The Standout

by Laurel Osterkamp

  “Hey!”

  I turn toward the voice at the end of the room and see that it belongs to a young man with wavy brown hair and a crooked smile. “Sorry it took me so long to get here. Class went late. Is there still room in the foosball competition?”

  “Sure, Nick,” Monty states. “You can join the short team.”

  Nick comes over, sees me, and extends a hand. “Hi!” he says. “You must be Ted. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m—”

  I cut him off. “I know who you are. You’re the guy who wants to marry my sister.”

  Chapter 35

  I make Nick promise to have lunch with me tomorrow. Unfortunately, Monty invites himself along, and we’re going to eat at Jack’s restaurant. Two extra family members will make figuring Nick out more difficult. At least Ian can’t be there. As it is, I don’t know how I’m supposed to interrogate Nick with Jack and Monty around.

  Right now Monty leads me to the guestroom. It’s spacious, like everything else in their house, with brown walls and a low, square-shaped bed that looks like a waterbed but the mattress is firm.

  “I hope you’ll be comfortable,” Monty says. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “It’s perfect. Thanks for letting me stay.”

  “Of course. You’re welcome any time, Ted.” He taps his fingers against his thigh, as if his mind is racing with unasked questions. I put my suitcase on a low table and unzip it, to signal that I’m about to unpack. Maybe now he’ll leave me alone.

  Nope. Monty clears his throat. “So, is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Of course.” I can hear the tightness in my voice but can’t be bothered to loosen it. “Do you have a Wi-Fi password? I need to catch up on some work emails.”

  “Yeah. I’ll write it down for you.” Monty grabs a pen and a slip of paper from a basket on the dresser and scrolls down the information. “Here you go.” He hands it to me.

  “Thanks.” I try to make my smile genuine but I can imagine how stressed my face must look.

  “So, Tina is okay? You and Tina are okay?”

  Is it because he’s a lawyer that he’ll ask anyone anything, no matter how personal the question? I take out my laptop and I plop it onto the bed. “She’s fine. We’re. . . you know. Marriage is hard.” Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t planning to but the words just trekked out.

  “You don’t have to tell me.”

  Please. The way Lucy looks at him is like how Tina used to look at me, but that light left her eyes years ago. Besides, Monty is used to adoration because he’s lived with it his entire life. “You haven’t been married for as long as Tina and me,” I tell him. “Just wait, it gets worse.” I know that if I sound too negative he’ll cross-examine me more, so I pump some air into my words. “Still, Tina and I are fine. I’m just here to meet Nick. I didn’t want Robin’s wedding to be the first time we were introduced.”

  “I thought you weren’t coming to the wedding.”

  I pause, caught in a lie. “Robin told you that?”

  Monty looks at me, unblinking. “She and Lucy have grown close. It was Lucy who offered to host the wedding at our place, and they went shopping for dishes and stuff together. They tell each other things, and then Lucy tells me. . .” Monty shrugs like it’s no big deal that he’s more of a big brother to Robin than I am. “Anyway, it’s great that you want to get to know Nick. He’s a good guy. I’m sure you’ll agree.”

  “I don’t remember asking your opinion.”

  Monty raises his dark eyebrows and smirks. “Still got the same old charm, huh Ted?” He slaps the wall and heads for the door. “Good night.”

  He leaves. What a douche.

  Never mind; now I can work on my second P.I. lesson. I power up my computer and log on. Luckily, today’s tutorial is on investigative observation skills. It quotes Sherlock Holmes, where he says an investigator should be seen but not observed. There’s no way Nick won’t observe me tomorrow, but I can at least let him drive the conversation. I also need to awaken that primal hunter within me, the one who doesn’t miss even the smallest details, because it could be a clue that will make or break the case.

  The next day Monty and I are crammed into one side of a wooden booth and a pale-faced Nick is on the other. Jack has been in and out, at times dealing with restaurant business but mostly sitting with us, like he’s doing now, casually cozied up to Nick as if they’re best buddies. “So you got to skype with Robin?” Jack asks Nick. “How did she seem? Isobel is worried about her.”

