No, getting away is the wrong way to think about it. He will give them evidence and it will help them build a better case. In return, he will not have to serve a sentence. That’s how it works and that’s how most people in his position would solve the problem.
Later that afternoon, I find my father in his usual afternoon haunt; an oak covered club where men come to sit around, drink brandy, and talk politics and business like they have for the last couple hundred years. Despite women gaining the ability to vote and own property, we are still not allowed to be members because…tradition or is it misogyny? I keep getting the two confused.
The assistant at the front doesn’t want to let me in but he reluctantly goes back and finds my father. When he returns, he shows me down the long hallway and into a dark wooden room with built-in bookshelves going all the way up to the ceiling and even a ladder to make browsing easier. It’s a dream come true library for any book fan and it personally reminds me of the one from Beauty and the Beast.
There are two men sitting across from each other, talking in hushed tones. I see my father by the window in a wingback chair, nursing a crystal glass of whiskey.
I expect him to get up and give me a hug but he barely acknowledges my existence. I sit down across from him, pushing my fingers into the velvet of the seat.
“You’re not supposed to be here, Aurora. This is my private place.”
“I know but I had to talk to you and this can’t wait.”
He stares icily back into my face.
“I’m at the club,” he says, enunciating every syllable.
That’s supposed to explain something to me but it goes over my head.
“I have to talk to you–”
“Your mother called me. She told me that you ambushed her and forced her to go to the Cheesecake Factory of all places.”
“You make it sound like a war zone,” I say.
“Well, I didn’t want to do the same thing to you so I thought I would just find you here.”
He exhales slowly, laser focusing his gaze on me.
“You need to consider going to the authorities,” I say. “You need to talk to a lawyer and try to make this right.”
“I’m not making any deals,” he says sternly.
He has way too much to lose and he has already sacrificed me, to some degree, to Franklin to save himself and his company.
“Why not?” I ask.
“If I go public with this, if I make a deal, then I’m a dead man. Franklin is the only one protecting me. The guy that I made the deal with, the short seller? He’s not your usual white-collar criminal. He’s connected. He’s got ties and I can’t cross him. Why does it matter anyway?”
I want to tell him that Franklin is going down but I force myself to stop.
“Franklin and I are not going to be married for much longer. Your deal with him, I’m not gonna go through with it.”
“No, you can’t.” My father shakes his head. “If you file for divorce or if you pull out, I will no longer have Franklin’s protection.”
“That’s why you have to make a deal,” I say.
“No, that’s why you have to stay married and keep your mouth shut. We made this promise. We’re all going to be rich as a result.”
“We’re already rich, Dad. How much fucking money do you need?”
“We were rich, Aurora, but we were upside down on all of our debts and all of our mortgages when I made that deal with Franklin. Why else do you think I promised my only daughter to him? I wouldn’t have done it for no good reason. You have to trust me.”
I take a deep breath, exhaling ever so slowly. I lick my lips and look out the window.
My mouth is parched.
My lips are cracked. I came here to give him a chance to get out of this but he doesn’t believe me.
He doesn’t trust me.
What can I do?
“I’m here to help you, Dad. You’re not doing me a favor, I’m doing you a favor. Despite everything that you did to me, I’m still sitting here across from you and hoping that you will listen to me and make that deal. That’s the best advice that I can offer you.”
31
Aurora
Later that evening, I meet up with Henry at our local bookstore. It’s a chain, two floors tall, and plenty of space for waiting, drinking coffee, and just mingling.
It used to be one of my favorite places to go but now it’s also my only solace. Franklin is supposed to be working late but I still give him the courtesy of telling him where I am. So far, he has been rather trusting and I hope that continues just for a little bit longer.
Still, I’m cautiously optimistic.
Henry arrives right on time. He meets me in the stacks, on the second floor, near the philosophy section, which is what most people tend to avoid. He tries to give me a peck on the cheek but I shake my head no.
Instead, when he sits down across from me at the little round table, I reach over and squeeze his hand. He lets it drop to his lap and there, our fingers intertwine and grasp for one another’s.
“My mother is feeling a lot better,” he says after a few moments. “Thank you so much for being there for me. I don’t know how I would’ve survived it otherwise.”
“Of course, I wanted to be there.”
“I know and that’s why I love you.” His fingers wrap around mine again and give me a strong, forceful squeeze.
I tell him what little success that I had talking to my parents and then I tell him about my plan. He listens carefully and doesn’t say anything for a long time.
“What do you think?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“We have to do it. I can’t think of another way.”
“It’s too dangerous. What if...”
“There’s no way around it. If I don’t stop this, those girls are going to keep coming in there, and they’re going to keep getting hurt. Everything will continue just as it has and no one will protect them.”
“Can you just go to the police?” he asks. “Maybe they can do something.”
