Keeping Secrets in Seattle

by Brooke Moss

  “He was a judge,” she continued. “He was in his thirties, and had a family. Once the pageant was over, I never saw him again, and I’m so thankful for that. I don’t know what I would have done. I never considered how terrified you must have been to see Cameron at school.”

  I looked away. “It was sickening.”

  She leaned forward, her pearl necklace dangling precariously close to her plate. “When I went home to my mama after it happened, guess what she did to me? She said, ‘Pull yourself together. Don’t ruin that man’s family. Girls that look the way you look have to make allowances in life.’”

  I grimaced. “Sounds familiar.”

  My mom cut another bite of waffle but left it on her plate and just stared. “I guess I just thought this was the way you handled things like that.”

  “Why didn’t you want to turn the judge in?” I asked. “Didn’t you want him to pay for what he’d done?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Yes. I came home from rehearsal by myself that night. My mama was waiting in the hotel room for me, and she was angry because we were late for the banquet dinner. When I went into the room, she could see something was wrong. My cheek was swollen from where he hit me, and my dress was torn.

  “She started a shower for me and told me to get in. I did what my mother told me to do. And when I got out, I asked her when we were going to call the police. I remember being sad because it meant that I probably wouldn’t be able to participate in the pageant the next day.”

  Only Leandra Cohen would be recovering from being beaten and assaulted and still be concerned about the beauty contest she’d entered.

  My mom took a shaky sip of coffee and continued. “She showed me the pageant program, where there was a picture and a snippet about each judge. Under the picture of the judge who’d pulled me under the stage, there was a paragraph detailing his talent agency in Austin, and how his favorite pastime was to go windsurfing with his wife and three sons. She said we weren’t going to ruin that man’s life just because he couldn’t help himself around me. She gave me a Valium and told me to go to sleep. The next morning, she put pancake makeup on my bruised cheek, sent me down to the auditorium, and I won the whole pageant.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “By the time I went away to college and met your father, I’d pretty much gotten over it. Sure, I still got a little nervous when I was alone, and I carried a kitchen knife in my purse, but overall, I was okay.” She offered me a dainty smile.

  I gaped at her. “Mom, carrying a kitchen knife in your purse doesn’t constitute okay.”

  “Yes, but when your father and I got married and moved up here to Washington, I stopped thinking about it. Old news. Your father never even knew about it. When you came home that night, it all came back to me. The fear, the horror. I just wanted to help you pull yourself together. I handled it the same way my own mother handled it. She’d forced me to get over it, so…”

  “So you expected me to get over it, too?”

  My mom’s smile faltered. “I just assumed that we would clean you up, keep you home from school for a week or so until you felt better, and then you’d be back to normal.”

  “What was normal?” I glared at her. “Once I left Cameron’s house, there was no more normal in my life!”

  She flinched. “I didn’t know how to backtrack. I knew that if we called the police weeks and weeks later, that there would be no evidence left. Plus, I knew it would become something of a spectacle, and—”

  I looked my mom dead in the eye. “Heaven forbid we create a spectacle.”

  Her eyes filled. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t that I didn’t want people to know. You told me that you’d flirted with that boy. And that you led him on. The other kids saw you. I was trying to save you the pain of trying to prove your innocence to people.”

  “It made me sick to know that he was walking around free. To know that he got to keep going to Wallingford High like a normal kid while I got shipped off to Utah because I couldn’t function anymore.” I looked up at the ceiling when the tears came. I would not shed any more tears over this.

  My mom dabbed her napkin at the corners of her eyes again. “I didn’t want people to judge you. You couldn’t avoid the Parkers forever. They were asking questions and wanted to know where you were. Nora was on the case, and she would have hit the roof if she knew what really happened.”

  I sucked in a breath. “I wish we would have told them the truth.”

  My mother took hold of my hands across the table. “I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t important enough to fight for. I wish I could do it over again. I wish I would’ve picked up that phone and called the police myself. Had I known all of the pain that was going to stem from that one night, I would have handled everything differently. Everything.”

  “You have no idea what that means to me.” I squeezed her hand back. “I’m sorry, but I lost my appetite.”