  “Why is Isobel worried about Robin? Do they even know each other?” I ask.

  Jack scrunches one side of his face at me. “They’ve been best friends since college. That’s how she and I met. Robin introduced us.”

  “Oh. I guess I miss a lot, not living in the area.”

  Nick wipes his brow even though it’s breezy in here. He looks like he has food poisoning, or maybe the plague. “Yeah, I know Robin wishes she saw you more.”

  I have to bite my lip not to laugh.

  “Anyway,” Nick throatily continues, “I only got to talk to Robin once and there was a production person standing off to the side the whole time, tapping her watch and giving us directions. Robin seemed. . .stressed. Honestly, I’m worried about her too.”

  “I wouldn’t be too concerned,” Monty says, tapping his fingers in that way I hate. “She’s pretty tough.”

  “Yeah, she is tough. But with everything that’s going on, you know, with the website and the, um. . .” he rocks slightly in place as his cheeks grow pink. “. . .the sex-tape. I think she feels powerless.”

  Monty sits up straight. “Sex-tape?”

  “You haven’t seen it.” Nick shakes his head. “Thank God.” Then the words spill out, like the vomit he must be holding back. “At first it was just this weird photo montage, you know, clips of her from TV and plays she’s done, but I checked the website again this morning and there’s. . .” Nick struggles to swallow as he hyperventilates through his nose. “Well, it’s of the two of us. I’m blocked out, but you can see a lot of Robin, and. . .” He lets his head drop into his hands. “That video is from the night before she left! I didn’t even know we were being filmed and I doubt she did either. Robin would never. . .” He raises his eyes, suddenly mortified by who his audience is. “I mean,” he stammers, “she’s just not like that. And I called the webhost but all I got was a load of bull. I have to do something! I promised Robin I’d take care of things while she’s gone, and now, I mean. . . I am so completely fucked!”

  There’s a moment of the most awkward silence ever, as we all squirm in our seats and wish the world would end. Nick takes a deep breath. “I meant that metaphorically, obviously. . .I am metaphorically fucked, because Robin is.. I mean, she’s obviously my number one concern, and. . .”

  “Can I see it?” Monty asks, and I swivel towards him as much as the cramped space will allow.

  “No you can’t see it!” I answer. “What the hell is wrong with you? Nobody should watch it! We need to get it taken down!”

  “Exactly!” Monty retorts, his cheeks flushing underneath his tan skin. “And I will write the scariest, most threatening legalese letter ever to the web hosts, or I’ll call them, but first, unfortunately, I need to see the video so I have something to base my threats on.”

  “Forget that! Go to the police!” I tell Nick.

  “I already have,” he tells me. “But the police just said they’d look into it. Meanwhile I can’t even trace who started the website which means I can’t contact the coward myself.”

  “I’m sorry Nick, but can I please see the video?” Monty asks again. Nick takes out his smartphone, calls up the website, and hands it over. While the video plays, Monty squints and holds the phone away from him, like it’s infectious. I try not to watch while Jack looks uncomfortable and winces at the sounds. After a few of seconds of grunts and groans, Monty mercifully presses stop.

  “It’s, um. . .” Monty’s fingers listles
sly go limp against the table. Even he can’t think of the appropriate thing to say in this situation. “It’s pretty dark. You’re, um, sure this is the two of you, in your bedroom?”

  “Yeah,” Nick replies. “Of course I’m sure.”

  “Well, you’re the expert!” Jack states jovially, but his words fall flat when no one cracks a smile. “You know,” he continues, “there are all sorts of stuff you can download now, programs like Spyware that will film you without your knowing about it.”

  “But who would have access to Robin’s computer to do such a thing?” Nick asks. “Can it be installed by hacking in from a remote site?”

  “You need to think outside the box,” I say. “Whoever’s doing this is very creative. We need to get creative too.”

  Monty scrolls the website down. “What’s this about her sending money to one of the judges on The Standout?” he asks.

