The woman agrees. “Especially a minor. What was Senator Davis’ son thinking?”
I spin my head in their direction so fast I fear I may have whiplash. “What did you say?”
The man and woman turn to me. Their bodies lean away as their eyes wide n in confusion at this random girl who now has her hands on their table and is now waiting, feverishly, to see if she head them properly.
Their cell phones are in their hands as if they’re scrolling through some sort of new article.
The man answers first. “This musician sent a dick pic to a fourteen-year-old fan.”
I stomach drops. The taste of bile rises. Sending a photo of your privates to someone, unsolicited, is disgusting – much less to a fourteen-year-old girl. The feeling turns to dread as a morbid feeling cascades over me.
“You said Senator Davis?” the words come out in a confused stutter.
Another guy comes up behind me and motions his phone out to the man and woman. There’s an eagerness in this guy’s voice. “Another fan just came forward. She got the same photo. Said it came as a response to her fan mail.”
My hand rises to my head. I’m feeling clammy. I clench my stomach and try to calm the bubbling brewing beneath.
I look around at the faces of strangers. My hearts races. Sweat pours down my face. I’m having an odd sense of deja vu.
The man who I asked the question to finally answers. “Davis is a Senator from . . . Joe, where is he from?”
“Virginia,” I answer for him.
The guy seems satisfied with my answer. “His son is a musician. He had a hit song this year. That Die A Happy Man song. This moron sends a dick pic of himself to two fans and one is a minor. He just threw away his entire future.”
“Let me see it?” Someone else approaches the table. A woman. She looks over her friend’s shoulder at the photo on the screen. Her eyes and mouth widen. “Boy is packin’.”
She gives a high-five to another woman. Someone else adds, “I totally get why he’s sending pics of that thing around.”
“Anaconda,” a voice says.
“Dude, he fucking waxes,” another voice laughs.
“Is that a thing now?” A third chimes in.
A girl throws her hand up in the air. “Jax Davis. That’s his name. My blog has the story up and running. Apparently this guy’s a train wreck.”
They’re pointing, laughing ,staring at his body. My hearts races. Sweat pours down my face. I want to run, but my feet are numb. I’m tied to the table, yet there are no ropes. Invisible chains bind me. I try to move, but my body is paralyzed.
Jax is sending naked photos of himself to other women? There has to be some odd coincidence. There must be another Senator Davis. There has to be another song on the radio of the same title. There has to be a reason why I feel like I’m back in my dreams, stuck in my nightmares.
This time, I’m not the victim.
“There’s a third girl who says she got the photo!”
I run.
Without any further hesitation, I run to the service entrance and I don’t stop until I’m outside in the employee parking lot. I fumble with my keys as I jump into my car.
My hands are shaking. I can’t get the key into the ignition.
I can’t think.
I slam my head into the wheel and then, with a complete daze, I pull out my phone and Google his name.
It comes up on no fewer than twenty sites. Jackson Davis, the son of Virginia Senator Grant Davis, former guitarist of the band False Accusations, and song worker of the hit song “Die A Happy Man,” sent a picture of his private parts to a fourteen-year-old-girl in New Jersey last night. I know it’s only going to make matters worse, but I look on Google images, desperate to find an unblurred-out picture. I can’t find one, as all the sites are main sources. I should feel better, reassured by the fact I can’t confirm it’s him. Except, there is one thing about the photo that makes me squint my eyes and cry out in anger.
The white marble floors of the Pele suite and the sofa he is sitting on.
If I could, I’d cry. Instead, I drive off in search of answers.
I get to my apartment in a flash. I’m out of my car as soon as it’s in park and up through my apartment door in moments.
I rush into my bedroom to see Jax throwing his belongings in his suitcase. He’s violently launching items into the bags. His face is red and when his head looks up to see I’ve entered the room his eyes are wet and angry, and filled with disgust.
“How could you do this?” His voice is filled with loathing. Hs hair is standing on end like he’s been pulling on it.
I try to speak, but the accusation catches me off track.
His jaw is tight. He’s biting down so hard he may break teeth. And his eyes. Those once soft eyes are now stone like and rouge from the bitterness burning within.
He holds up his phone. “You planned this all along. From the moment I came here you’ve been plotting to do to me what I did to you.” His voice is eerily steady despite his shaking stance.
He grabs his guitar off the ground. He’s in such a rush to leave, he knocks into Olivia Benson, the little pig squealing and scurrying out of the way.
Everything is happening so fast it takes a moment o comprehend what he’s accusing me of. “You think I did his.”
“I know you wanted to get back at me, but a kid? Trish, you sent that to a fucking eighth grader. I’m being investigated. My father, who wouldn’t even visit me when I was lying in a fucking hospital, called me because his campaign is ruined.” Jax laughs. It’s sinister. “I should actually thank you for that. Give the middle finger to my father, too. Smart move.”
