“Amen,” Grace said after him, hoping that a prayer was really all she was going to need to get through this.
Chapter 36
Junell paced back and forth, biting the tips of her manicured nails.
“Stop walking back and forth, before you wear a hole in my floor,” Grace commanded from beneath the cream microfiber blanket she was using to swaddle herself between sips of kombucha.
“I don’t know how you can just sit there,” Junell said, slapping her thigh.
Sitting and waiting was all Grace had done for the past month. She sat and waited for the right time to leave her building. Frankly, she was tired of ducking and dodging the paparazzi. She was over creeping into the building through the service entrance and entering the church through the basement, but it was either that or face the reporters and photogs, who had not stopped hounding her since she’d sat down with Diane Khan and put it all out there.
“Nothing else occupies my mind except clearing your tarnished name,” Junell continued. “I can’t believe that doing the right thing actually got you into more mess than when you do wrong. Grace, we have to do something.”
“If my own father doesn’t believe me, how am I going to change the minds of the American people?”
Grace locked eyes with Junell, and her chest swelled with fear when she saw that one raised eyebrow. She had read Junell’s mind and already knew what Junell was twisting her red lips up to say.
The pictures.
Flinging back the blanket, Grace jumped up and stood toe-to-toe with Junell.
“I will not do it. It’s out of the question.”
“Grace . . .” Junell had turned on her “Come, let’s be reasonable” tone of voice.
“No,” Grace replied adamantly, with her hands folded across her chest.
Junell cuffed Grace’s wrists. “Stop thinking about yourself. What about his other victims?”
Twisting her arms until she was free from Junell’s grip, Grace shouted, “I’m no martyr! Please allow me to keep what little dignity I have left.” Grace stomped her way back to her spot on the couch.
“You should think about it. Or at least pray on it, now that you’re a praying woman.”
Grace rolled her eyes and folded her hands across her chest. “You know, I’m in no mood for nonsense,” she said as her doorbell rang. “Junie, did you let anyone up?”
Junell shook her head. “Maybe it’s Horace. That’s the only person I could see Arnie letting up here. But you stay there. I’ll deal with whoever it is.”
Grace moved her legs back and forth while she waited for the sparks to come flying. She felt sorry for the schmuck who thought he’d outsmarted the doorman. Arnie looked like a rottweiler but had the personality of a bulldog, while Junell, on the other hand, had proven that when it came to Grace, she was a Doberman pinscher ready to attack.
After a few nail-biting minutes on the couch, Grace couldn’t take the wait; she needed to know who was at her door. She hustled to the door, snatched the knob from Junell, and opened the door wider to get a good look at the person standing there.
She was a rail-thin girl the color of eggshells, with high cheekbones coated in a dewy orange blush. Her septum was pierced, and one side of her hair had been shaved off.
“You’re a little too edgy to be a reporter, you’re not a member of my church, and you don’t have a camera, so you’re not a paparazzo. Who are you, and what do you want?” Grace said.
The girl looked down. “Grace . . . I mean . . . Ms. King, I . . . I . . .”
Snapping her fingers, Grace said, “Let’s go, girl. I haven’t even said my prayers yet.”
“Chill,” Junell said over her shoulder to Grace. “You’re going to want to hear what this girl has to say.”
“Javier Roberts raped me too,” the girl blurted. “He took pictures of it and said that he would send them to the press if I told anyone.” She pulled a manila envelope out of her messenger bag. Her hands shook as she handed it to Grace. “I was scared and didn’t know what to do. I don’t want this to continue. Ms. King, how do I make it stop?” she asked, her face now covered in tears, her whole body trembling.
Junell wrapped her arm around the unnamed girl and ushered her inside, while Grace remained at the door.
Grace was frozen in time. He’d done this to another girl, and now she was looking to Grace for leadership. “I can’t help nobody. I can’t even help myself,” she mumbled.
And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.