  She looked at her plate. “Looks like we wasted some perfectly good waffles. Gabe would be disappointed.”

  “True.” My heart tugged at the mention of his name. I wondered where he was, or what he was doing.

  My mother patted her frosted hair helmet. “Can I give you a ride home, darlin’?”

  “What? Sure,” I answered, gazing out the window at the Parkers’ back deck. I searched the three people standing under the awning, out of the rain, for Gabe. He didn’t appear to be there.

  I sighed. I was headed there next to see if Nora and Guthrie had heard from him this week.

  My mom tilted her head to the side. “Did you hear from Gabe today?”

  Squinting across my mother’s lawn and the Parkers’, I shook my head. “No.”

  She stood up and began clearing the table. “Sounds like you two need to sit down and sort all of this out.”

  I nodded and leaned closer to the window, the hair on the back of my neck standing upright. I recognized Guthrie’s balding head as he stood laughing at something his wife had said, her long braids swaying as she gestured to their houseguest, whose blond hair remained gelled and unmoving in the breeze. Through the distance and closed windows I could scarcely hear the sound of their voices, but one person’s laughter stood out amongst the others.

  Watch where you’re going, Muffin Top. The cafeteria is that way.

  I’d heard that same maniacal laugh so many times during my teenage years, it haunted my dreams. His face came into focus through the wavy restored glass of my mother’s Victorian-era windows, and every last drop of blood in my body ran ice cold.

  I threw open the back door and charged halfway across the yard in the pouring rain before even giving a thought to what I would say when I walked into the Parkers’ yard. I could hear my mom calling my name behind me, but it was muffled like I was underwater. The only sound that came through loud and clear was my heartbeat.

  Cameron Hakes was standing on the Parkers’ back deck.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  July 2, 2004

  When Gabe dumped me, I missed the Parkers as much as I missed Gabe’s love. My mom is always worrying about how I look when we go out to dinner. Are people staring at my midnight-black hair and nose ring? Do her clients see the tattoo I’d gotten when I came into her office unannounced? The Parkers never cared what I looked like. Nora tells me I am beautiful even though I look like an emo nightmare on the outside…

  Guthrie’s, Nora’s, and Cameron’s conversation stopped as I approached. Cameron’s hooded eyes darted from my face to Gabe’s parents’. Clearly Nora and Guthrie knew nothing, as they just watched me with bemused expressions plastered on their faces, as if to say, That Violet! What a hoot!

  “Well, hi, Violet, I didn’t know you were coming to see your mom today.” Nora’s smile was wide.

  I didn’t answer her. Barely even heard her. Instead, I thundered up the steps to their porch, rain streaming down my face and back like tiny rivers, soaking my shirt.

  As soon as my feet hit the top step, I scr
eeched to a halt and gaped at Cameron. The ice in my veins, mixed with the pouring Seattle rain, chilled me right down into my bones. I started to shiver so violently I nearly toppled over. Cameron’s mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. Despite the southern California tan he was sporting, his face paled.

  “Violet, you remember Gabe’s old friend, Cameron. Don’t you?” Guthrie said.

  I wanted to say something scathing. To tell the Parkers that they were drinking coffee on their back porch with a sick, twisted rapist who deserved to be castrated, or at the very least, beaten into the deck floor, UFC style. But all of my words dried up like a puddle in the sun.

  Suddenly I was at a loss. I was like a scared little girl standing in front of a huge, grotesque monster. Another shiver racked my body, but it had less to do with the rain and more to do with my worst fears being revealed with nothing between us but a barbecue and an Adirondack chair.

  Nora furrowed her brow. “Cam, you remember Violet Murphy.”

  The paleness on Cameron’s cheeks dissipated, and his mouth pulled back into a knowing grin. He knew that he had the upper hand. I could practically smell his sense of victory. Nobody knew. I hadn’t told. The joke was on me. “Muffin Top. Long time, no see.”

  Guthrie’s head turned in his direction. “Muffin top?”

  Nora glared at Cameron.