He barges out of the room and through the living room. I press my fingers to my temples in an attempt to figure out what the hell is happening here. He thinks I sent the pictures to his fans from his phone.
“Why the hell would I send those out?” I shout and he turns around momentarily. He starts to speak but I hold my arms up in the air. “Shut the hell up and listen to me. I didn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that. I am so unbelievable hurt you would think I could do that.”
His arms fall. His hands are still clutching onto his bags as he looks away and bites back the tears that are filling his eyes. They’re enraged tears that are desperately trying not to be shed.
He bites his lip with a quivering grip of his upper lip. “To think it’s all my fault. I have you the collateral.” He opens the door so hard it slams against the wall. “You won. You finally did the one thing to even the score. The victim has become the villain.”
He thrusts himself out the door. His guitar case and duffle nag hit the side of the walls as he leaves and walks down to a waiting car in the parking lot.
“Don’t follow him.” The voice comes from behind. I turn to Kelli who is standing in her bedroom doorway. Her hair is a matted mess and her eyes are smeared in black mascara. She looks like she’s been up all night.
“Do I even want to know?” I swallow down the lump in my throat.
“Like he said. We evened the score.”
I turn around. “Oh, Kelly, no. No, no, no. I told you I didn’t want revenge. I was happy. We were happy.”
She snaps her fingers as if to pull me out of a daze. “He was very quick to blame. If he loved you he wouldn’t have thought you’d be able to do such a heinous thing.” There’s a sinister look in her stare and it’s frightening. “He’s a runner, Trish. Something goes wrong and that man is out the door faster than you can say, ‘Jack—’” Her mouth is open as she freezes. After a beat she relaxes her body and shrugs.
“He’s in trouble.” My voice is stern.
“So were you and you were just a kid. He’s a grown ass man.”
I start to pace the room. The logistics of this whole thing are overwhelming. I just don’t understand, “How did you get a picture.”
She narrows her eyes and laughs. “It was in his text messages.”
I move my arms about as if tr
ying to grasp onto any semblance of reality and wake myself up from this dream. “How did you even get into his phone?”
“It’s your birthday.” She rolls her eyes.
My feet are burning the carpet. I don’t know why I’m here when I should be going after him. I run into my room and Olivia Benson. He must sense our need to get out of here because he runs into my arms.
“Goodbye Kelli.” I walk straight through the room and open the front door.
“Where are you going. Will you bring back beer? We’re out.”
I slam the door. I’m never going back.
chapter TWENTY FIVE
“Still no word?” Ali’i rubs my back as she places a cup of tea on the table.
My head is resting in my palm while other supports the weight of my body on the table.
I left my apartment last night and went straight to the airport. Jax wasn’t there and they wouldn’t let me through the gate without a ticket. Since I left my house without my bag, I couldn't even buy one.
Nowhere else to go, I came straight to Auli’i and Lani’s house. Kal and Benji packed my things so I didn’t have to see Kelli. Benji said he got her back good and I don’t even want to think about what kind of heinous thing he did to her toothbrush or underwear drawer or whatever he did. The less I know, the better.
I’ve been friends with Kelli for so long, I have a void in my gut. Sure, I should have seen her friendship for what it was: superficial. She likes my victim status because it elevated her self-righteous decisions. I just don't understand why I had to be the martyr. Or better yet, Jackson had to suffer.
His story has been on all of the major websites and entertainment programs. Seeing his reputation smeared across the screen is everything I was avoiding years ago. Watching it happen to him feels ten thousand times worse.
He was right. The villain has become the victim.
Except it wasn’t me, and while a huge part of me is sad, I’m also incredibly bitter. How could he believe I did it? He didn’t give me a chance to explain. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t care.
Lani found an image online that wasn’t blurred out. It’s not the best of pictures, but its lewd and indecent.
And for Jax it must be incredibly embarrassing.
“I’ve been calling nonstop.” I raise my head to Auli’i as she takes a seat next to me at the kitchen table.
She sighs, placing her hand under my chin to lift my face in appraisal. “You have not slept. It’s not healthy to treat your body this way.”
“How can I? “ I know I look pale and my insides feel hollow. Still, I can’t just sit here any longer. I stand and look around the room, getting my bearings on where I put my stuff. Mainly, my purse. “I have to get to work.”
“You can call in sick. Lani is already at the hotel handling everything for you.”
Lani is more than capable of handing my job. I just can’t sit still any longer. Just the thought of the hotel and my current guests, Alexander Asher and Noah Kanë, have me fidgeting with my keys. My purse was on the kitchen counter. “I’m antsy. I need to keep myself busy.”