“Now, this time I know it is you, Lord, speaking to me. I am not built for this,” she whispered to God.
No, you were made for such a time as this.
Grace ran her fingers through her short hair, massaging her scalp, until the feeling returned to her legs. With her feelings collected and in order, Grace joined Junell and Javier’s most recent victim in the living room.
“What’s your name?” she asked the girl after inviting her to take a seat on the couch.
“Carol Jasper, better known as the Egyptian Silk girl,” she said, bowing her head, folding her hands in the center of her chest, then raising her cat eyes a few inches to meet Grace’s.
“I knew I recognized you from somewhere, but I couldn’t place it when Grace opened the door,” Junell said, jumping up and clapping. “You know, I bought that shampoo just because of how shiny your hair looks on the bottle,” she added and then turned to Grace. “Now what?”
“Let’s see what Carol wants.” Grace turned to Carol and kneeled down in front of her. “Carol, I know what you’re feeling right now—disgust, shame, embarrassment, horror, depression, fear, and loneliness all at once. I was just seventeen years old when Javier got ahold of me. How old are you?”
“Seventeen. I was fifteen when I started working with Javier.” Carol lowered her head, and a few droplets of tears fell on the manila envelope in Grace’s hand. She brushed them away.
“I don’t have to open this envelope to know what’s in here,” Grace said, squeezing Carol’s hand. “Javier sent me a package just like that ten years ago. The question that we both have to answer today is, what do we want to do about it?”
Carol turned her arms over and rolled up the sleeves of her chambray top, revealing the insides of her forearms. They looked like a prisoner had been using them to count the days of a two-year bid.
“I haven’t taken a job in ten months.” Carol began to cry again, sucking up the mucus that was dripping out of her nose. She continued. “I’ve been cutting myself, and I don’t want to hide anymore.”
Chapter 37
“Carol, where are your parents?” Grace asked.
Carol dropped her head and focused her gaze on her scars. Grace needed to know the status of Carol’s parents before offering Carol the guest room. If they were active in her life, Grace wanted them included in whatever steps they took next.
There were generally three kinds of parents Grace had encountered during her time in the business. There were the control freaks, who kept their kids on a tight leash. They had to approve of their kids’ wardrobe and makeup. The children basically couldn’t use the bathroom on the set without their permission. Then there were the parents who were laissez-faire. They showed up to the shoot, but they were so involved in the little bit of limelight they received, they did not even pay attention to what they were approving. Last, and most definitely least, were the hands-off parents. Those parents signed their kids’ lives over to the agency, and the only thing they checked on was how many zeros were on each check.
Tapping Carol’s chin, Grace asked again, “Where are your parents?”
“I think they’re in the South of France, vacationing. After the big payday from the Egyptian Silk contract, they decided it was time for them to go on vacation.” Tears fell from Carol’s eyes and landed in the grooves of her scars. “They’re touring Europe for the year. They call the house every couple of weeks. I’ve just been lying to them, sayin
g things are great and I’m booking all these jobs.”
“You know, when this comes out, everything is going to change for both you and your parents,” Grace said.
“The thing I realized while watching your interview was we live our lives concerned about how things are going to affect people who don’t care very much about our well-being. This is my truth,” Carol said, holding her scarred arms out. “If you’re standing with me, I think I can handle the fire.”
Junell raised her hand from her spot on the couch. “May I interject?” she asked politely and earnestly. She’d been so quiet, Grace had almost forgotten she was there. “I think I know how this should be handled,” Junell continued. “We have to get your agent or publicist to agree to it first, but I think I have the perfect idea. Let’s host a press party at Ethan’s office. We’ll have Carol there. She can tell them what happened to her and unveil the photos.”
“Hmmm . . .” Grace scratched the back of her neck. “Those pregnancy hormones must be really getting to your brain. Even if we show the photos, it will still be Javier Roberts’s word against ours. Those photos aren’t particularly incriminating in nature. That’s the power of them. He can tell any story he wants. Photography is his medium, and he’s had lots of practice explaining and justifying his art. If he takes a picture of a cow, he can convince people there’s a bat in the photo. We have to one-up him.”
