Off the Air

by L.H. Cosway

  We were so bloody screwed.

  Twenty-Two

  Leanne

  I’d just gotten home from a long and exhausting meeting with a boardroom full of lawyers and television executives when my phone rang with yet another call from my mum.

  I’d spent over an hour talking with her, my dad, and my sister last night, explaining to them about the pictures. They were more concerned for me than for their own embarrassment, not caring what family and neighbours might think. It only reinforced to me how amazing they were.

  I was incredibly lucky to have such a great and supportive family. But still, the fact that pictures of me having sex were circulating on the internet killed me a little inside. I felt violated, laid bare. Outrage and embarrassment mingled inside me, a toxic mix.

  Unsurprisingly, the last twenty-four hours had been manic. Several times I found my fingers itching to pick up a drink, drown my sorrows in liquor, but I resisted. I was in the middle of a media shitstorm and I needed to keep a clear head.

  “Hi, Mum,” I said, bringing the phone to my ear as I dropped my wallet and keys on the kitchen counter.

  “Hello honey, how did the meeting go? I’ve been worried sick.”

  I let out a long, beleaguered sigh. “Well, the good news is they didn’t fire us.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.”

  “The bad news is they’re docking our fee by twenty-five percent because we violated our contracts. Plus, we’re going to be on yearly contracts indefinitely instead of three years like the rest of the cast. Tanya tried her best to fight our corner, but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do given the circumstances.”

  She made a huffing noise of irritation. “I wished you’d discussed it with myself and your father before you signed that thing. It was incredibly unethical for them to have you agree to something like that in the first place.”

  “Yeah well, I can’t take it back now. To be honest, I think they’re secretly glad all this happened. The story is everywhere, which means embarrassment and shame for Cal and me, but big publicity for the show.”

  “It’s bloody disgusting,” Mum said, furious. “I hope they’re going to find out who did this. It’s a blatant invasion of privacy, not to mention breaking the law.”

  I sighed, running a hand down my face. “You have no idea what people will do for a viral story these days.”

  “Vultures, the lot of them,” Mum griped. “I hope you’ve turned off all those social media accounts of yours. It’s not healthy for you to be looking at them right now, honey.”

  “Uh, yeah,” I lied, scratching my head. I wished I had the strength not to look online, but my curiosity got the better of me. Now I had all these awful comments swirling around in my head.

  She’s way too ugly for Callum. What does he see in her?

  Where’s the sex tape? I wanna see that whore cum.

  She looks like a terrible lay.

  “It’s for the best,” Mum said, interrupting my thoughts. “No good can come of reading comments online. How is Callum holding up, and his poor mother?”

  “He’s angry, which is understandable. He’s with his mum now. I think she’s pretty upset about the whole thing. They only have each other since his dad’s not in the picture, so it’s tough.”

  “Well, send her my love. Oh, before I forget, your dad and I would like it if you came to stay with us, just for a few days until this blows over.”

  It was going to take more than a few days for this to blow over, but I decided not to burst her bubble. Besides, spending some time at my parents’ house actually sounded pretty good.

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll come tomorrow.”

  We hung up and I went into my living room to flop down on the couch. When I arrived at my apartment building, there’d been a number of reporters outside, but I ignored them and told the doorman to not, under any circumstances let anyone up to my apartment. That was probably why I got a frustrated text from Paul saying how he couldn’t get in. I completely forgot he was coming over.

  I called down to the front desk and they quickly let him in. I opened my door just as he stepped off the lift. He opened his arms and pulled me into a hug. “How’ve you been?”

  “Shitty, but better now that you’re here.”

  He lifted a brown paper bag. “I brought noodles.”

  “You’re a godsend. Come on, I’ll plate them up.”

  Paul and I sat at my table and ate while discussing all the drama of the leaked pictures.

  “They’ll be talking about something else in no time, just you wait and see,” he reassured.

  All through our conversation, my phone wouldn’t quit buzzing with notifications, but I refused to look. When Paul went to use the bathroom, I couldn’t resist taking a peek. There were a million tags and comments clogging up my timeline. The comments were the worst.

  If I were her, I’d kill myself.

  That one really hit home and like the flick of a switch, I started to cry. Since the airport I’d held in all my feelings, trying to stay strong. I couldn’t believe it was one comment from some careless, faceless person that broke me.

  “Oh, Leanne,” Paul said sadly when he emerged from the bathroom. He pulled my phone from my hand, looked at the screen and cursed.

  “Fucking sociopaths.”

  “How can people be so cruel? Don’t they realise I’m a person too?” I said with a sob.

  Paul took my hands in his, his eyes steady and full of care. “It’s called deindividualization. When people are in a crowd, or anonymous on the internet, they don’t feel culpable for their actions, so they’ll do or say things they might not if they were speaking to you one-on-one. People can say the cruellest things on the internet and there are no consequences. It’s the epidemic of our generation.”

  “But why would they even want to?” I sniffled. “I would never feel the need to go online and put someone down like that.”