  My mind whirled, though my eyes remained locked on Cameron’s. Where the hell was Gabe, and why hadn’t he canceled this visit? Oh, Lord, he wasn’t coming here to kill Cameron, then bury him in the backyard, was he?

  Cameron fidgeted under my heavy gaze. His hands went into, and came out of, his pockets two or three times, and he rocked back on his heels while smiling charmingly at the Parkers. My eyes didn’t move from his face, and I hoped that my stare burned like acid on his tanned temple.

  “Violet, are you all right?” Nora asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  My voice came out ragged and quiet. “Just a monster.”

  Her head jerked back the tiniest bit. “A mon—”

  “Is everything okay?” Guthrie put his coffee mug down on the wooden table under the awning and stepped out into the rain.

  “No, Nora. Everything isn’t okay.” My voice quavered.

  Cameron’s head snapped up. He shot a glare at me just at Guthrie glanced at him.

  “Is there a problem?” Guthrie asked in his mellow, former-hippie-turned-English-professor voice.

  Cameron reached for the sliding glass door. “Not sure,” he said quickly. “Excuse me, I’m gonna hit the head.”

  He hadn’t gained any class over the years. Cameron was the type that grabbed girls’ backsides so hard in the hallway between classes it left bruises and spit wads of phlegm in the drinking fountains at school. My mouth opened, and a thousand insults scrolled through my head like the billboards in Times Square, but not a word came out. I was apparently frozen and mute.

  Nora frowned. She’d probably forgotten how much of a pig Cameron was. “Of course. Do you remember where it is?”

  “Violet, are you all right?” Guthrie’s soft voice was almost drowned out by the rain.

  The sound of a car coming to a screeching halt around the house sounded, and the slam from inside the Parkers’ house when Gabe walked in was so loud that it rattled the windows. Everyone on the porch went silent. Cameron stopped with the door halfway open as Gabe became visible through the glass, lumbering through the house with his fists at his side. As he powered toward the door, his face contorted into a grimace so livid, he looked like a different person. Gabe’s shoulder bumped a picture frame as he whisked through the kitchen, and it fell to the floor and shattered. He didn’t even slow down.

  Nora reached to open the glass even further. “Gabriel, we were wondering—”

  “You and I are going to talk!” Gabe shouted. His finger was just inches from Cameron’s face.

  Cameron’s hands immediately went out, palms up. “Whoa. Dude. It’s nice to see you, too.”

  Gabe backed Cameron against the deck railing, their puffed-up chests flush.

  Guthrie put a hand on either of their shoulders, and his head went from left to right half a dozen times. “Calm down. What’s going on?”

  Through the corner of his eye, Gabe spotted me, and in an instant his expression flashed to concern. “Vi? Are you okay?”

  I finally found my voice, though it sounded like I was speaking while a vice clamped on my throat. “I’m fine.”

  Cameron’s beady eyes bounced between Gabe’s face and mine. “You’ve got the wrong idea.”

  Gabe grabbed his collar, jerking him up so they were eye to eye. Cameron scrambled on the tips of his toes, his arms going to the deck railing so that he didn’t fall backward. “Do I?” Gabe growled ferociously. “Do I, Cam?”

  “Someone had better explain to me what the problem is right now.” Nora was using her authoritative lawyer tone, which typically indicated that she was about to lose her cool.

  My vision tunneled, and all I saw was Gabe and Cameron, locked in some sort of pre-ass-kicking embrace. “I’ve got something to say.”

  “Dude. I’m out of here,” Cameron said. Sweat glistened along his hairline, and rain soaked the arm of his shirt that hung out from under the awning. “What is your problem, man?”

  Gabe jerked him by his collar, and Cameron slammed into the deck railing. It groaned under the force. “You’re my problem!”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Cameron’s voice was starting to sound panicked. Sure, he’d been a wrestling star in high school, but a career in journalism and four or five years behind a desk had made the difference between his, and Gabe’s six-foot-one frame, vast. He turned to Guthrie. “Get him off of me!”

  “Did you honestly think I’d never find out?” The tendons in Gabe’s neck were taut as he gave Cameron another shove. “That she’d never tell me?”