“No,” I say confidently, even though I am anything but that. “I can’t risk them screwing this up. I can’t risk their superiors finding out. You have seen all of those men on those videos. The chief of police wasn’t there but who knows what he owes and to whom. This is the only way.”
Finally, he gives me a slight nod. His fingers make their way up my arm and all the way up to my elbow. He’s grasping onto me, holding on, trying desperately to either stop me or be there for me. Maybe both at the same time.
I tap my foot nervously on the floor. I fold the fingers of my other hand into my palm and out again, stretching it out and looking at the whites of my knuckles.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I say after a moment.
I make my way inside and pause near the mirror. Suddenly, a flash of hot heat overwhelms me and turns my chest red. I flip the switch and place my hands underneath the stream of falling water. It’s ice cold and it feels amazing when I splash it on my face.
I don’t see him until his fingers run down my side. I glance up and our eyes meet in the mirror. He places his lips to my neck and slowly makes his way down to my shoulders.
“Someone’s going to come in,” I whisper.
He shakes his head no and says, “I locked the door.”
He pulls the top of my sweater away, exposing my bra strap and my collarbone. I glance over at the door and see that the lock is indeed turned.
He flips me around and kisses me on the mouth. I kiss him back. A fire between us builds quickly and overwhelms us both. I know that someone could come in at any moment, or rather knock on the door, but that just seems to add to the excitement. I search for his belt and unbuckle it within a few movements. I pull up on his shirt, running my fingers down his chiseled abs.
Henry slides down my leggings and I quickly step out of one foot in order to create space for his body. He props me up onto the counter, rubbing his hard cock on top of my pan
ties. My body yearns for his. I grab onto the sink with my hands as he grabs onto my breasts.
He lifts up my shirt, undoes my bra, and takes one of them in his mouth. I hear a loud latex sound as his slides on the condom. I continue to kiss his mouth as he uses his other hand to slide my panties to one side and thrusts himself inside.
My body is waiting for him. I’m wet and I take him in as far as he can come. With each move, we become more and more like one. My core burns for him. With my arms practically pinned behind my back, in order to hold myself up, he has his way with all of me.
I turn my head back and let him run his tongue all over my neck, my breasts, and up to my mouth. He continues to pierce me over and over again until a wave of pleasure rushes over me.
It comes so quickly; it catches me completely by surprise. I wanted to hold off, I want to enjoy the moment more but it just covers me entirely and my body begins to quiver.
“Let go,” he whispers into my ear, pushing himself further in, over and over again.
Whatever tension I felt, whatever worries plagued me only moments before suddenly disappear. They disperse along with all of my fears and second-guesses.
Somewhere in the distance, there’s a knock on the door. They keep trying the knob but I am too far away and lost in my own head, to tell them to get the fuck away.
Instead, I hold onto Henry. I wait for him to get there.
It doesn’t take long.
A few more strong movements and suddenly everything is right in the world.
I hold him as he moans my name.
32
Henry
A couple of days later is my first TV appearance as a crime journalist. Aurora is also there.
She has been making the rounds around various departments with Franklin’s encouragement, in an effort to figure out where she can make the most impact.
Today is her third day working with live news.
The anchor that will be interviewing me is named Glenn Reeves. He’s popular, well-known, and has the ego of someone with four times his ratings. I met him briefly but I made a deal with the producer of the segment.
He’s very good at interviews and prefers to go into these sorts of situations not knowing much. It wouldn’t be the way I would approach interviewing someone but I go with the flow.
My purpose here is to report and promote the O.J. Simpson podcast that I’ve been working on and to hopefully bring over some of the viewers to my show.
As I sit in front of the mirror, a woman about twenty-years older than I am puts on a thick pound of foundation on my face.
I try to get a hold of my nerves.
I’ve never done something so public before, as I have always been able to hide behind the microphone. Being live and having people actually see me scares the shit out of me but this is the only way to do it.
“How are you feeling?” Glenn asks, popping his head into the dressing room.
I glance at the time to make sure that I’m not running late.
“No, you’re good. I was just walking by. I heard about your podcast, great job.”
“Thank you, that really means a lot and thank you so much for having me on.”
“Hey, where would the network news be if we didn’t have an old rating hog to report on like the O.J. Simpson case.”
I stare at him, unsure how I should respond.
My heart races but not just because I’m about to be on network television. It’s more than that.
“Listen, don’t be nervous,” Glenn says, with the casual smile that made millions fall in love with him.
In only a minute, he can become your best friend, or at least make it feel like it.
“It’s just my first time doing something like this,” I say.
“All that is going to happen is that I’ll ask you questions and you’ll tell me what you found out and what you’re working on. It’s a ten-minute segment and it’ll fly by in thirty seconds. You have nothing to worry about. You’re in great hands.”