  “It’s not that they go online with that exact intention. But when they find themselves in a position to comment, the devil on their shoulder pushes them to say something nasty. There’s a certain relief in spreading misery when a part of you feels miserable about something in your own life. And we all feel something’s missing, no matter how good we have it.”

  “Not you though. You’re one of the happiest people I know.”

  For a second, there was a flicker behind his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. “Like I said, we all have something we’re dealing with. We just keep it on the inside. This whole internet shaming thing replaces the catharsis we used to get from watching executions. There’s a Latin phrase that translates to “bread and circuses”. In Roman times, a law was passed to provide grain to the poorest citizens, and they were provided entertainment in the form of gladiatorial games. So, the larger population was well fed and distracted, happy for people to fight to the death because it was fun and safe to watch from afar.”

  “So what you’re saying we is, in over two thousand years the format has changed, but we haven’t?”

  Paul shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  I gave a small smile. When he explained things so intellectually, it broke me away from my feelings, helped me to look at things from a more logical, level-headed perspective. “How’d you get to be so smart?”

  He grinned. “Simple. I read books.”

  I thought about all the people who were writing vile things about Cal and me. I thought about their lives and how they might be unhappy. Somehow, it made my own suffering feel less. They didn’t know me, not the real me. They didn’t know what I’d been through. They might as well have been talking about a blank page, just something to channel all their worst thoughts onto, to distract themselves.

  Bread and circuses.

  My phone started ringing and as soon as I saw Cal’s name on the screen, I picked up.

  “Hey.” Why did I sound so breathy?

  “It’s good to hear your voice,” he replied, sounding as exhausted as I felt.

 
A smile tugged at my lips. It seemed ironic that Cal was the one thing in my life right now that made me feel peaceful, when for so long it had been the opposite. “You saw me at the meeting a couple of hours ago.”

  “It’s not the same,” he replied, and it sounded like he closed a door before his voice lowered. “I just want to be alone with you, be inside you.”

  My chest tingled and sharp arousal built between my legs, all from the sexy quality of his voice. Those pictures leaking might’ve thrown a spanner in the works of our everyday lives, but they did nothing to quell our feelings for one another. I glanced at Paul and he waggled his brows, blatantly earwigging, so I stood and went into my bedroom, closing the door. “I thought we were taking things slow.”

  “We are,” he said, then sighed. “It’s just been insanity since we landed. I need something to take the edge off. Guess I’ll just have to use my hand.”

  “Coming isn’t the only way to take the edge off,” I whispered.

  Cal laughed deeply. “Oh? What other options are there?”

  “A workout always helps.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “Maybe I’ll try that.”

  I cleared my throat and asked, “So, um, how have you been? Are you okay?” I wasn’t the only who’d had their privacy violated. I just hoped Cal hadn’t been letting all the online comments get to him like I had.

  I heard him exhale heavily. “I’m tired, but I’ll survive. I’ll be better once we can finally spend some time together. Are you free tomorrow night?”

  “Why?” I asked with a hint of flirtation. “Do you want to take me out?”

  “I want to do a lot more than that, but for now, yes, I’d like to take you out.”

  I flushed, smiling widely, but then I remembered I promised I’d visit Mum and Dad. “I can’t,” I said, regretful. “I’m going to stay at my parents’ place for a few days. The press has been outside my apartment day and night. I need to get away.”

  “Yeah, they’ve been outside mine too. Some of them have even been at Mum’s house, hassling her.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “You’re lucky your parents live outside of London.”

  I hesitated, then offered. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  He sounded surprised. “To your parents’ house?”

  “Yes, you could sleep on the couch…”

  He gave a low chuckle. “As tempting as that sounds, I don’t want to leave Mum alone right now.”

  “How is she?”

  He sighed gently. “She’s holding up. But I can’t leave her at the mercy of all those reporters. I’m staying with her until this all dies down.”

  “Please tell her I’m thinking of her.”

  “I will. You should come to visit when you’re back. She wants to see you.”

  “Okay. I will.”

  A moment of silence fell before Cal said, “So I guess our date’s on the back burner for a little bit?”

  “Yes,” I replied, relieved he wasn’t annoyed about putting things off.

  “I miss you already,” he breathed, low and husky.

  “I miss you too,” I replied.

  “I’ll see you when you get back. And Leanne?”

  “Yes?”

  “Dream of me.”

  I hung up, butterflies invading my insides. He was being so sweet and patient, and seeing this new side to him had me feeling all sorts of loved up. Spending a few days without him was going to be tough, but I needed to spend time with my family. Recalibrate and armour myself against the fact that my privacy had been breached in a way that couldn’t ever be taken back.

  I couldn’t stop fixating on who took those pictures. It just didn’t make sense. The only person who came close to being a suspect was Autumn Hayes, the podcaster who’d spent the day with us, but she’d gone back to New York long before the pictures were taken. Plus, even if she had been there, I just didn’t get that vibe from her.

  That left only one other possibility and the very idea made my stomach twist.

  This had been an inside job.