Auli’i runs her hands along the palm leaf able cloth. Her kind eyes smile as she stands and motions toward the door. “Yes. The soul needs to keep moving. Come, I’ll walk you to your car.”
My car is in the front. While I want to run to it, I keep the painfully slow pace that Auli’i travels at out of a sign of respect. Although this morning she seems to be extra slow. We walk down the front steps in an unhurried pace and then stroll casually to the car, taking the longest route possible past a row of shrubs.
Her eyes close as she inhales a pink flower growing. Looking up into the su, she lets the heat radiate through her as if finding peace in nature.
“This is the Aloha rose,” she plucks a rose from the tree.
I take it, tentatively. “I thought it was bad luck to pick flowers?” I ask.
“Roses are meant to be shared.” She lifts her palm in the air as if to tell me to take a wiff. I really don’t have time for this, but I appease her. Bringing the rose to my nose I inhale the sweet fragrance. It’s mildly soothing.
“The pink cottage rose is the only nonnative plant to be a recognized as an official flower of the Hawaiian island. It’s pretty, right?”
I nod my head and inhale again. It feels like an off time for a lesson on horticulture.
“It thrives here on the island but it’s roots lie elsewhere.” She has a twinkle in her eye. Her wisdomly nature shining through.
“So you’re saying I should leave?”
“No. My dear. Hawaii is in your heart.” She leans forward and places a hand on my heart. He soft skin is cool, yet my skin warms under her touch. “You’re here whether you like it or not.” Her hand moves higher to my clavicle and the gold rose I wear around my neck. “You’re also there.”
I feel as if a thousand hours of tension have escaped my body. What’s left is a pile of mush.
“I did everything I could to get away from my past. I don’t want it to be a part of me anymore.”
She lowers his hand to grab my hands – one in each. There’s an energy pouring through her that makes me feel as if fifteen hundred years of strength is being passed on through her bones.
“You are your roots. They are what make you strong.”
I nod in understanding. While I can’t dwell on the past, they are a part of my history. I stand strong on the joy and the pain of the past to build into a greater woman. “He thinks I wronged him. How do I get him to forgive me?”
She taps my nose. “Ah, you already know the answer.”
Repentance. Forgiveness. Gratitude. Love.
Jax came to repent for his sins and I forgave him. He released me from my fears and I am eternally grateful. The bond brought a love stronger than any scandal can destroy.
What I never did was forgive myself.
“You need to restore your own harmony. If you heal yourself, you can heal the world.”
…
Lani is surprised to see me as I burst into the Kauai Princes with a determined walk and my hand gripping my chest with the rose clenched in my fist. I give her a wave as I walk straight through the lobby and out the back.
The concert is over so the media elite are heading home today. Hopefully there’s someone who decided to stay behind.
The loungers by the pool have familiar faces, but not the one I want to see. It’s in the Birds of Paradise restaurant that I find her. She has severely straight, blonde hair and too short bangs. She’s seated with another woman and looking over a menu.
Kal is walking passed me, but stops as if he can see something determined in my stare. Even Isaiah halts from making the drink he has on the bar. They watch as I make my to my destination.
I stop at her table and hover. She jolts at the sight of a random stranger standing at her side, quite possibly wondering if I’m a fan or crazy or what.
“Cara Scott from Rolling Stone magazine?”
She blinks up at me. Her head tilted in interest.
“My name is Trish Hogan and I have a story for you.”
JACKSON
2000
“Do you believe in soulmates?” I asked.
She looked up at me with eyes full of hope, and uttered a phrase I would repeat in my dreams for the next ten years. “I believe that love involves a totality where you are united physically and spiritually, creating one heart and soul.
I was always connected to Triciana Hogan. Our souls united when we were young, and no matter what we did over the years we were apart, it doesn’t change the bond we share.
For nine years I dreamt of her. Sweet moments we shared, repeated in my brain. I’d wake up in the middle of the night calling out her name, no in fear, but of longing. I needed her. The one person I failed. I needed her.
Home. Stink. Lawyers, record deal. Vivian. Ella. Phone call
2000
Goes to trish’s house. Dad decks him. Offers him a hand. She’s
in the back with the pig.
Imagine my surprise when I get a cal from Cara White from Rolling Stone mgainze asking me to verify the details of a story. It’s a gripping one – you may have heard of it.
A girl at the young age of sixteen gives her heart and soul to her boydfrined. A There’s a twist. The
Fast forward years later. The two reunite in Hawaii.
That’s right. Trish took the onis for everything. More than tat, she outed herself as a girl who has a sex tape flowting on the internet.
What astounds m is not just that she cam eforward to save me. She sparked a cnoevrsation among young women who have been victimized.
My little Diane Sawyer finally got her story.
True Abandon Page 27