll go.”
She lets out a heavy sigh as she stares at the floor for a good two minutes straight, in total silence. “Are you sure no one knows you’re here?”
“No one knows I’m here,” I reply, mentally dismissing my suspicions about the fat paparazzo who’s been following me and Charley around for weeks.
Finally, she looks up, her eyes still narrowed as she glares at me. “Make it quick. I have another client coming in half an hour,” she says, heading toward another oak door that leads into a back office, or more likely her studio. “Come on.”
I follow her through the door and I’m surprised to find the studio looks so professional, with heavy muslin backdrops, soft boxes on huge booms, mirrors and umbrellas. It’s way more professional than the dinky office Charley has set up at her parents’ house. Charley deserves something even better than this. Of course, if my suspicions are correct, the rent on this studio is paid for with the hush money Katie gets from Wes or Jordan — I haven’t figured out which one yet.
She takes a seat on a wooden stool near a camera tripod and pats the stool next to her for me to sit. “What do you want?” she says, cutting through the niceties.
I can’t help but chuckle. “I almost forgot how direct you can be.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to know about your life. And I really don’t want to watch you pretend to care about me. So, let’s just cut the bullshit and you tell me what it is you want.”
I nod as I look her in the eye. “Okay, but before I do that, I just want to say that I hate what this has done to you. I don’t think it’s fair. And this attitude, I know it stems from that. So, while I don’t blame you, I also don’t appreciate it. I’m here to help.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve heard that before.”
I let out a deep sigh. “Okay, here it is. I know your son is not mine. I wore a condom that night. But I know people have put me on a list of guys who you were dating at the time. I don’t care if you never clarify that. That was almost ten years ago. The people I care about have long since forgotten about that scandal. But… I need your help with something else. I need you to help me stop this from happening to someone I love.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “Stop what from happening?”
My mind flashes back to the moment I saw that video on Jordan’s phone, the video of Charley and me having sex. Who knows how many times Jordan has watched it. It makes me sick. The video shows everything, all the parts of Charley only I’ve ever seen.
“I need you to help me stop a video from getting out.” I pause for a moment, wishing this is enough to get her on my side, but I know she’s going to need more. “Jordan hid a camera in my bedroom back in Bodega Bay. I don’t know how long, but it must have been in there a while because he has a video of the first time I had sex with Charley. My girlfriend, Charley Winters. You remember her, don’t you?”
She glares at me for a moment before her gaze falls to the floor. “God, I hate him. How could you let him do that?”
“What? I didn’t let him. He did it without my knowledge.”
She shakes her head. “You can’t trust him, Ben! I told you that ten years ago.”
“He threatened me that night.”
She looks up at me. “He threatened you?”
I grit my teeth against the anger. “He threatened to say I was the one who raped you.”
She props her elbows on her knees and hangs her head in her hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he did that.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is,” she says, her voice thick with anguish. “I should have spoken up.”
I slide off my stool and take her in my arms. “It’s not your fault.”
I hold her for a few minutes until she’s calmed down. When I let go, I sit back down on the stool and wait for her to finish wiping her face before I resume the conversation.
“Jordan is threatening to release the video of me and Charley. And it shows everything. She’ll be devastated. She’ll have no reason to believe it wasn’t me who took the video. Unless…”
Her eyes widen. “You want me to come forward.”
I stare into her blue eyes unflinchingly, willing her to feel my pain, to feel the gravity of my situation. “Charley’s the love of my life, my best friend, and she’s on the verge of losing everything to that sick son of a bitch…for the second time. I wouldn’t be here if I had any other way to stop this.”
Her shoulders slump as she realizes what I’m asking. “You don’t just want me to come forward. You want me to do a DNA test.” She shakes her head. “I don’t even know how much those cost. And they’ll stop my monthly payments. I’ll have nothing. They’ll blacklist us.”
“I’ll pay for the DNA,” I offer immediately. “Whatever it costs.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Please, Katie. I’m begging—”
“No, I mean… I’ll pay for it,” she clarifies. “If you pay for the test, it will look like you’re paying me off or something.”
I clench my jaw as I realize I’m about to cry. “So, you’re gonna do it?”
She stares at the floor for a while, lost in thought.
“Katie, if you do this for me, I swear to fucking God I will not leave you high and dry. You and your son will be set for life.”
She takes a few slow breaths before she looks me in the eye. “I’ll do the DNA test. When the results come back, I’ll decide if I can do this. I’m sorry I can’t give you an answer now. I just… I have a lot to think about.”
Though I’m disappointed, I don’t want to discourage her. “I understand,” I reply. “It’s a big decision. Just know that I’ll support you any way I can, whether you decide to help me or not.”
She shakes her head. “I have women’s rights lawyers trying to convince me to be some kind of soldier for this #metoo movement. People tweeting me and emailing me every day. Paparazzi waiting for me when I go to pick up my son from school. I don’t want any of this.”
I reach forward and grab her hand. “We can’t let them get away with it, Katie. I know they’ve been threatening to cut you off, but they’re just scared you’re going to talk. I can help you get out of that…arrangement. I can verify what happened that night. And even if nothing
happens to them, you and your son will be taken care of. I promise I will not let you down.”
She lets out a long sigh. “I have a lot to think about.”
24
The Light
Now
When I enter Frank’s bedroom at the Zen Hospice, I almost gasp out loud when I see Frank sitting up in his bed with tears streaming down his face, his shoulders bouncing from the chest wracking sobs. Ben looks up from where he sits at his father’s bedside and flashes me a look of utter frustration. He stands quickly and I follow him out into the corridor.
“What happened? Is it more bad news?” I ask, my heart pounding frantically in my chest.
Ben shakes his head. “One of the nurses told him Steve Ditko passed away a few weeks ago.”
“Steve… Steve who?”
“Co-creator of Spider-Man,” Ben replies, still shaking his head.
My mouth drops open. “Oh… Oh, no.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says, flashing an angry look toward the male nursing attendant standing at Frank’s bedside. “I saw it trending on Twitter the day he died, but I figured my dad didn’t need to know. I knew it would upset him.”
I grab Ben’s hand. “I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I know, but it still sucks.”
It hurts me to see Ben so worried about his father. He’s been running himself ragged the last couple weeks, trying to make his father’s final days as comfortable and joyous as is possible given the circumstances. The day trip we took when he came back from L.A. ended up being a trip in a canoe on the lake Ben and I visited shortly before the breakup. Even with the oxygen mask over his face and his skin yellowing from the first stages of liver failure, the selfies we took that day will forever remain some of my most treasured mementos.
I’ve thought of Tyrell’s suggestion often over the last couple weeks, the idea that Ben and I should get engaged to give Frank some peace of mind before he passes on. I’ve tried to reason myself out of it. But the reality is that, when someone you love is staring death in the face, there’s really nothing more important than making them smile.