by T Gephart
Things were great.
Better than they’d ever been.
We’d even survived our babysitting disaster. The night proved to be more of a challenge than either of us had thought. Lesson learned, put the cookies on a higher shelf next time.
He’d been so incredibly sweet with Zack though, and that just made my heart squeeze a little bit more.
Max was recording most days, Black Addiction was anxious to get back into the studio and work on the new album. They pulled long erratic hours, the whole process exhausting but necessary if they were going to put out another album before the end of the year. Angie was also pregnant, which complicated things a little, the timing of their album release important if she was going to be able to promote it before her next baby was born.
Monday to Friday I had class, so while I missed him, the days didn’t seem so bad. We’d call during breaks though, flirty messages—anything to keep the connection. And even though both of us were tired, we were making it work. The last few weeks had been the best of my life and I’d take sleep-deprived and deliriously happy over rested and baseline mediocre.
The nights were the best.
I would sneak up to his apartment—he’d given me a spare key—and wait for him to come home. Sometimes I’d attempt to make dinner, or he’d pick something up on the way but they always ended the same way. Me with him in bed. It didn’t matter how tired he was or how early he had to get up the next day. And if I happened to fall asleep in my own bed, I’d be woken up by a text message and Max Reynolds at my door. Being apart was something Max wouldn’t accept.
It was a good system. It meant he was both the last and the first thing I saw every day.
I loved it.
I loved him.
And I couldn’t be happier if I’d tried.
The undercover gigs had been sidelined having fulfilled their purpose. Besides, most people had clued up so the last couple had needed extra security just to deal with the extra crowd. But occasionally I got to see my own private show. Max happy to pull out a guitar and go through some of the new material while I laid in bed, his bass being benched for a six-string guitar on those rare times. My eyes would close listening to him sing, and I felt every single note he played.
Those words we’d avoided for so long—I love you—we said them as much as we could. We were that couple you hated, the ones who’s loved-up displays made you want to puke. But I didn’t care, and had no plans to stop.
The press attention was a little harder to deal with. It wasn’t unexpected but you were never really ready for it until an extra-long zoom lens was pointed at your ass. Thankfully Max had an indoor gym, which meant my ass didn’t look too bad. It also solved the problem of traveling to my new gym that unfortunately was further away than my old one, the one I needed to replace because of the micro penis debacle.
I hated the intrusion. When we dated before Max hadn’t been famous, so I’d never had to worry about whether someone was going to rifle through my garbage. Or checking to make sure when I left the apartment I was photo ready. Sure, I could have easily just slummed it, let the photographers have a field day with photos of me in sweats, but I hated knowing those photographs would be out there forever. A quick makeup application was a small price to pay.
It seemed everything we—and therefore by virtue, I—did was newsworthy. Even my school had been getting some attention, with reporters itching to get the inside scoop. It had been a great disappointment that I wasn’t A: a groupie or B: a gold digger, so I’m sure they were hoping that at the very least they could uncover something halfway decent. If they were looking for dirt—they’d be waiting awhile. I had nothing.
“Beth, can you see me in my office?”
It was rare for Mr. Ryan James to make an appearance at my classroom. Even rarer for him to request a meeting with me at his office, our principal a little old school in his approach, believing very much in the chain of command. If things were escalated up to him it could only mean bad things, which is why when he knocked on my door at four in the afternoon, I knew it spelled trouble.
“Sure, I’m just finishing the planning for tomorrow.” I looked up from my desk, hopefully not with the fear I was feeling radiating from my eyeballs. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”
Not good.
This was soooooo not good.
It would have been smart to wait until after our conversation before I started freaking out but of course, I wasn’t smart. Instead I was running through every possible scenario on what could warrant an audience with the big dog. Max and my newfound celebrity status, being the most obvious.
As I’d mentioned before, the school was no stranger to celebrity or what came with it. Photographers were often stalled by the huge black gates that lined the perimeter of the school and all faculty were well rehearsed with the typical “no comment,” should a reporter come knocking.
Not that any of the parents had complained. A couple even congratulated me, giving me a nod of approval. Our public appearances were documented with glossy photographic evidence to match so there had been no point denying it.
But with my personal evaluations having always been extremely positive, I had no idea what else it could be.
Well I guess I was going to find out.
I quickly packed away my laptop, smoothing my skirt as I stood. My hands ran nervously down my thighs as I walked to Mr. James’ office. It didn’t matter how old you were, going to the principal’s office still sucked.
Once I got to his door I faced another dilemma. Did I sit outside and wait to be called, or did I walk in with my shoulders back, trying to radiate confidence? It was something I debated for a good five minutes before knocking quietly on his door and poking my head into the doorway. It was a compromise and one I’d hoped would work in my favor.
“Mr. James, are you ready for me?”
“Ah, Beth. Come in.” He waved over his desk, the old mahogany artifact he worked on probably as old as the school itself. “Please take a seat.” He gestured to one of the leather chairs sitting opposite him, my ass lowering down slowly trying to avoid the inevitable creek.