“I appreciate the encouragement.” I give him a confident nod and watch him walk away.
If only he knew what is about to happen…
A few minutes later, I stand in the studio and watch Leslie Mountain, the weatherman, predict more doom and gloom in terms of the plummeting temperatures. Everyone else at the desk makes jokes about how much they hate winter while Leslie tries to liven up the mood. I watch them practically blame the snowstorm and the low hanging clouds on him, as if he were the guy creating the situation.
“Listen, it’s not like it’s my fault.” Leslie keeps insisting.
His mouth is still formed into a smile, but with his eyes he is glaring at Glenn and the rest of the morning news team, even scowling a bit.
They cut to the commercial break and one of the female news anchors apologizes to Leslie.
“I’m just getting really sick of this shit,” he says. “You all act like it’s my fault that the goddamn weather is what it is.”
She tries to walk after him, but he rushes away before she can catch up to him.
“So, what do you think about the studio?” Franklin asks, putting his hand on my shoulder.
I flinch. I stop breathing mid-inhale. He is supposed to be upstairs. This isn’t going to plan.
“I am… Good. I mean, it’s great,” I mumble
“I can see that you’re not nervous at all,” Franklin says sarcastically.
I shrug and try to get a hold of myself. I take a deep breath, shifting my weight from one side to the other.
“Well, you know me, I’ve never done something like this before. I don’t know how I’ll be…in front of the camera.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Franklin says. “If those four idiots can do it, anyone can.”
He is right beside my ear, just out of shot but his condescension is not lost on the on-air team.
Back in the makeup room, I heard a conversation about just how much they hate him and dislike the fact that he bought Tate Media.
“Besides,” Franklin continues, “this is gonna be really great exposure for you and for the podcast. People love those true crime shows, right?”
I nod and shift my weight again, stepping slowly from one side to the other.
“Hell, the Discovery Channel started a whole separate channel devoted exclusively just to their true crime stories.”
“Is that what you’re thinking of doing?” I ask.
“True crime is cheap to produce and the best part is that you can keep talking about those old cases and people keep watching. O.J. Simpson, Scott Peterson, Robert Blake. All of those stories are brand new to younger viewers and it provides an element of nostalgia to the older ones. They remember when that story was all over the news and now, they can get a nice processed version about what really happened.”
“I hope that your cynicism doesn’t rub off on me anytime soon,” I say.
Franklin’s eyes focus on mine, and then he starts to laugh. I’ve never seen him laugh this hard. It builds somewhere deep in his stomach and comes out in waves, one stronger than the next.
“I didn’t think that that was particularly funny,” I point out.
“I like you, Henry. You’re not much of a yes-man or ass licker and you’d be surprised how unique that is in this business.”
Maybe that makes me an idiot.
When has standing up to your boss ever gotten you anything positive in life?
That shit only works on television. In real life, that’s the kind of thing that will get you fired and blacklisted from good career opportunities.
33
Henry
Franklin showing up down here, in the studio, is against the plan. I already have certain reservations about what is going to happen and whether this is the best approach but now I feel completely uncertain.
I take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves but my heart continues to pound from the inside out.
One of the producers walks me to my seat. The commercial
break is almost over.
Now, it’s just the two of us, Glenn and me. All of the other personalities are standing in the wings, with their heads buried in their phones.
No one is expecting the segment to be anything but a simple promotion for my O.J. Simpson podcast.
“Take a deep breath, man. It’s going to be all right,” Glenn says.
I know that my nervousness is showing.
That’s bad.
I grab my thigh underneath the table and rub my fingers on it.
Calm down, calm the fuck down, I say silently to myself over and over again.
I glance over to the television cameras. Aurora is standing next to the table with all of the food, near the office. She takes a step closer to me. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest and her eyes are laser-focused on mine.
She gives me a nod.
I shake my head no.
I want to ask her, what if we wait?
What if right now is not the best time?
But I can’t.
All I can do is move my head slightly in Franklin’s direction and watch her react.
She gives me another nod.
She knows that he’s here and she wants to stick to the plan.
Okay, I take a deep breath. It’s showtime.
Someone counts down and the red light comes on. Words start to scroll up the teleprompter, and Glenn introduces me with the ease and expertise of a veteran newscaster.
“So, Henry, over the years, the O.J. Simpson case has been covered extensively,” Glenn says, turning away from the teleprompter. “Why don’t I ask you a question that all of my viewers are thinking right now?”
I laugh. “Sure.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I look over at Aurora. I don’t see her by the catering table. She must be in the control room. I have an earphone that the producers have given me, but I’m also wearing another secret one.
“Go ahead,” Aurora says into my ear. “I’m ready.”
Fatal Marriage Page 13