by Ward, Deena
She pushed the button and asked in a firm voice, “Who is it?”
The reply was, “I thought I’d pushed the button for Nonnie Crawford. My name is Gibson Reeves.”
Oh my God. Gibson. He couldn’t be here, not right now. I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t. But my voice wasn’t working properly, and I didn’t get the chance to tell Elaine to invent an excuse.
Elaine said, “Oh, Gibson. It’s Elaine Hoyte. Come on up.”
And she buzzed him in.
“No, I can’t ...” I began.
Elaine turned and cut me off. “Yes, you can. He needs to know about this. He can help you. Michael’s his family after all.”
“Oh God,” was all I could say, and I paced the living room a few times before dropping onto the sofa.
Elaine opened the door and stood in the doorway, making it apparent that she wasn’t going to let me out of seeing him.
And then she was saying hello, and Gibson, tall, proud and handsome Gibson, was walking into my living room. He started when he spotted me.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “You don’t look well. I called to tell you I got back early, but when you didn’t answer your phone, I called your office. They said you were sick, had gone home. What’s wrong?”
If only I hadn’t sent his call to voicemail. If I had answered, I could have put him off, and would have another day or two of grace before I had to destroy everything.
I answered, “I’m okay.”
He came over and sat down while unbuttoning his suit coat. He reached out and touched my forehead. “You’re pale. Have you taken your temperature?”
“I’m not sick. It’s ...”
The sound of a phone chiming interrupted me. It was Elaine’s phone. She glanced at her screen.
She looked at me. “It’s Ron. I’ll be in the bedroom, if you need me.”
She nodded at Gibson then headed into my bedroom, softly closing the door behind her.
Gibson studied me. “You say you’re not sick, but you don’t look well. Has something happened? Tell me what’s wrong, Nonnie.”
His dark eyes were full of concern and he was so close, and the fact that he cared about my well-being was both comfort and torture. My eyes began to burn.
He reached out and took my fisted hand in his larger, cool one. “What’s wrong?”
His sympathy was too much for me.
I tried to fight down the welling in my chest, the irrepressible need for his solace. I swallowed hard. Fought hard.
He was clearly surprised, and laid a hand on my shoulder. “My God, has someone ...”
I shook my head. “I can’t ...” But I couldn’t finish. Could only try to breathe, fight the urge to sob.
He stroked my arm, and watched me with such worry that it only made me want to cry all the more. Even in my misery, I cherished the feel of his hands on me. Or perhaps my misery made me cherish him all the more, fearing that this would be the last time he would touch me.
He told me more than once that whatever was wrong, it would be okay. When the worst of it finally passed, and I had myself under a modicum of control, he said, his voice low and calm, “Can you tell me what’s wrong now?”
I nodded. I had to tell him, didn’t I? He would find out eventually. Better it came from me.
From the corner of my eye I watched him loosen his tie and undo the top buttons of his shirt. “Tell me what’s happened.”
I took a deep breath, clasped my hands in my lap, stared at his knee. I said, “It’s about Michael.”
He instantly stilled. “Michael Weston,” he said.
I nodded, and I began the tale.
I started slowly, struggling for each word. Soon enough, I picked up speed, adrenaline returning to my system as I relived the day’s events. When I told him about the video itself, I glossed over the details, only saying that I didn’t know I was being filmed that night and that Michael had tricked me into believing he was the only one present.
Gibson’s face changed as I spoke. He grew increasingly unreadable, his enigmatic mask materializing over his features, slowly closing him off from me. He didn’t speak, not once.
The physical distance between us was unchanged. We were still sitting side by side, almost touching, but that small gap seemed to grow to canyon-size by the time I reached the end of my story. And the more distant he became, the more frenetic I grew.
This was the worst possible outcome, I knew. Could see it all over him, or more to the point, couldn’t see anything at all, and that was how I knew this was the worst. I could hardly sit still. Desperately needed to move.
I finished in a rush. “He told me to call him and then he left. I don’t know what to think anymore. Is he crazy? He’s your cousin. What do you think?”
Gibson’s jaw twitched. He shook his head, a minute shake from one side to the other.
I said, “He’s ruined me. I have no job. No prospects. With that video out there, I can’t ever be sure of anything.”
I leapt up, paced around the room, giving in to my need to release my adrenaline-fueled energy. “I was an idiot. I trusted him. What was I thinking?”
I looked at the stoic figure on the sofa. “He said I was one of many. If I’d known, I would never have been with him. How could he have secretly recorded so many women without anyone knowing it? How is that possible?”
Gibson’s face was stony. “He preys on the innocent.”
“Right. Except I’m not innocent.”
“Innocent enough.”
My shoulders slumped. “Yes. I suppose. Or stupid enough.”
I tried to steady myself, then said, “And now I’ve lost everything. My job. My reputation. I have no way to force him to take down the video. I can’t sue him, even if I could afford a lawyer. I believe him when he says he’ll drag me through the tabloids. I’ve got no way to stop him.”
Gibson’s voice was steady, but removed. “Sit down, Nonnie.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to move. I’ve got to think of something.”
“No you don’t. I’ll handle it.”
