“Oh, my,” the female officer says as she drops her phone to her waist. “Oh, that’s not good.”
“No, ma’am. It’s not.”
“Let me see,” Officer Smart says, reaching for the phone. Lieutenant Mills doesn’t hand it over, though.
“You don’t need to see it. It’s a sex tape.”
“Oh, boy,” he mumbles. “Ohhhhhh, boy. Miss, how old are you, if I may ask.”
“Eighteen,” she says.
“Got some ID on you?”
I simultaneously scratch and shake my head. “It’s in my purse.” She hurries into the other room to get it.
“This sucks snow cones,” she mumbles as she walks past. I bite back a smile; she’d be pissed if she knew I was laughing right now, but I can’t not laugh when she says that. Another knock at the door rescues me from getting caught in my amused state.
My parents and Danny look about as stressed out as I’ve seen them. “Hey,” I say. None of them says a word as they walk in. I start to shut the door, only to see two other people following.
“I assume you haven’t met Coley’s parents yet? We just ran into each other in the lobby,” Dad says to me.
I take a deep breath and finish buttoning up my shirt. She didn’t tell me they’d be here so soon. The video must have been up for hours for them to be here already. I reach out for her father’s hand. “I have not. I’m Trey.”
“Can we come in?” her dad asks, choosing to ignore my polite gesture.
“Of course, please.” I meet Coley’s eyes across the apartment as she talks to Officer Smart, hoping she can see my sheer and utter frustration and anxiety.
“Mom! Dad!” she exclaims, rushing to them and hugging them both. “Did you meet Trey?”
“I’m Special Agent Fitzsimmons. This is Officer Beth Fitzsimmons from the DCPD. That’s my daughter.” They’re not speaking to me at all. They’re both directing all of their attention to the other cops in the room. “What have you found so far?” My dad and Danny introduce themselves, as well, and the six of them start asking questions and sharing details. It would probably make sense to include me, but it distinctly feels like one of those moments in my life where the adults are handling things–they’re treating me like a child.
Coley and I put our arms around each other while I try to figure out what to do. I feel like the NYPD sent their two least competent officers to my place today. Nobody briefed them on what happened before they got here. Coley’s dad could have the FBI on it for all I know. I can tell her mother won’t take shit from anyone. And from the looks of things, my dad is still somehow disappointed in me for this.
“Are you okay?” Mom walks over to me and takes my hand.
“Mom, there’s nothing I could have done to prevent this,” I start in on her angrily. “We’re victims of a crime, and I’d really like to think you two are on my side, but–”
“Trey, Trey, Trey…” She squeezes my hand tightly. “I know. I’m sorry about this morning. We didn’t have any of the facts, and we drew all the wrong conclusions.” She lets go of me and reaches out for Coley’s hand. “I’m Emi.”
“Coley… Fitzsimmons. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Her eyes begin to water. I know this isn’t how she’d wanted to meet my mother. I know that image my parents saw of her is not the one she’d want as a first impression.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Mom says as she holds her arms out. My girlfriend lets go of me and falls onto my mother’s shoulder, releasing her insecure tears.
“I’m a nice girl, Mrs. Holland,” she sobs. “I can’t imagine what you must think of me, but I am so many things that video doesn’t show, and those are the things I wanted you to know about me.”
“I know,” my mother whispers, running her hand down Coley’s braid. “I know. Trey’s told us you’re a writer on the paper with him.” Sadly, they know very little about her, but at least it’s a starting place. Feeling that my girlfriend is in good hands, I walk over to everyone else.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” I speak over their conversation, “but I may be able to provide some insight into this situation. This is my apartment. Care to include me in this?”
Everyone stops talking and looks at me.
“Okay, maybe I did mean to interrupt,” I say, swallowing hard. “Mr. Fitzsimmons? Mrs. Fitzsimmons?”
“It’s Special Agent Fitzsimmons to you,” her dad interrupts. No, I’m not going to call him that.
