Craving Midnight

by A. M. Hargrove

  Midnight nods her thanks.

  We reconvene in my suite, which includes a room with a large table that seats six. It’s time to gather my thoughts. Midnight looked like hell—rough and destroyed.

  “What do you think?” I ask Leland and Emily.

  “She’s telling the truth. We deal with enough liars that I can spot one when I see one. A liar, she isn’t. She’s got a lot to deal with, but she’ll have to get through this,” Emily says.

  “I agree,” Leland says. “She has fire and spirit in her.”

  I saw that same fire. Plus she’s too freaked to be lying. The videos were awful. No one would do that and lie about it. Sitting back, I thrum my fingers on the table. “I’m not sure she’s going to like our plan, but it’s the only thing I know that will save her career. I’ll do my best to persuade her.”

  Emily laughs. “You always do.”

  My phone pings with a text from Misha, who remained behind with Midnight. She tells us it’s fine to come back.

  I shoot back, Would she feel more comfortable in the suite?

  A few seconds later, the response is that they’re on the way.

  I pick up the phone and order breakfast and coffee for everyone. We all could use a little something to eat.

  Misha arrives with Midnight behind her. I have them sit at the table. Midnight’s black hair is wet and she wears zero makeup, yet it doesn’t deter from her appearance. She’s every bit as attractive without it. Only the deep, dark crescents lurking beneath her eyes mar her perfect skin and reveal her despair.

  She curls into herself as she sits. This can’t happen. I need strength, not someone who appears damaged.

  “I ordered some food and drink so it should arrive momentarily. I need to make a call, if you’ll excuse me.”

  When I’m in the bedroom, I call Rashid. With his hacking skills, it shouldn’t take him long to find the whereabouts of the fuckers who did this. When he tells me what he’s discovered, I want to smash my fist through the wall. They used her own phone to record and upload the damn videos. We’re at a dead end here.

  “We know where she was when it happened. Can you somehow hack into the hotel security tapes to see who she was with?”

  “If they’re closed circuit, they won’t be much help other than with a visual ID,” he says.

  “True. Maybe I can persuade the hotel to give us more information.”

  “If you can do that, I may be able to help you ID them.”

  Everyone is drinking coffee and eating when I rejoin them. Midnight pecks at a piece of toast like a bird.

  “You ought to eat more than that. It’ll help the drugs clear faster,” I say.

  “It was heroin. I’m almost positive. It was sheer euphoria that I’ve never felt before. I’ve seen others high on it before. I didn’t give a damn about anything.”

  Resting my palms on the table, I lean close to her and softly say, “Whatever you do, don’t ever do that shit again. I’m only telling you this for your protection.” The addiction rate with that drug is scary.

  “I told you, I don’t do drugs.”

  “The temptation may be high since you know how it made you feel. But the next time won’t make you feel that way,” I say.

  “Do you have a hearing problem? I. Don’t. Do. Drugs,” she spits out.

  I smile. “Good. Now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s continue.” Taking a seat, I say, “I want every single detail of what happened after you woke up.”

  She talks about the feeling of panic and how she ran out of the hotel, worried they’d come back and find her again. This is where she loses it.

  I give her a moment to collect herself, then start in with more questions. This is key, while things are still fresh in her mind. “You remember voices.”

  “Yes. A woman and two men.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “Yes.” She’s adamant. “That I remember, but not much else. I couldn’t move my ankles. I remember that too. When I woke up and saw the ...”—she squirms in her seat—“that spreader bar, I remembered not being able to and it made sense why.”

  “These people knew exactly how not to get caught. My guess is they’ve done this before. That’s why they used your phone to upload the videos,” I say.

  She leans forward. “My phone? They used my phone?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” I hate that look of utter despair etched in her eyes.

  A hand flutters toward her face, but then drops to the table. “This keeps getting worse. It’s bad enough that Alta wants to pull my contract. I’m sure Holt is happy.”

