by Eva Charles
The touch was tender and loving. I almost dragged her into my lap and buried my face in her hair, begging to hold her until all the shit with Jake blew over.
“I’ve had better days… I assume you’ve heard about Jake.”
She nodded, her eyes soft, but serious. “I’m meeting with him later today.”
“He didn’t do it.”
She didn’t say anything. Nada. Not one word, grunt, or growl, signaling agreement. She didn’t even nod. Nothing.
“You don’t actually believe that woman, do you?”
“We each have our own roles here, Mark. My role is to be open to all sides—to be available to everyone who needs me. Especially the victim. Your role is to be Jake’s brother—his support system.”
“The victim? Well, that would be Jake.” I was seconds from blowing a gasket, and stood to walk off some of the pent-up energy. “And don’t tell me what my role is. You actually believe the bullshit she told the police?”
“Mark, I feel awful about this. Truly awful. For Jake, for you, your brothers, your whole family. No matter what happens, please believe that.” She twisted her fingers in her opposite hand. “But I have a job to do. And it’s not my job to believe or disbelieve anyone. I’m not a trier of fact. My role is to listen, and in this case, to be available to support the young woman when she emerges.”
I pivoted, and stood perfectly still, peering down at her while she wrung her hands. “She’s missing?”
Emmie paled. Her skin took on a grayish cast. “I assumed you knew. Mark, that’s confidential information. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Did you hear it from Sal?”
She tucked a few curls behind her ear, but didn’t say anything.
“Did. You. Hear. It. From. Sal? Did you?”
Her face twisted in agony. “I’m sorry, but I can’t answer that question. I already said too much.”
“Well, this is just fucking great. She makes a false complaint, stirs up a bunch of shit, and then disappears. Did they get a rape kit before she left?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure, or you won’t tell me?”
“I’m not sure.”
“She’s hiding because it’s all crap and she doesn’t want to be exposed for the liar she is. Only guilty people hide, Emmie.”
“She might be laying low because of all the publicity. It’s going to get ugly very soon. Or she might be scared. Some people will say Jake or the Hawks paid her off, and that’s why she disappeared.”
“And she might be lyin’. You do believe that’s in the realm of possibilities?”
Emmie gripped the arm of the chair, like she gripped the side of the pool while Teddy was in the water. “I know this is hard for you to wrap your head around, but it’s not my job to judge anyone. But if it were, I have so little information, at this stage, I think anything’s possible.”
The woman who I believed—no, who I was certain—would offer me solace and comfort was driving my blood pressure through the roof. I paced near the desk, trying to rein in my emotions. “I’m telling you, she’s a liar.” I emphasized the words by pounding on the desk.
Emmie seemed unfazed, and I wanted to shake some sense into her. “Someone needs to talk to the press, soon, and tell them she made the whole thing up. It’s not going to be under wraps for much longer. We need to get out in front of this.”
“You’re not asking me to mislead the press, are you?”
“No. I’m not asking you to mislead anyone. What part of he didn’t do it do you not understand?” The smoke was billowing out of my ears in toxic black puffs, large enough to choke a horse.
“Please lower your voice.”
My eyes met hers, locked in a battle of wills. I trusted her. How could I have been so wrong? How?
I brought my palms to my eyes, rubbing small circles to fortify myself. But the sharp knife of betrayal had already pierced the skin, and slid into my chest, half an inch from my heart. The sting was brutal.
She watched me drown in pain. The dark, murky poison filled my lungs, but she threw me nothing. Not her hand, not a life preserver, not a knotted rope—nothing that would have given me the slightest glimmer of hope for Jake. For us.
My fingers dug into the back of her desk chair, gouging the soft leather. Jake was my kid brother, and I would not go down without a fight. “Fine! I’ll fucking tell them myself.”
“Mark, you look like you’ve been up all night, and you’re not thinking straight. Jake’s your brother. You have no credibility on this subject. You should stay out of it, for his sake, and yours.” She pleaded gently, and somehow, a piece of me—a small piece of me—knew she had Jake’s best interests at heart, and mine. But the sting of betrayal was raw, the wound gaping wide, and I was still submerged and couldn’t see past my worry over Jake to show her even a small measure of kindness or understanding.
“Don’t tell me how to take care of my brother. You know exactly jackshit about it. You have no sense of loyalty. None. I thought I could trust you. But I was wrong.”
“My job isn’t to be loyal. That’s the whole point of having the SRT. Please try to understand the position I’m in.”
I heard the sorrow in her voice, saw it on her face, but I marched onward, full steam ahead, determined to do battle for my brother, regardless of how deep and bloody the scars.
“Is that what you were thinking when you spent the weekend with my family? Brought your kid to the pool. Let Jake teach him to swim. Is that what you were thinking—that you’d sell him out on the word of some…some woman we don’t know a damn thing about?”
Emily winced and gasped softly, once, maybe twice during my tirade. But at this point, I was fighting for Jake’s life, and I didn’t give a shit whose feelings were hurt. Not a single one. Hurt feelings could be mended—a twenty-to-life sentence couldn’t be.