“You can’t. He won’t listen to you. He hates you.”
He said, “Sit down. I will take care of this.”
The commanding nature of his voice worked some magic on me. I obeyed him, perched, unnerved and jumpy, on the edge of a chair.
He stood up as soon as I sat down. “Where are the DVDs?”
I pointed to my dining table. “Gibson, I’m afraid of you getting involved. Afraid it will make it worse. I didn’t want to say it but, this wasn’t just about me and Michael. He won’t admit it, but it was me being with you, I think, that set him off.”
He was at the table, pulling a disk out of the manilla envelope. “You think it. But I have no doubt that is precisely what set him off.”
He turned to me. I searched his features, looking for anything to tell me what he was feeling. He was so ... blank.
He said, “I’ll need one of these disks.”
He took a few steps toward my bedroom, knocked sharply on the door a few times. Elaine opened the door.
“I’ve got to go,” he said. “Were you planning on ...”
Elaine interrupted, “We’ll stay with her. Ron’s on his way right now.”
He said, “Good,” then he turned and walked toward me.
I stood up when he was near me. Any sign. I wanted any sign from him that I was more than an obligation.
I thought I was going to get it when he lifted a hand, thought he was going to touch me. But he didn’t. He buttoned his jacket instead.
He said, “I can’t tell you how much I regret that this has happened. I know it’s hard, but try to calm yourself. I promise you that I will do everything in my power to fix this.”
I swallowed hard. Nodded mutely.
He headed to the door, Elaine trailing behind him. When he was standing in the doorway, he turned to her and asked, “Have you had any contact with Michael?”
“No, he won’t answer my
calls. Or Ron’s.”
“If he contacts any of you, or he returns here, call me immediately. You still have my cell number?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Thank you.”
He gave me one last, unreadable glance, then turned and was gone without another word to her ... or me.
Elaine closed the door then said, “There, that’s a good man to have on your side. If anyone can take care of this, it’s him.”
“I don’t know. He may be exactly the wrong person for it. Michael really, really hates him.”
She shrugged. “I bet the feeling’s mutual. It’s okay, Nonnie. Between all of us, we’ll figure it out.”
I almost wished everyone would quit telling me that. Didn’t they see how bad this was? How impossible to fix? I didn’t say that, though, realizing Elaine was just trying to make me feel better. Not her fault that I was losing my mind. Not her fault that I had lost everything, Gibson included.
Ron arrived not long after Gibson departed. I welcomed his booming presence and his thunderous rant.
He gave me a quick hug then went on a tear. “That son of a bitch. Bastard won’t return my calls. I sent Joe over to his place to see if he’s home, but if he is, he’s not letting anyone up.”
Elaine and I sat on the couch.
She said in an aside, “Joe is Ron’s assistant.”
We watched the big man march around the room.
Ron said, “He’s lying low, that’s what. Sorry bastard. A real tough guy with the little girls, but I call him out and he goes running like the coward he is. He’s through in this town, if I have anything to say about it.”
Something about his furious ranting was calming me, soothing some of my frayed nerves, his outrage a consolation.
He ran a hand through his already ruffled brown hair. “Don’t know what the hell he thought he was doing. If I get my hands on him, so help me God, I will rip off his ...”
Elaine interjected, “We get it, Ron,” then she made a motion with her head toward me.
Ron looked at me, then deflated some. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I got worked up.”
I said, “It’s okay. I actually feel a little better.”
He smiled, looking like a friendly bear with his thick beard and barrel chest. “It’s going to be okay. Don’t you worry about it. That son of a bitch is going to ...”
“Okay, we know,” interrupted Elaine again.
“Right, well, anyway,” he meandered over to a chair and flopped down, alarming me for a moment that his bulk might shatter my cheap furniture. Not that I cared about the furniture. I just didn’t want the man who had so vehemently defended me finding himself on the floor because I couldn’t afford better stuff.
And I was unlikely to ever be able to afford better stuff, I thought, my mood plummeting again. I didn’t have a job anymore. I tried to stiffen my resolve, but I didn’t have much strength left in me.
I said, “I’ve got to make a call. I have to resign my job. It’ll only take a minute. Please, get something to drink, or if you’re hungry, see if you can find something in the kitchen. I’ll be back.”
They nodded solemnly then I found my phone and went to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. I called Isabel.
“Hi,” I said when she answered. “Just wanted to let you know that I’ve decided to resign.”
“I’m glad. That’s the best thing. You’ll be back here in no time,” she said, her demeanor crisp and efficient, her usual self.
“Yes, well ... I need to know ... do you know if anyone else, other than you and Frank Linton, if anyone else watched those DVDs?”
She hesitated, then said, “I’m not sure. Only Tracy Souter had opened the package, and he said he didn’t have a chance to watch it before I came in, but ...”
“Yeah, but.” Tracy Souter. Head of Marketing. Huge gossip. I shuddered at the thought of him watching me on that video. “Don’t protect me, Isabel. Does everybody know? Is it all over the office about me?”
“I’ve noticed some whispering. I don’t know for sure.”