  “Holt Ward? You mean your costar?”

  “Yeah, I’m not exactly his favorite person.”

  This puts a new twist on things. “Do you think he had anything to do with this?”

  Her mouth skews up, then gapes open. “Oh, I don’t ... well, he’s been a bit nasty to me, but I doubt he’d stoop to this level. Besides, I was with Danny, not Holt.”

  “True, but what if he had you followed?”

  “I can’t believe he could hate me that much.”

  Leaning back in my chair, I nod to Leland. This is a lead we need to follow up on. I want Holt Ward checked out. I want his phone records examined. Leland gets up to call Rashid. Rashid will have an answer in no time. And it may lead to who did this.

  “So, this is our plan, Midnight. You’re going to rehab.”

  “Rehab? But I don’t do drugs!”

  “Doesn’t matter. Since you don’t want to report this as a crime, we don’t have any other option. The world has seen you with a needle and syringe in your arm, getting nailed by two guys and a girl with all sorts of BDSM toys and enjoying it. What it looks like and what actually happened are two different things, but it’s the public’s perception that counts. I know this is difficult to hear, but rehab is the only plausible solution we can come up with since you don’t want to go to the police. You’ll announce that you’ve made mistakes and are now ready to address your issues. The public will really dig this. You’ll have them eating out of your hand.”

  “But it’s a lie,” she insists, her eyes welling with tears. Then she wraps her arms around herself.

  I wall myself off from her emotions. It’s a necessary evil. It’s sad, yes, but my job is not to feel sorry for her. My job is to clean up the shit pile she landed in.

  “Midnight, the public has seen these horrible videos of you getting raped, except those men made it look like you were enjoying it. We pulled them as soon as we could, but that didn’t prevent people from taking screenshots and posting memes or digging into your past. My question to you is do you want to remain with Alta?”

  “Yes,” she cries. “I was the victim. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “You don’t seem to hear what I’m saying. People don’t care about the truth. They only care about what the better story is. They don’t care that you were an innocent victim taken advantage of. They believe you agreed to all of this. We’re not going to change their minds since the police weren’t involved, unless you decide to report the crime. And if anyone does any kind of digging, they can find you did the uploading.”

  “What? But I didn’t do any of that!”

  In a gentle voice, I say, “I know that, my team knows it, and so do you, but what we know doesn’t matter. You only need to care about the public’s perception because they are the ones who can make or break you. You must listen to what I’m saying, and listen carefully. You’re going to make a statement. You’re going to say that rehab is your destination. After coming to the realization that you need help, you believe this is the best course of action.”

  Then I explain we are going to bring in how foster care affected her, how she never grieved the death of her mother, and why she spiraled downward into a life of drug abuse.

  She buries her face in her hands. “I can’t possibly say that.”

  “Why not? I was under the impression you wanted to salvage your career.”

 
; “I do, but bringing in foster care ... it’s too ... raw.”

  That’s when I notice the cracks in her exterior. Midnight isn’t as strong and spirited as we’d all imagined. But it doesn’t matter. Now is when she needs to dig deep and find strength to get through this. “That’s exactly why we’re doing it.”

  She flies out of her chair and the pacing begins. “Do you know anything about foster care?” she asks.

  “A little.” The truth is I am so far removed from it, it’s not even funny. My childhood was idyllic. My parents were perfect and still are. They should be placed on pedestals. Honest to God, they are the greatest human beings that ever breathed air.

  Skepticism coats her voice while she rubs her eyes. “Things happened there. Bad things. I don’t want that can of worms reopened.”

  “It’s already been opened. People know.”

  Violet eyes latch onto mine. “What do they know?”

  I pick up my phone and google her name. One click and I’m there. Her bio pops up and on the page, it talks about Phoenix, foster care, her mom’s death, and so on. Handing her the phone, I say, “Here. See for yourself.”