“I already have,” Carol said, digging into her messenger bag again. “The last time he touched me, I recorded it.” After fishing around for a few seconds, she withdrew a cell phone from her bag and placed it in Grace’s hand. “It’s all on there,” she said, with her top lip turned up. “After I went to hair and makeup to change looks, I snuck my phone on the set and stuffed it under a pillow behind me while he wasn’t looking.”
Junell stomped her feet and clapped her hands several times. “Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus! This is exactly what we needed. Now we can have the party, reveal the photos. Carol can share her story and play the recording for any doubters and ask his other victims to join us in seeking justice against this vile, rotten pig.”
“Join us?” Grace asked slightly surprised. “When did this become your battle?”
“As soon as it became yours.” Junell stuffed her palms into the couch cushions, using them as leverage to get herself off the couch. “Just as Jonathan’s soul was knit with David’s, so is mine with yours. From the first day I met you in the office of Fresh Faces Modeling Agency, I loved you as my own soul,” she said, pressing down on her heart, then plucking away the one stray tear.
Junell went on. “Whatever bind you’re in, I’m in. Whatever hole you’re in, I’m in, and I have no plans of staying there. Just like it says in Revelation, chapter twelve, verse eleven. ‘And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony.’ Let’s see the scripture made manifest in our lives, girl.” Junell reached out and scooped Grace into a side hug. “Now, get Ethan on the phone and tell him we need this done yesterday. Carol, baby girl, you’re going to have to sleep on the couch, ’cause it’s too late for me to be driving back home. Where do you live?”
“New Jersey.”
“Yes, it’s definitely way too late for that, and I’m too pregnant to be sleeping on somebody’s leather couch.” Junell rubbed her belly. “That’s how I wound up like this in the first place,” she said, laughing.
“Stop that,” Grace said, whacking Junell on the arm.
“The marriage bed is undefiled, honey. If you know like I know, you better marry that chocolate drop as soon as possible, before you both melt from the heat,” Junell said, creeping toward the stairs.
“Just toss some sheets down her for Carol please,” Grace called. “Carol, you can stay the night, or however long you need. Before I call my lawyer, I just want to make sure that you’re cool with what we’re about to do.”
Carol gripped her knees and nodded her half-shaved head.
“All righty, then. I’m going to call my guy to set everything up. You call your people when you have a chance, just to warn them. Even if they’re not going to support you, let’s not leave them hanging, okay, kid?”
Grace walked to the downstairs bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. She was not who she used to be, and she was glad. “Call Ethan,” she instructed her phone. “Ethan . . . I didn’t expect you to pick up on the first ring.... Listen, I need you to send a courier over here now to pick up some photos. I need these photos blown up and put on display in the conference room.... Do you think it’s too cold to use the rooftop deck . . . ? Ethan, don’t worry about the details. Just listen to me. . . . We’re going to have a press conference tomorrow morning. Make sure there are plenty of mimosas on hand and little finger foods. I’ll also need some speakers to hook up to a cell phone.... What do you mean, you don’t like how this sounds? You’re going to love this.”
“Good morning, Alice,” Grace said as she approached Alice’s desk. “This is Carol—”
“Carol Jasper, the Egyptian Silk girl. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere. What are you doing hooked up with Grace King?” Alice’s caked-on, low-rent foundation cracked as she turned down the corners of her mouth like she’d gotten a whiff of rotten meat.
“We’re here to see Ethan,” Grace said, answering for Carol.
“You’re actually on time, Grace. That’s different. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Take your time. We’ll have a seat right here.” Grace sat down in one of the fluffy peach chairs that decorated Ethan’s waiting area. This was the first time since Ethan became her lawyer that she’d taken a seat in the waiting area. Alice dropped the cup of coffee she was holding as Grace reclined in the chair with her legs crossed. Carol pulled a few tissues from the holder on Alice’s desk and began to dab at the coffee on the rug.