  “What?” Nick urgently reaches for his phone and he holds it close, scanning a blurb and reading it aloud. “It has been confirmed that as a guarantee for her success on The Standout, Robin has transferred $40,000 into the account of judge Evie Messina.” Nick’s face is blank. “That’s crazy. Robin doesn’t have that kind of money.”

  “May I see it again?” Monty asks, reaching for the phone. “This is definitely slander,” he says after he’s taken a look. “We’ll have it taken down too.”

  “But what about the $40,000? What if someone accessed her bank account?” Nick looks to each of us, his eyes wide.

  “Can you log onto her account and see? Do you have her password?” Monty asks.

  “It’s written down at home.” Nick runs his hand through his hair, making it stick out in varied directions.

  “Don’t worry, Nick,” Monty says, in a lawyer-voice that I wish he would reserve for clients. “We can find out who’s doing this and we’ll make it stop.”

  Once again, Monty is trying to swoop in to save the day. But not this time. This time I’m going to be the hero.

  The lunch is strained after that and Nick isn’t in the mood for chit chat. He and Monty are anxious to contact the webhost and get the tape taken down, but personally, I’m more concerned with busting whoever is behind the tape so it can never be posted again. I decide that it’s definitely time to take this investigation to the next level. I tell Monty that I’m spending the evening over at Ian’s. Then I borrow Monty’s car and drive to Nick and Robin’s house.

  Nick had mentioned that he’s playing piano at some restaurant tonight so his place is dark when I get there. I get out of the car and stroll around to the back, careful not to trip over stray twigs or sprinkler systems. Their house is on a quiet street and it’s the smallest one on the block. I need to make sure that the next-door neighbors, with their expansive Ranch-style home, lit up windows, and the “We Watch, We Report,” yard sign don’t see me.

  So I stealthily move through the shadows. I don’t have a real plan; if I can’t get inside, I suppose I’ll just sort through their garbage or do some surveillance from Monty’s parked car. Once Nick gets back I’ll knock on the door and find a way to snoop while he’s home. But hot damn! There’s a spare key in the nozzle of their garden hose in the backyard. I’d bet my favorite tie that Robin was the one who hid it. We had a very similar hiding spot for our spare key at our childhood home.

  Their house is tiny. In the corner of the room, underneath the table that holds their mail, I see a file box. I crouch down, turn on my cell phone’s flashlight app, and start digging. This has to be Nick’s work because there’s no way Robin has suddenly become so organized. He has neatly labeled folders for everything: tax records, tuition bills, home equity, medical information, and on and on. The files aren’t alphabetized, which surprises me, but towards the back there’s actually a folder labeled “passwords.”

  Okay, so he’s organized, but not very bright. Hasn’t he ever heard of intruders?

  The file contains one sheet of paper, which I lay on the floor and I take a picture of with my phone. After I check to make sure that my flash worked well enough for the photo to be readable, I put the file box back as it was, and start going through their mail. Mostly it’s a lot of bills.

  I’m heading for what I think is the bedroom when I hear footsteps and voices. Suddenly my pulse is pounding in my ears. I dart out the back but I don’t have time to close the door all the way behind me. So I hug the side of the house, hoping I can creep back to the car before they notice the intrusion. Nervous sweat drips from my forehead as I struggle not to breathe too loud.

  “Thanks for dinner, Dad.” The voice is female, and only now do I remember that Nick’s younger sister lives here too. She flicks the lights on and I hear them walk inside.

  “It was my pleasure.” He sounds stiff and formal, like he’s trying too hard. “I’m glad we had our talk.”

  “Me too.”

  There have been no further footsteps, so I figure that the sister is still in the entryway, facing away from the backdoor, and the dad is focused on her so he hasn’t looked up yet. I should use this opportunity to make my get-away, but she says something that makes me stay and listen.

  “You understand why I’m so concerned about Nick?”

  “Of course,” he answers.

  “I really hope he knows what he’s doing.”

  “I know, Sweetheart. And you’ve had to make some difficult choices.”