  I may as well have put a fist in her face with the way she reacts. What’s up with this? Why is she so afraid of the foster care thing?

  “What aren’t you telling us, Midnight?”

  “Nothing.” She stares at me but flinches after a minute. She’s hiding something and I aim to find out what.

  “Can we have the room, everyone? Emily, stop the camera, please.”

  Misha says, “Harrison, I don’t advise this.”

  I offer her a half grin. “I knew you wouldn’t. But it’ll be fine.”

  The team files out, leaving Midnight alone with me.

  “This is really a shitty time for you. I get that. But in order for me to help, I need the facts, and you’re not giving them all to me. Tell me about foster care. What are you hiding?”

  Her lower lip trembles slightly. “It just wasn’t a great place to be. That’s all.”

  “No, that’s not all. You went there after your mom died, right?”

  “Before. She was a heroin addict, which is why I’ll never use. I remember her leaving me and going to work. Or that’s what she’d say anyway. But I knew better. She would go out to hunt for drugs. The Department of Child Safety finally removed me from the home. I’m pretty sure one of my teachers turned her in, probably because I was showing up late or missing school altogether. I recall the two of us crying for each other as they dragged me away. I only saw her a few times after that, and then she was dead.”

  I pour another cup of coffee and offer her one. She declines.

  “You’re going to hate hearing this, but that’s a story the public would eat up. They would fall right into your hands. My God, think of it.”

  “No! I don’t want them to like me because of that.”

  “It may be your only option. And that’s why you turned to drugs.”

  “I haven’t turned to ...”

  She stops when she sees my furrowed brow.

  “Okay, I get it. They don’t want the truth. They only want the latest piece of gossip they can sink their stupid teeth into.”

  I lean on my elbows. “Exactly. Now you’re beginning to understand. So we spin it. And they’ll love you more than ever. In the end, Alta may even up your contract. Who knows?”

  “What if they fire me instead?”

  “They won’t.” She keeps twisting her fingers. “Midnight, what aren’t you telling me?”

  She chews on her already chapped lip. “Nothing. I was abused, had an addict for a mom, did porn films, and was raped. Isn’t that enough?”

  “It’s way more than most people ever have to deal with. But I still want you to agree to rehab for thirty days, and then make the statement. I know it’ll seal the deal.”

  “I won’t even know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to worry about a thing. That’s where my team comes in. We write it and you rehearse it, exactly like a script. Act it out like your life depends on it. In the end, you’ll be thanking us for saving your career. Who knows, you might win an Oscar.” It’s true, but she doesn’t believe me.

  “Okay, I’ll do it. One question though. Will I really be in rehab for thirty days?”

  “Yes, maybe longer, but you’ll be at the best facility. It’ll be like a spa.”

  She nods. I call in the team, log into the computer, and run a search on Lusty Rhoades. She was certainly active, not the household name some of the major porn stars are, but she made quite a few films.

  Rashid goes to work, making sure there is zero connection between Lusty and Midnight. This is going to take a while.

  Chapter 4

  Midnight

  Harrison Kirkland is a force of nature. Tall and broad through the shoulders, the man radiates strength. Whatever he puts in his coffee must be amazing because the energy bursting out of him is tornadic. He’s so confident and sure of things, not to mention dominant and sexy. I’ve never encountered anyone like him before. I want to trust him, I do. But after everything I’ve been through, it’s hard to believe this idea of his is going to work. And then there’s the whole other issue of foster care. He can’t dig into that. If they open up that part of my life, there’s not a chance in hell I’ll make it through.

  Plus I’m worried about what he thinks of me. Even though I shouldn’t give a damn, I don’t want him to think I’m just some washed-up piece of shit. I can’t end up back in the porn industry earning a living, sucking and fucking. Even though ultimately it was my choice, it certainly wouldn’t have been my first. It was a dirty and disgusting way to earn a living. I won’t tolerate it again, so his plan has to work. Besides, if it doesn’t, I’m not sure how I’ll be able to pay his hefty fee. When Rita told me how much he charged, I nearly died.