Alice shook her head. “Grace, stop playing. What are you doing? Aren’t you going to bust in there, like you usually do?”
Shrugging her shoulders, Grace said, “I’m sitting down. I’ll wait. All things must be done in decency and in order.”
“Am I in the twilight zone or something?” Alice bent down and stuck her head under her desk, then stood up. “I didn’t see Ashton under there. Which show is this for?” She laughed. “This ain’t right. I never heard you quote the Bible.”
In all honesty, Grace was shocked herself, but during the month she’d been trapped in her house, all she had to do was read. Unfortunately, she’d never been one of those intellectual models known for their brains and beauty. The Bible Horace had given her the day she joined the church was the only book she had in her house. Grace pored over it day and night. She had replaced her yoga with daily scripture reading. This exchange was a sign that she was actually retaining some of the knowledge she was acquiring through the study of God’s Word.
“I’m doing things differently now, Alice, and I’m truly sorry if I ever offended you in the past.”
“Offended me? You’ve done more than offend me.”
“But not more than what we have all done to Jesus,” Ethan interjected, placing his hand on Alice’s shoulder.
Grace breathed a sigh of relief. Alice was just about to read her the riot act, and Grace wasn’t sure if she was saved enough to handle that without giving her at least one good tongue-lashing.
“Good morning,” Ethan said, bowing slightly in Carol’s direction.
“Ethan, this is Carol—” Grace said.
“Carol Jasper, the Egyptian Silk girl,” Alice said, cutting Grace off.
“Hi, Carol. Are you here to watch the fiasco, or are you part of the fiasco?”
Grace stood up and dusted off the shoulders of Ethan’s cross-grained coral and gray blazer. “Hmmm . . . black trim,” Grace noted, lifting the lapel. “This is a nice suit. This won’t be a fiasco. You’ll be glad you set this up, Ethan.”
“I wish you’d just tell me what’s going on,” he replied.
Grace shook her head. “I can’t. N
ow, let’s get upstairs. I want to be seated when the paps get here.”
Ethan escorted the ladies to the elevator and stuck his card in the slot on the elevator panel to gain access to the rooftop deck.
When the elevator doors parted, Grace two-stepped like she was auditioning for Glee. The scent of fresh flowers engulfed her. Small bouquets of burgundy Kung Fu tulips, dark orange roses, red carnations, and baby’s breath lined the aisle between the many chairs that had been set up in front of a long table. The chairs were covered with beige drapes, and the photos were covered with scarlet sashes, creating this delightful autumn aura.
Grace and Carol took their seats at the center of the table. Moments later their support system arrived. Junell took a seat beside Carol, and Candace sat next to Junell. Ethan, Horace, and Pastor David flanked Grace’s right arm. They had become her right-hand men.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Grace whispered, blowing kisses to each of them as the reporters filed in. Turning to her left, she signaled for Junell and Candace’s attention. “When I say, ‘We want to share something with you,’ I want you two to rip the sashes off the pictures.”
By 9:01 a.m., all the seats were filled with reporters from across the country. Some of them were still groggy from their red-eye flights. During Ethan’s introductory speech, Grace waved and winked at a few reporters from the LA Times whom she hadn’t seen in a while.
“We’ve assembled you all here today to share a special announcement with you,” Ethan stated with a slight smile on his face.
“Are you teaming up Grace with Carol Jasper to do a joint venture?” one reporter shouted from the middle row.
Grace pushed her chair back, stood up, adjusted the neck on her mixed-print, long-sleeve Balenciaga dress, and strutted to the podium. She blew kisses from her fuchsia-stained lips to the reporters before speaking. “Please hold all your questions until we are done. Who asked if Carol and I would be working together?”
Seasoned with Grace Page 22