  Twenty-Three

  Leanne

  “Hey! Don’t do that!” I said, giggling while my nephew pulled at my ear. I sat on my parents’ living room floor, my chubby one-year-old nephew in my lap. His big blue eyes were a balm for the soul. My parents babysat Sam most weekdays while my sister, Lorna and her husband worked, but this week I’d taken him captive. He was the cutest, cuddliest little boy in the world. Caring for him erased my anxiety, put all my worries into perspective.

  “Whoosh!” I said, lifting him into the air before lowering him back down. His baby giggle healed my heart. I gave him a couple more whooshes and belly kisses before Mum came into the room.

  “You’ll make him dizzy if you keep doing that,” she warned.

  “But it makes him laugh. I love hearing his laugh,” I said.

  Mum sat down on the sofa, watching us. I wondered if she was thinking the same thing I was. That if life had taken a different turn, I could’ve had a toddler of my own right now. Would I have been a good mother? Would Cal have been a good dad? Sure, we were young, but neither of us ever shied away from a challenge. I was pretty sure we would’ve given our all to parenting. The thought made me sad, but hopeful.

  Maybe one day…

  I couldn’t believe I was even thinking about it, but being home with my family helped me put things into perspective. Being around people who loved me made me realise that I didn’t always have to focus on what I’d lost, but instead on all the amazing things I had.

  In the city, I hadn’t noticed how much I was drowning, unable to resist checking my phone to see what awful new things people were saying about Cal and me. As soon as I stepped in the door to my parents’ house, my dad confiscated my phone, deleted every last one of my social media apps then handed it back to me.

  At first, I’d been outraged and the first day was rough, but now I existed in blissful unawareness. The only thing I used my phone for was chatting with Cal, and we’d been texting up a storm. Everything felt new and fresh, in spite of all the ugliness that was out there in the media. I think the shock and fear of being arrested back in Johannesburg, combined with the horror of the leaked pictures made us truly realise what we meant to each other. That all the petty fights and rivalries were pointless in the face of true adversity.

  Speaking of, my phone buzzed with a text and I handed Sam over to Mum. Every time Cal texted me, I got an excited flutter in my belly. His messages felt like little gifts throughout the day.

  Callum: Just finished five gruelling hours of narration. My brain has given up hope.

  I chuckled. When we finished filming on location, we had to complete hours of in-studio narration. This meant sitting in a chair and describing things from weeks ago like they were happening in real time. It took some getting used to, and like Cal said, your brain felt like mush afterward.

  Leanne: Don’t remind me. I have to go in next week to do mine.

  Callum: RIP Leanne’s brain.

  Callum: Btw, I hired a private investigator to find out who took the pictures.

  My heart froze as I read his text.

  Leanne: Really? Do you think they’ll be able to find who did it?

  The last couple of days I’d sort of made my peace with everything. Finding the person who took those pictures couldn’t change what happened. Besides, we’d hired a company that specialised in erasing things from the internet, videos, pictures, social media posts, and such. Up until a week ago, I had no clue these sorts of companies existed. Now I knew you could pay someone to clean up your misguided online past. In mine and Cal’s case, we just wanted the photos gone. Since it was still a hot topic, people reposted them each time they were deleted, but after a couple of months they’d get bored and quit.

  I hoped.

  Callum: Most likely scenario is that they work for the show. How else could they have gotten onto the grounds of the house to take pictures? Whoever it was needs to be fired
.

  His text echoed my own suspicions. The guesthouse had been surrounded by walls and the security cameras hadn’t shown anyone breaking in or out. Was there some unhappy, disgruntled member of the film crew who’d decided to cash in? It really upset me to think someone we worked with could do this.

  The next morning, I regretfully said goodbye to my family and headed home. As nice as it was to spend time with them, I needed to work and get back to regular life. Mum had helped me find a therapist in the city, who I planned to see a few times a month. Not only did I still need to sort through old personal issues, but I was also keen to unwrap all the feelings I’d been having since the photos leaked. My past experience taught me that keeping things bottled up never led anywhere good.

  I was at the studio, having just finished my first narration session, when I spotted Cal coming down the corridor. His face lit up when he saw me and I couldn’t help smiling too.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” I greeted.

  “Is it creepy that I had Michaela check your schedule?” he asked and made a funny face.

  I laughed. “A little.” I couldn’t drag my eyes away from his.

  Cal took a step closer, taking my hand and running his thumb along the inside of my wrist. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch?”

  I suppressed a shudder and tried to keep my voice steady. “Does this count as a date?”

  His lips twitched. “If you’d like.”

  “Well, okay then.”

  He kept hold of my hand as he led me outside to where he’d parked his Ducati. Cal slid his helmet on before removing something from his rucksack. “I got this for you,” he said, producing a small black helmet. Open-mouthed, I took it and saw the little crown with a swirly L inside, the same as his tattoo.

  “Did you get this custom made?”

  He nodded, smiling fondly. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it,” I breathed, attempting and failing to get it on.

  “Here, let me,” Cal murmured, coming and taking the helmet. He settled it properly on my head then clipped it around my chin. His fingers grazed me and I trembled.