“What kind of person are you, that you have no sense of loyalty? Were you raised by wolves? No, of course not, because wolves have a keen sense of loyalty. They instinctively protect their own.” Given everything she’d told me about her childhood, it was a low blow. The lowest of lows. And even then, still blinded by anger, I would have taken the last part back if I could have.
I stalked toward the door. Had to get out before I unleashed any more fury on her. “It was a set-up, Emily, and you damn well know it.”
I slammed the door so hard behind me the sound reverberated through the hall. People stuck their heads out of offices to see what all the racket was about. I kept my eyes forward all the way to the parking lot, resisting the urge to slam my fist through a pane of glass, so the pain would pull me back from the dark, ugly place where I was stuck.
I don’t remember the ride back to the office. None of it. It was unnerving. Not the damage I could have done to myself, but the damage I might have done to someone else.
When I pulled into the parking lot, my blood pressure began to creep up again. Reporters armed with cameras and microphones had invaded the place, taking up every available inch of real estate. I thought about turning around and driving away. But there was no way I was hiding, either.
As soon as I came into sight, they swarmed like maggots on day-old garbage left to rot in the sun. It was the perfect metaphor for how I felt.
I’d grown up in the public eye. We were big First Amendment supporters in my house. My father was a United States senator, and chaired some powerful committees. When he died, he was weeks away from announcing his candidacy for president. I understood why the public had a right to know everything about us. I understood why reporters were always in our business. I didn’t like it, but I understood, and even threw them a bone whenever I could.
But Jake wasn’t a presidential candidate. He was a football player, and I never understood why the public had a right to know every time he took a piss.
There are a couple guiding principles in public relations that even novices knew: You catch more flies with honey. It works with maggots,
too. And, if you stay ahead of the story, you can shape the narrative. If you give nothing, they’ll just make shit up.
“Mark! Mark!” They called to me as though I were their best friend. It sickened me. “Have you seen your brother?”
“Where’s Jake—hiding?”
“Is he off the team?”
“Are they suspending him?”
I gripped my briefcase tighter. “I’ve talked to Jake, but I haven’t seen him. He’s not hiding.” I stopped and glanced at my watch, in an obvious way. “He should be finishing a workout, about now.”
“What’s he say about all this?”
“Did he do it?”
I stopped again, and faced the reporter who asked the stupidest question yet. Did he actually expect me to say, yes, Jake did it. He raped her, and he’s selling drugs in the off-season. What a moron. That reporter was lucky my cousin Ella wasn’t here. Because when she was done womansplaining how that was such a stupid question, he would have been on his knees begging the gods to take his press credentials. The image made my shoulders a little lighter.
“Of course he didn’t do it. Most of you have covered him since he was in high school. Does it sound, at all, like something he’d do?” I gave it a few seconds to register. “He’s got a job to do. This is a huge distraction on what should be a promising season for the team.”
“Had he met the accuser prior to last night?”
“No.”
“Have you spoken with the accuser?”
“No. But if you find her, let me know. I’d love to ask her a few questions.”
“She’s missing?”
“That’s the word on the street. Just threw out a bunch of baseless accusations, then disappeared.”
“Are the Hawks suspending Jake?”
“I haven’t heard anything like that. And I doubt they’d suspend him based on unsubstantiated allegations from a marginal source. He’s been a leader since he got to the team, stellar on and off the field. You couldn’t ask for a better face for the franchise, or the league.”
“What about the Hawks’ representative to the SRT? What’s her position on this?”
“Emily Landon?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you spoken with her?”
“I have. She doesn’t believe the allegations against Jake, either.”
Emmie
I had the TV on in my office with the volume turned down, half-monitoring some of the day’s events. The cat was long out of the bag, and at this point every station was leading with the story.
My heart ached for Jake, and for the entire family. But especially for Mark, who was so close to all of it, yet helpless to do anything but stand by and watch the disaster unfold.
But my heart also went out to the young woman who had come forward with the allegations. Were they true? The more I learned, the less credible they seemed. Of course, I’d never utter those words out loud, to anyone. Not to a living soul. That wasn’t my job, and this was the first major issue to arise since I got here. I’d make damn sure Jake got a fair shake, but I’d also make sure the young woman was heard and that her allegations and trauma were taken seriously.
Credible or not, people didn’t normally level these kinds of serious accusations unless something was awry. Some were already arguing she was in it for money, but if that was the case, she would have gone to a lawyer and contacted Jake quietly. At least in the beginning.
This was not going to be an open-and-shut case. There would be layers of truth to uncover. It would take time and patience. Two things Mark Harrington was in short supply of today.
But I understood how someone could care so much about their siblings that they would behave like a jackass. Ranting and raving like…like a lunatic. Yes, I understood it quite well. It’s the only reason I didn’t ask Mark to leave, or call security, when he became totally unhinged. That, and I was sorry. Sorry he was going through this. Sorry I couldn’t help in a more concrete way. In the way he wanted me to help.
He looked so broken, with dark circles and washed-out eyes. They were dull and gray, not blue at all, and he was disheveled, as if he hadn’t bothered to shower, or run a comb through his hair.