“Daddy, he’s not gonna call you that. Martin, Trey. Just call him Martin.” He glares at his daughter, but doesn’t argue with her.
“I’m Trey, Coley’s boyfriend.” When they appear nonplussed by my introduction, I just continue on. “The camera is mounted out on the balcony–”
“No apology for what you’ve done to our daughter?”
I look her father straight in the eyes. He’s actually my height, but more muscular than I am. “What?”
“Would you care to apologize for the embarrassment you’ve brought on my daughter and my family?”
“Martin–”
“Dad? I’ve got this. Mr. Fitzsimmons, maybe you don’t understand what happened here. Your daughter and I were both victims of a crime. We’re also both adults who were willing participants in what happened last night. I honestly see nothing to apologize for. I brought her here, feeling we were in a private place. I had no way of knowing someone put that camera on my railing and recorded us. I had no way of knowing they were going to put it online. All I want to do now is have the camera removed, make sure there are no more, get the video taken down, set consequences for places that continue to broadcast it, and find out who filmed us and posted it in the first place. I don’t have time to argue with you about who you think was irresponsible. I know for certain that Coley and I were very responsible last night.”
“Shutting the blinds would have kept any of this from happening,” her mother says.
“I’m twenty-seven stories up with a park view. Look outside. Can you see into any windows? Well, no one can see into mine, either, Mrs. Fitzsimmons. I’ve yet to close the blinds since I’ve moved in.” She’s taken aback by my candor. “I apologize for my bluntness,” I concede.
She nods once.
“Any idea who would do this, Trey?” Danny asks.
“Yeah. I had a run-in with a paparazzo at the airport when I picked up Zai last Sunday. We got into it, and he threatened to do something… something like this.”
“What do you mean?” Coley’s dad asks.
I glance back at my dad. I’m not sure why–maybe hoping for a boost of confidence or something. I know he can’t help me, though. “When he was taking pictures, I was in the middle of breaking up with my… ex-girlfriend.” I shake my head, hating that everything has happened in such a condensed timespan and wishing I had been honest and open with someone in my family about my feelings for Coley weeks ago. After taking a breath, I look back into her father’s eyes to finish my explanation. “He was prying; asking why I was fighting with Zaina. He asked if I was cheating on her, and I told him I wasn’t–because I wasn’t. Coley and I were strictly platonic until after the breakup. Just good friends. But the guy said he was going to find who…” I can’t say it like he said it. “…who I was fooling around with. As if he knew I was lying or something. He said he was on a mission.”
“How did it escalate to that, Jackson?” Dad asks.
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t leave me alone. He insulted me. I insulted him. I wasn’t in a good headspace in the first place,” I admit. “I’m pretty sure the whole interaction’s online.”
“And how do you think he would get in?”
“I have no idea. I guess we need to ask the doormen.”
“Do you always set your alarm?”
“Religiously.”
“And no one has your code?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Aside from you guys and Liv and Jon… Coley does. Jenny does. The maintenance staff lead does.”
?
??Coley has it?” Dad asks.
“She stayed with me the week after Pryana was raped. Pree was sleeping in Coley’s dorm room.” I look away from his squinty stare as he obviously tries to piece everything together.
“Coley’s incredibly trustworthy,” her mother says, defending her. “Who’s Jenny?”
“His housekeeper,” Mom says as she and Coley join in the conversation. “She’s also very trustworthy. She’s been working for our daughter for nearly four years and for Trey for nine months.”
“So that leaves your maintenance staff,” Danny says. “We need to question them for anyone who may have come by asking to see you.”
“We could look at the security footage, right?” I suggest.
“We need to narrow down the timeline.”
“It’s only been a week since my encounter with the photographer.”
Our lawyer nods. “Yeah, I can call the company.”
“We’ll go downstairs and talk to building management,” the cops say. “We need to bring some detectives in to get some prints and look for other cameras, maybe mics. You never know.”