  “Yeah, but—” she cuts herself off. “What is it, Dad?”

  “Did you leave your back door open?”

  Crap! I bolt, running across the yard and nearly slipping on the wet grass. But I make it to Monty’s fuel-efficient family sized vehicle, which is also my get-away car. I have no idea if they’ve seen me or not as I get in and drive off.

  Chapter 36

  The rest of my trip is uneventful; Monty is the big hero when he gets the sex tape taken down. So I’m anxious to get home, but when I do, Miles and Mason are at their baseball game, which Tina has taken them to. They don’t get home until late, and then it’s like they’d forgotten I was ever gone.

  A few days later, Tina is silent in the passenger seat as I drive us to the auto show gala. She’s barely spoken to me since I turned my back on her the night she was crying and I haven’t known what to say since. I glance at her while we’re stopped at a red light. Her dress is blue. The top is loose but the bottom is tight across her butt, and there’s a long slit that shows off her leg.

  “You look amazing,” I tell her. “Everyone will think I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

  She just huffs, crosses her arms over her chest, and turns toward the window, away from me. The light turns green but I don’t press my foot against the gas petal. We just sit, until the cars behind us honk.

  “Ted, what are you doing? Go!”

  I do, but I turn left instead of going straight, so we’re no longer headed in the right direction for the gala.

  “Ted, you’re going the wrong way! Have you gone crazy?”

  The squeal of the tires is my only answer as the car accelerates. I don’t even know where we’re headed, but I do know that we’ve been on the wrong path. Besides, some of my co-workers will be at the gala, which means Tina would for sure find out about my unpaid leave. That can’t happen, so I turn down random streets and alleys while Tina white knuckles the dashboard, too surprised at my behavior to protest.

  After a few minutes I see a Mexican restaurant, the type we used to eat at when we were in college. It looks small and dark, and I bet the menus all have salsa stains, and the margaritas come in huge, plastic glasses full of tequila and limeade, and all the food is covered in brown sauce and cheese. I pull up and park along the curb.

  “What the hell, Ted?”

  I unfasten my seat belt, so I can lean in and touch her bare arm. “Tina, let’s forget about the gala. Please, for one night, can’t we just talk like we used to? Remember when we used to get a little drunk and laugh at stupid jokes? Let’s do that again.”

  I bru
sh my fingers along her shoulder and by some miracle she doesn’t pull away. I can see her thinking. She’s blinking rapidly and biting the corner of her mouth, probably calculating how many calories are in a taquito.

  “Sugar, you’re so lovely.” I whisper, because all of a sudden I’m kind of choked up. “Please believe that.”

  Tina’s eyes wander for a moment but then she looks back at me, and the moment feels honest, like we’re naked in front of each other. “You stopped calling me ‘sugar’ about five years ago.”

  Is that true? Surely not, but I think back, trying to remember our moments of affection. There was a time when Tina was the only sweetness in my life, the only sweetness I’d ever really felt, and when I held her in my arms all I wanted was to protect her, to make her happy. But have I become so engrossed with losing myself that I’ve cut her off as well?

  “I’m sorry, Sugar. I guess I’ve just been distracted.”

  And then it’s like sun breaking through the clouds, because Tina smiles.

  Chapter 37

  Tina moans and tightens her grip around me, her nails digging into my back. I can taste the fiesta salad and Margarita she had earlier as I plunge my tongue through her lips. I kiss her with enough passion to make up for the all kissing we haven’t done for months. She’s like this little lightening rod. Her body has gotten so small; there are fewer soft spots than before, but I am so grateful to have her in my arms that joy is my one, overreaching emotion. The gala dress she so carefully put herself into is lying in a careless heap by my office chair and we’re actually on top of my desk. I’m taking her in the way you always see hot couples in movies do, the way I’ve always wished she’d someday agree to.

  After we’re done my body feels like warm, oozy lava. I collapse into my chair and Tina lunges for her dress to cover herself. It’s not that she doesn’t want me to see her naked, I decide, but that she’s worried somebody will walk in.