I wanted to wrap myself around his big, muscular body, rest my head against his back, and reassure him it would all work out. I wanted to help him find the patience and faith he needed to survive the coming weeks and months. His words stung, some more than others, but I understood the pain. Understood it better than most people.
As I sat at my desk worrying about him, Mark Harrington appeared on the screen, surrounded by a gaggle of reporters as he made his way across the parking lot. Poor guy. This was the very last thing he needed. I turned up the volume on the television, just in time to hear a reporter ask about me.
“What about the Hawks’ representative to the SRT? What’s her position on this?”
“Emily Landon?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you spoken with her?”
“I have. She doesn’t believe the allegations against Jake, either.”
The air left my body in one big whoosh, forming a funnel-shaped cloud that picked up force as it swirled around the room. How could he do this to me? My legs were like jelly, gloopy and quivering. I wasn’t sure they’d support me if I stood.
I wanted to replay the snippet. Maybe I’d heard it wrong. Surely, I had.
He wouldn’t do something so awful. So malicious. Would he?
I never pegged Mark as someone who would stab me in the back. Sure, he’d bring a fierce fight to my face, but I never imagined he’d be underhanded or dirty.
And even more, my feelings were bruised. I thought…I thought he was interested in me. I didn’t imagine it. He said it. I want to ask you out on a real date. I want us to explore our friendship. Those were his words.
I won’t ask you out while you’re wearing your wedding ring. I want you to consider taking it off. Those were his words, too.
I actually toyed with the idea of taking off my wedding ring, of retiring it to its velvet box. I grappled with the small betrayal, imagined what I’d say to my motherin-law, tossed and turned an entire night, trying to work it all out. For what? For this? For a man who would twist my words—no—for a man who would lie. It was an outright, bold-face lie. One with consequences beyond my feelings. He put my job at risk. He put my son’s future at risk.
His behavior deserved more than a nasty text message. It deserved a full-on tongue-lashing. I would not let him off easy.
“How could you?”
“Emmie…”
“Don’t you dare call me that! You lied. You stood in front of the cameras and told a huge lie. Not an exaggeration, not a twisted truth, but a whopper. How could you do that to me!”
“I didn’t lie. I did speak to you, and I know you don’t believe any of those things about Jake.”
“I never said that. I didn’t say anything that remotely resembled that.”
“You didn’t need to. You know Jake. No one who knows him believes he forced himself on that woman.”
“Do you have any idea the position you me put in? Or how much trouble you’ve caused? Do you?”
The funnel cloud was circling the room, faster and faster, and right now, I didn’t care whether it leveled Mark Harrington. “I’m putting out a statement to contradict the story you told. I’m calling you for what you are—a big fat liar.”
“Go ahead. Deny it. Your word against mine. Who do you think they’ll believe? At best, it’s a toss-up.”
“In less than a minute, you ruined my reputation, destroyed my credibility, and all the groundwork I’ve laid in the last several months with the team, their wives and girlfriends, and the community. You ruined everything! Some player is going to go out and do something awful to a woman and she’s not going to come forward because you painted me like I’m a rubber stamp for the team. You led everyone to believe I wouldn’t even bother to wait for all the facts before I swept the whole tawdry mess under t
he rug.”
“You’re being a bit of a drama queen.”
“A drama queen? You screw up my life, and you think I’m being a drama queen? What about the little tantrum you threw in my office earlier? Didn’t see any drama in that?”
“He’s my brother. And he’s innocent. I know it, and you know it too.”
“So, it’s okay to say and do whatever you want, regardless of the damage it does to anyone else, because he’s your brother and you have some childish sense of loyalty.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say, except I’m sorry.”
“I don’t believe you’re sorry.”
Mark
Emmie hung up before I could say anything else, not that anything I would have had to say would have been anywhere near adequate. The childish sense of loyalty dig riled me, but she was right about one thing. I was willing to go to great lengths to protect Jake. And I had been pissed off at her earlier, and disappointed. More disappointed than I had a right to be.
But I never meant to hurt her. Of all people, I hadn’t meant to hurt her—not in this way. Not in any way.
The sense of relief I felt after talking to the press, telling Jake’s side of the story, was gone. The burning urge to do something useful, the shittiest feeling on earth, was back.
I betrayed her. I heard it in her shaky voice. I stepped in line right behind all the other assholes who had let her down.
The heavy, stale air made it difficult to breathe. I needed to get out of here. Patrick had already ripped me a new asshole for giving an impromptu press conference, and Jake had texted: FIX THIS. THEN KEEP YOUR FUCKING MOUTH SHUT. Jake wasn’t normally a shouty capitals kind of guy.
I was going home—not to my apartment in the Back Bay, but home to Meadows Shore, where I could run forever on the beach, and not cause any more trouble. I wasn’t hiding from the press or from anyone else. I was hiding from myself.
11
Mark
I ate dinner with my grandmother and aunts at their cottage, and soaked up a little unconditional love along with a steak and some homemade fried potatoes they knew I loved. After dinner, I went back to our house, a big, empty shell—like me—poured myself some bourbon, and sat at my dad’s desk.