Patricia, our vice principal, was also in attendance; her smiling face and bullet proof hair not giving me the comfort it usually did. They were showing a united front. Awesome.
She nodded as I situated myself in my chair, my smile back hopefully not conveying the what-the-fuck I had rolling around in my head. I wasn’t holding my breath, though; it had been hard enough for those words not to shoot out of my mouth while I waited.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve called you here.” His fingers tented in front of him as he leaned back in his chair. “I must admit, I was a little surprised to be receiving the call.”
Great. Whatever it was, it didn’t look good. A pat on the back and a well done probably not the reason for today’s meeting. Patricia’s appearance also spelled trouble, and the fact she hadn’t said anything was also worrying.
“I’m sorry, Mr. James, but I’m not really sure what call you are referring to.” A call? Did someone tip him off on my overzealous use of Post-it Notes?
“I’m assuming you are familiar with Mike Warren?” He leaned forward in his chair gauging my reaction.
I blinked back with almost utter shock.
Micro penis?
Well, I guess if you were going by the name on his birth certificate then I was familiar with Mike Warren, but I preferred to use my own title. I felt it had been justly earned.
“Umm yes?” I wasn’t sure how to answer it exactly, I knew him but anything other than that was a stretch. “Mr. Warren was a member of a gym I used to attend. I wouldn’t say I know him very well, we’re not friends if that’s what you’re asking.” Technically, the last time I’d spoken to him had been when I power walked out of his apartment. The thanks-for-nothing muttered out of my breath while I vowed to never see him again.
“I see.” His eyes darted over to Patricia, an unspoken dialogue s
eeming to transpire between the two of them. “Well, this is a little uncomfortable for me to mention, which is why I wanted Patricia to sit in with us.” The mystery of her appearance solved. “But I wanted to speak to you privately before anyone else is involved.” He took a moment, clearing his throat. “Was the nature of your relationship with Mr. Warren violent?”
“I’m sorry, what?” There was really no other response, my brain needing a crash cart over the arrest that statement just induced. Where to even start? I’d say the first misnomer was the word relationship, as in, we didn’t have one, let alone one that was violent. I couldn’t help but look around to see if this wasn’t some elaborate joke and I was being punked.
Any minute now.
“Mr. Warren has alleged that you had a relationship of a sexual nature and—” another uncomfortable throat clearing, “you liked to get physical.”
Okay, now it was just bordering on funny. Surely this was too ridiculous to even be true.
“I’m sorry, Mr. James, but I’m not following.” I tried not to laugh because I didn’t want to seem disrespectful. “Assuming we did have a relationship, I’m not sure that has anything to do with my ability to do my job. Or why it’s anyone else’s business.”
If I could go back in time and kick my own ass for poor choices, he would be the number one on my list. While I still had no idea why my faux pas in the dating world was relevant right now, I would happily save myself the trouble and the lost orgasm.
“Beth, you are one of our best teachers.” He blew out a long exhale. “The kids love you, as do the parents and you are very well respected among the staff.” I waited for the but as he took a breath. “I know you have recently been linked to that rock star but I need to know if there is any truth to this rumor.”
“Max is my boyfriend.” I nodded, still wondering why any of this was relevant. “We’re dating.” A quick internet search would have confirmed that even if I hadn’t. “But I still don’t understand how who I am currently or have dated in the past has any bearing on my ability to perform my job?”
“Mike Warren has spoken to the press.” Again a pause, more unspoken eye ping-pong between him and Patricia. “I have a friend on the board at The Times, so naturally with the nature of the story he felt compelled to reach out to me. It’s a rather detailed article, Beth. It alleges that you and he had a rather aggressive sexual tryst in the past. From his account it wasn’t a good separation and that you were obsessive and had violent tendencies.”
“Are you serious?” I coughed out, unable to keep my mouth shut a minute longer.
“Naturally, matters such as this are taken very seriously.” Mr. James nodded. “It will be in tomorrow’s edition. Parents, staff members and of course our board—it will be out there for all to see. So, unfortunately, I have to ask. Did you have an abusive relationship with Mr. Warren?”
“This is insane.” I giggled, the complete hilarity of the situation unable to be contained as I laughed out loud. “Have you seen him? I’m like a third of his size; I couldn’t sexually assault him if I tried.” At least not without a ladder and some serious amounts of duct tape, even then I’d struggle.
“Beth, you haven’t answered the question,” Patricia interjected, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
“No, it didn’t happen. Not like that.” I struggled to maintain calm, the professional exterior starting to crack the longer the interrogation went on. “Not that any of that matters though, apparently anyone can print what they like.”
“So, then you didn’t have a sexual relationship with him?”
And there it was. The micro penis knew there was no way I could deny the hook up. Because we had actually had sex. Consensual, boring, missionary position sex where I faked an orgasm and then left.
There was no doubt surveillance footage of the two of us at the gym, possibly some of me entering his apartment. So even if I wanted to lie, I couldn’t. Nope, the only thing I could do was give my account of what happened in that bedroom which wasn’t much. Which of course was at odds with his fictional version, not only sounding wildly embellished but highly incredible. Come on, me abuse him? Was he high?