  The sound of Cam’s shoes shuffling on the wooden deck was almost as loud as the rain. He looked at me for the briefest of moments, and I saw an all-too-familiar rage covering his eyes like dark clouds. “That bitch is a liar.”

  “How could you have done that to her? I loved her.” Gabe pulled Cameron’s face so close that just a few centimeters separated them. Cameron’s toes were now barely touching the deck floor as Gabe exuded vehemence that practically dripped off him. The veins in his arms bulged as he worked to hold the struggling Cameron in place and fend off his father’s arm at the same time. “How many other women have you hurt? Huh? How many other girls did you lock in your bedroom in high school?”

  “I never hurt anyone!” Cameron’s face turned bright red, and his struggling increased. He swung a fist at Gabe’s face and clocked him in the lip. Gabe’s face turned, but his grip on Cameron’s shirt didn’t loosen. “She’s lying!”

  Nora gasped, and I seized the opportunity to squirm away. Anger swirled within me like the inside of a tornado, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Nine years was too long. I pulled my arm back, ready to punch Cameron in the face. “You rotten creep… you worthless bastard… Do you care what you put me through?” My voice broke. “You ruined my life…you ruined everything!”

  Guthrie yanked his arm out from in between the two enraged men and looped it around my waist. “Violet! Stop!” He held my hands down in my lap.

  Craning my neck so I could see his face, I yelled, “Let go of me right now!”

  He shook his head, his eyes as big as saucers. “Not until you calm down.”

  “What has gotten into everyone?” Nora bellowed, positioning herself in between me and Cameron. “What did he do?”

  “I was high! I was drunk!” Cameron shrieked, throwing another swing. “She came on to me, man! Everybody saw it! She was asking for it!”

  “He raped Violet,” Gabe snarled. Guthrie and Nora turned to face him, their jaws hanging open. “In high school. It happened the night we broke up.”

  Nora’s arms dropped, hanging limply at her sides. “That w
as what happened?”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but the sound of a fist hitting flesh cut me off. When I turned back to Gabe, Cameron was down on one knee, and his hands were scratching and clawing at Gabe’s midriff. Gabe’s fist slammed into Cameron’s face.

  Everything started to move in slow motion. Guthrie’s arms around my middle loosened. Nora held her head, watching. And the skin split underneath Cameron’s right eye as Gabe’s fist came down four…five…six times. Bright red blood, dots as small as the tip of a pen, splattered on Gabe’s white T-shirt.

  Then the slow motion effect wore off, and I found myself in the middle of a flurry of activity. Curtis and Guthrie hurtled forward to grab Gabe by his arms. Nora took Gabe’s face and told him in a trembling voice that he needed to stop before the neighbors called the police.

  All I could focus on was Cameron in a heap on the deck floor, a small trickle of blood running down his cheek. Not a sight in the world could have brought me so much pleasure. As hysterical as I was, adrenaline coursing through my veins like a flooded river, part of me wanted to sing “We Are The Champions” down at his rapidly swelling face.

  Gabe was pushed through the glass door, his jaw locked in place. The corner of his mouth was red and puffed out, and his pain-filled eyes met mine as his mother shut the door with a slam.

  “Gabe…” I reached for the door, but Cameron scrambled to his feet and grabbed my arm. Hard.

  “Who do you think you are, bringing this up now, Murphy?” he snarled. “Trying to ruin my life?”

  “You mean like you ruined mine?!” I growled, pulling away. “You don’t intimidate me anymore,” I said to him, the quaking in my voice melting away. With each syllable, I felt stronger. More sure. I’d been waiting for this for nine years. “You’re lucky I didn’t ruin your life nine years ago. You should have paid for what you did to me.”

  He pressed his lips together, and a nerve underneath his eye twitched. “I’m warning you, Muff—”

  I turned so that I was facing Cameron head on. “You’re warning me?” I gripped the door handle so tight it could have broken off in my hand. “Actually, Cameron, I’m warning you. Stay away from my family. Stay away from my friends. And don’t you ever touch another woman like that again, or I will testify against you in whatever court, whatever state. I will see to it that you’re thrown in jail until you rot. Do you understand me?”