I knew for sure. I remembered how Stephanie didn’t speak to me when I left the office. Stephanie always spoke to me; she spoke to everyone, couldn’t keep her mouth shut. She had probably heard about the video before I did. Heard it at lunch, perhaps, gossiping with co-workers. Undoubtedly.
I suddenly felt very, very tired. I slumped onto the edge of my bed. “I can’t come back, Isabel. Not ever.”
“You don’t know that. Not yet.”
“I do. I feel it.”
She said, “Hold on a minute.”
I waited, wondering what she might be doing, imagining the chain of events when Tracy opened that package and saw the DVD. He wouldn’t have been able to resist it, and he had easy access to a television and a DVD player in his department.
At least he didn’t have the disk anymore, so he couldn’t show it to anyone else. But what if he wrote down the Web site address and the access code on the label before Isabel confiscated the DVD? If he did, everyone in the office would be able to watch the video.
I thought I might be sick again, not that there was anything left in my stomach for me to throw up.
No, I told myself. Who would have thought to write down the Web site address? He surely couldn’t have visited the site on one of the company computers since I was certain porn sites were blocked. He would have a smart phone, though. Could he have looked it up on that? He wouldn’t need to write the address down, then, since the address would be stored in the browser history.
My head pounded from the crazed speculation.
Isabel came back on the line. “I spoke to Geary. Made him tell me if he’d heard any rumors today.” She paused, then said, “I’m sorry, Nonnie.”
It was like a knife in my gut. Confirmation of what I already knew. I said, “You tried. Thank you for that.”
“You can still come back. It’s only rumors.”
“They don’t need the DVD. They can find the video online.”
She blew out a long breath. “I’d like to think they wouldn’t, even if they could. We’ll wait it out. It will blow over.”
I knew it wouldn’t. I could never work with those people again. It was impossible.
I said, “I want to thank you for being my mentor, Isabel. You’ve meant so much to me, and standing by me like this when I’ve disappointed ... I can’t say how much ...” my voice broke. I couldn’t finish.
“You haven’t disappointed me, Nonnie Crawford,” she said briskly. “It’s not possible. You’re a good girl and it’s been a pleasure working with you and ...” then her voice broke, too.
She cleared her throat. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. We’ll see how this plays out. I’ll keep your job open.”
I knew better than to argue with her; she wouldn’t bend. So I said, “Thank you.”
She told me she’d messenger my things to me, then reminded me to call her if I needed any help with bills while I was waiting. I told her I wouldn’t forget, all the while knowing I would never ask her for a handout.
We said goodbye to each other. And I wondered if I’d ever see her again.
When I returned to the living room, Ron and Elaine gave me silent looks that asked how it went. I shrugged. It went. I didn’t want to talk about it, and they didn’t push me.
I sat down, feeling at loose ends. What next? Sit here and wait for the end? What was the end? I had no idea what I should do next.
Ron said, “Well, why don’t you girls go get packed up and we’ll head out.”
I gave him a questioning look.
He said, “You’re coming home with Lainey and me. It’s all settled.”
I shook my head. “No, I can’t put you out like that. There’s no reason to ...”
Ron’s thick brows drew together. “You can’t stay here alone, not with that asshole still on the loose.” His face relaxed. “And darlin’, there’s no way I could sleep on that little couch of yours. My feet’d hang off th
e end, or my head one. I’m too old for that. You’ll just have to come on home with us.”
Elaine said, all earnestness, “We’ve got plenty of room, more than plenty. And the kids are off at college, so you won’t have them buggin’ you. We’ll get you set up in one of the spare rooms.”
I looked from one to the other. Their faces were both kind and firm. They wouldn’t accept a refusal. And truth to tell, I didn’t actually want to tell them no, only felt that I should.
I didn’t want to be alone. I was tired, and scared, unsure of everything. An emotional wreck. That these two people wanted to take me in was far more than I felt I deserved. My vision blurred, but I blinked back the tears.
I nodded, and managed to say, “Thank you. I’d like that.”
And then they gifted me with smiles, pleased that I accepted.
It didn’t take long to pack up my things, not with Elaine’s bustling help. I was unsure how long I’d be gone, what all I might need, but Elaine sorted that out, telling me that whatever I forgot, she was sure they had, or could get for me.
Ron hauled everything down to his truck, so I didn’t even have to heft around my own luggage. At the last minute, I remembered Isabel was sending a messenger, so I texted her and asked her to send my things to the Hoytes’ address.
I stuffed the DVDs, including the one from my player, into my laptop case. Ron and Elaine waited in the hall while I took a last look over the apartment, checking for what I might have missed.
I stood in the open doorway and had a flash of the first time Michael came to my apartment. I had been so nervous, and he had teased me about my pants. I remembered that he hadn’t been there five minutes before he told me that I belonged to him, that I had given myself to him.
And I remembered how, less than two weeks later when I dumped him, I believed I reclaimed myself. Believed I belonged to me again.
I hadn’t known Michael had already stolen everything, that there was nothing left to reclaim.
Nothing left of me.
Chapter 19
Elaine convinced me to take a nap once we put all of my things away in the lovely room they provided for me, but I couldn’t sleep. I was worn out and keyed up at the same time, unable to stay put in one place for long.