  We break for lunch and then reconvene in the little conference room with more questions and answers. Harrison leaves a few times, only to return with information about when I’m going to make this bogus announcement. He wants it done tomorrow. My gut cramps as dizziness nearly overcomes me.

  “Are you okay?” someone asks me.

  “I don’t feel well.”

  “Did you eat?” Harrison asks, as he leans down on the table, resting his hands close to where I sit.

  “Not much. It’s a little difficult when my stomach is in knots.”

  “Emily, call the doctor. She needs something to calm her down.”

  “No drugs.” I grit out the words. I won’t take any of that shit. It’s a Band-Aid for a gaping wound and solves nothing.

  “Fine, but you should probably be seen anyway. At least to make sure everything is okay,” Harrison says. His voice is kind, and it’s the first time I’ve paid close attention to his face. His eyes are warm. They’re dark brown, so dark it feels like I’ve taken a dive into an abyss. He wears a suit and is very professional looking. Handsome is what I’d call him. Not super good looking like that asshole, Holt. But he’s a whole lot nicer, that’s for sure. But then again, why wouldn’t he be? He’ll be making an assload of money off me. My bank account will be drained after this ordeal. The good thing is I won’t have to pay him if his plan fails. He must be confident it won’t.

  “Okay. If you think so,” I say. One of them calls a doctor and all I can say is they must have some serious connections. Thirty minutes later, a doctor shows up with one of those little black bags. Usually it takes forever to see a doctor where I come from.

  He ushers me into the other room, probably Harrison’s bedroom, and examines me. My blood pressure is low and he tells me I need to eat and drink because I’m probably dehydrated. Without the benefit of blood tests, there isn’t much more he can do.

  When we come back out, Harrison explains I tested positive for heroin. This is news to me as they hadn’t shared this yet.

  “Nice of you to tell me.” My tone bears more than a hint of sourness.

  “We were getting ready
to, but then you became ill,” Misha says.

  “It’s not a surprise, really. When I felt the sting of the needle hit my vein, I couldn’t imagine what else it could be.” Because of my mom’s drug abuse, I’d read enough about it to know what the effects were.

  “There were also traces of GHB present, which is what they hit your drink with. It’s a date rape drug.” Harrison hands me the report of my urine screening. No other drugs were present.

  “I hope you believe me now that I don’t use drugs,” I say.

  He’s seated at the big table, but he rises out of his chair and stands before me. “You need to get something straight. It’s not a question of whether I believe you. I’m not your judge, jury, and executioner. The public is. And for your information, I did believe you when you told me. That’s why I urged you to go to the police.”

  Does that make me feel better? Not really.

  The doctor steps forward. “Under those circumstances, you’re probably still feeling the aftereffects of both drugs. I advise you to drink plenty of fluids and eat, Ms. Drake. You’ll feel better tomorrow,” he says.

  A hysterical laugh leaks out of me but I clamp a hand over my mouth. I’m sounding a bit crazy, and feeling that way too. It’s hard to believe less than twenty-four hours ago, I was on top of the world, thinking things had finally shifted in my favor. Another laugh threatens to burst past my lips, but I press them together and hold it at bay. This isn’t the time to let my crazyville loose. I need to hold my shit together. The tears can flow when I get back to my own room later tonight.

  “Eat. Drink. Got it. Thanks, Doctor.”

  He nods, and Harrison escorts him to the door. I’m sure they have a few words about me, but who cares. I’m doing my best not to let all the pieces of me come tumbling apart.

  My phone rings, sending me almost shooting to the ceiling. Snatching the thing, I check the caller ID. Unknown. I won’t be answering that.

  “Answer it,” Harrison says harshly. “And put it on speaker.”

  “No. I don’t know who it is.”

  “That’s why you’re going to answer it.”