“Can we do that today?” Dad asks.
“Yes,” Mr. Fitzsimmons says. “I’ll make sure it happens today.”
“What jurisdiction do you have here?” Officer Smart asks.
“I work for the president, Officer. If you’re not willing to cooperate, I know people who will make sure you do.”
“We’ll make some calls,” Lieutenant Mills says. “No need to escalate this.”
“I’ll be making my own calls anyway.”
“I’d like to oversee the questioning,” Coley’s mom says. When the NYPD cops start to protest, a simple look from her dad shuts them both up. He’s not a bad ally to have, and he’s on my side whether he wants to be or not.
“Jackson, why don’t you put on a pot of coffee?” Dad asks as the cops and Coley’s parents leave to go ask their various questions. Danny goes into the guest room to make a phone call.
“Sure, Grandpa,” I say to him sarcastically. “I can run downstairs to Starbucks, if you’d like.”
“I’ll go,” my mother volunteers. “Coley, what do you like?”
“You’ll need help carrying things. I’ll come with you.” Mom looks at me and my father warily. I know what it’s like to be hounded by photographers once a newsworthy story gets out. I’ve been chased around the city on more than one occasion. I’m sure Coley has seen the evidence of it in magazine pictures, too, without realizing what an invasion of privacy it really is. She’s about to get a huge reality check.
“No, you stay,” Mom insists. “Danny can come with me. Just give me your order.”
“Okay. Caramel Macchiato, please. I have some cash.”
“No.” I grab her arm and shake my head, wanting her to sit down with me and my dad in the living room.
“Thank you, Mrs. Holland.”
“It’s Emi. Always Emi.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Still Emi.”
“Okay,” Coley laughs. “Emi. Got it.”
“Apparently, I’m Grandpa,” Dad says to her, offering his hand to her. “But you can call me Jack.”
“Coley.” Her eyes are wide as she speaks to my father. “I wish I had my high school transcripts or Columbia application essay or something to give you that would allow you to see a quick summation of who I am. Something that would counterbalance anything else you may have seen.” She squints her eyes shut. I really don’t want to think about my dad watching her in that video, either.
“You’re an accomplished poet,” he says to her. “I read every word of The Daily Wit. I’m partial to my son’s articles, but your column is a very close second. When I saw the word interstitial in one of your… poeticles? Is that what you call them?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, when I saw interstitial, I thought, ‘What’s she going to do with that one? She’ll never come up with a rhyme that fits her story.’ And out of nowhere comes deferential, and somehow it flowed and was perfectly appropriate for the line. I knew you were gifted when I read that.”
“That was your second published article,” I remind her.
“Trey challenged me to use interstitial,” she explains. “It took me forty-five minutes to come up with the rhyme.”
“Half of that time was spent complaining to me about using the word in the first place, though,” I remind her.
“That’s true,” she says, laughing with me. “But it’s a great word.”
My dad watches our interaction. “I loved reading the whole thing.”
“Well, thank you.”
“Tell me more about yourself. You have a brother, right?”
“Two, actually,” she says with an easy smile. “Nyall’s two years older, and Joel is two minutes older.”
“You’re a twin? I’m a twin!” Dad says. “Kelly’s about six minutes younger than me,” he says. “Isn’t it great?”
“Yeah,” Coley says. “It’s like I was born with a built-in best friend. Someone to play with when I was little, someone to ask questions of when I was curious, someone to confide in when I got older. He’s always been there for me. He, um… he lost his hearing when we were eleven, so I think we became even closer then. I became his cheerleader for awhile. His voice. It definitely made me more confident; more outgoing than he is. But he’s super creative. Very intuitive and thoughtful.”
“He’s very protective of her,” I add.
“That’s an understatement. The only reason he’s not here is that he’s in Boston with a friend this weekend.”
“He’s doing his job right, then,” my father says. “He’s going to have a rough time this week.”