“I think my personal life is under enough of a microscope, I’m not answering questions which are honestly offensive.”
“You have to understand that I’m between a rock and a hard place.” My nightmare continued. “What you do behind closed doors is your own business of course, but allegations of violence are not something we can ignore. We are answerable to our parents, Beth. And I’m sure they will have questions about whether it’s appropriate if someone with that kind of lifestyle teaches young impressionable minds.”
This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t be real. Some guy I’d basically had a one-night stand with was holding me to ransom. The allegation? Was he trying to insinuate that I beat him up or that I liked to get kinky in the bedroom? Or both?
“I refuse to be bullied by him or by anyone else.” My anger rose with each passing second. “What he is alleging is an out and out lie. But even if it were true, I never would act inappropriately towards my students. I love my job, I love those kids and I would never, ever do anything to put them at risk.”
“Beth, please.” Patricia tried the diplomatic approach, my outburst threatening to continue. “We’re not debating your sincerity, but that doesn’t change how this looks. And supporting that particular lifestyle is not in line with the school’s core values.”
“Are you kidding me?” My butt flew off the seat as my feet hit the floor. There was no way I was going to remain calm, chances are I’d already lost my job so why bother holding back. “How this looks? This is my life, my livelihood and my name that is being slandered. My parents and grandparents are going to read that.”
I had been prepared for having some asshole tell me I looked fat in my jeans, or that I wasn’t pretty enough to date someone famous. Hell, I was even ready for the gold digger remarks if they so happened to come my way. I didn’t care what they said; I would take all of it if that was the price of being with Max. My family knew who I was, my friends did too, and that was enough. But this, this was something entirely different. This was waaaaaaaaayyyyy beyond what I was willing to take on. The allegations, that the people I loved would have to hear about me—it was more than I could handle.
“Beth, perhaps you should take a day or two leave.” Mr. James shook his head, the words hanging in the air between us.
“Are you suspending me?” Please don’t cry, please don’t cry.
“Unfortunately, that is up to the board to decide. There will be an investigation to see if there has been some impropriety, but ultimately it will be their decision. The clause on your contract regarding personal conduct would be what is debated. I’m sorry, Beth, but I think until we work through this you should take some personal time.”
I felt like the floor had been pulled out from under me and I was free falling into a black abyss. In an instant, everything had changed and I had just a few hours left before I lost everything I’d worked so hard for. Everything I loved.
“Call your friend at the paper, tell him it isn’t true. Please, Mr. James, this is my life.” I hated that I was begging, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t just lie down and have it all ripped away.
“I already suggested he ask the editor to do some additional fact checking before running it, but there is evidence to support . . . I’m sorry, there is nothing else I can do.”
I didn’t run. By some miracle I was able to hold it together as I slowly walked out of the room. They wouldn’t see me cry, they wouldn’t see me fall apart; no one would get that satisfaction.
There were no slammed doors, no dramatic exit. Just a quick message to Jules that explained that I’d left without her and I was gone.
Not willing to deal with the subway, I hailed a cab, my façade cracking with each mile until I got to my apartment. I was so desperate to get away from everything and everyone, I completely igno
red Ben’s hello as I strolled past him in the foyer, the metal doors of the elevator closing before he had a chance to say anything else.
It was when I was finally inside my apartment and in my room that I finally let go. My body shook uncontrollably as the tears I’d been holding off for too long unleashed, my tangled arms and legs collapsing into a heap on the floor.
I thought about calling him, asking him why he was doing this to me, but deep down I guess I knew. For whatever reason he wanted to hurt me. Whether it was for money, or fame, or maybe because I’d never called him back—but me calling him now wouldn’t solve anything. It would just give him a front-row seat to watching me crumble and I wouldn’t give him that.
Everything ached, every single part of my body and soul hurt, and I continued to cry. The stream of tears unable to stop as I sucked in jagged breaths that felt like my chest was tearing apart.
My solitude lasted only thirty minutes, Jules coming home soon after and knocking on my door wanting to know why I’d ditched her.
Instead of telling her the truth, I gave her a lame-ass excuse that I had a bad headache. Not a lie considering my head was pounding, my sobs smothered by crying into a pillow.
I didn’t know why I was crying. I knew it solved nothing. I knew that if I wanted to fight this, I needed to get myself together and not be the mess I currently was. But at that moment, all the sense in the world didn’t exist in my head. I couldn’t make myself stop.
“Beth, what’s wrong? I can hear you crying,” Jules called through the door, my refusal to open it still standing.
“I’m just sick.” I lied, curling my body into a numb cocoon.
She would find out soon enough. Everyone would and everything I’d worked so hard for would be gone too.
It didn’t matter I was innocent. I’d seen schools let teachers go for something as trivial as a racy Facebook pic, a sex scandal? Bye, Felicia.
“Beth, open the door.” Max banged so hard on the wood, the whole wall shook. I assumed Jules and her big mouth was responsible, his knocking not the hello-can-I-come-in kind.