“How so?” she asks.
“Dating Jackson. He’s a great kid, don’t get me wrong, but because he’s a Holland, that already creates complications. At Columbia, he can lead a fairly autonomous life. Off campus, though, if word gets out that he’s anywhere, you can count on a crowd forming.
“And that’s just on a normal day. This? This isn’t a normal day,” Dad says, looking remorseful. “It’s going to be a mess. Around the city and on campus, unfortunately. That video spread like wildfire. Acquaintances I haven’t spoken to in years were calling me to tell me about it.” I look down as my face heats in a blush. “We’ll do everything we can to have it taken down from as many places as possible, but as we found out with Livvy when she was younger, these things never completely go away.
“Anyone who’s on your side–your parents, Jackson, Joel, Nyall, whoever–they’ll be defending your honor for a long time to come.”
“I guess I can finally be glad Nyall doesn’t get to see any news or magazines,” Coley says. “He’ll never have to think of me any differently.” I take her hand in mine and kiss the back of it. “There’s one bright side to that situation. He would be crushed.”
“It will require a lot of personal strength and character, too,” he adds. I start to think about her antidepressants and wonder if something like this will affect her.
“I feel like I’ve just brought you into a cult today,” I say to her, almost apologetically. “Coley, I want you to promise me you’ll talk to me if it gets overwhelming. I’ll do anything for you.”
She nods and smiles. “Thank you.”
“If you don’t have hoodies, you may want to invest in one or twenty,” Dad says. “The kids live in them.”
“I’ve noticed that Trey has a lot.”
“He’s so tall, he can’t really hide from anyone, but he gives it a damn good try.” I smile at him. “Tell me the truth, Jackson. When did you two start dating? I could sense you and Zaina drifting apart at Christmas. I felt it was inevitable then… but I’m not a fool. You two interact like a couple that’s been together for awhile. You as much as admitted you liked her to me before.”
“Dad, I swear. We were not involved before Zai and I broke up. We’ve just worked together all semester, so we’ve spent a lot of time getti
ng to know one another.”
“We have… chemistry,” Coley says.
“That’s quite obvious.”
“Last night was our first real date.”
He looks into my eyes and smiles, then pats me on the leg. “I believe you.”
chapter twenty-one
It takes four hours for everyone to clear out of my apartment, including five investigators who swept the place and removed the camera after they checked for prints. My parents offered to take Coley’s out to lunch while Danny went to spend the afternoon combing through a week’s worth of security footage to find evidence of Evan Midland, the paparazzo who threatened me last week, somehow getting into my apartment. The building management, staff, and doormen were of no help. The fact is, people slip by all the time, riding up the elevator with other residents. It’s not the most secure building. It’s not like Liv’s building, where you have to have a special key to get to her floor–granted, Dad owns the floor, and he took that safety measure himself.
It was my choice to rent while I’m in college, and while my father was able to make some modifications to the building by adding security cameras in the hallway, there wasn’t much more he could do. My own alarm system should have done the trick. The failure in that is what needs to be investigated.
Not ready to go out in public, Coley and I stay in. Teri and Pryana bring a few of Coley’s things from her dorm, as well as lunch that I’d ordered from Dig Inn. I’m addicted, and I’m making an addict out of my girlfriend, too. It’s all locally-sourced and relatively healthy, so I don’t figure it’s a problem.
“Has anyone at Carman Hall seen the video?” Coley asks her roommate. Teri’s expression says it all. That everyone has seen it. “I can’t go back there.”
“Everyone thinks… y’all released it,” she admits.
“What?” I ask, halting my task of setting the table. “Shit, are you kidding?” Teri shakes her head. “I don’t want anyone thinking that.”
“Trey, you have over eight-hundred-thousand Twitter followers. Why don’t you say something about it?”
“Because I use that for my blog. I use it to share useful information and to raise awareness about issues in our community.”