Stella lets out a low whistle.
“You can’t sign your name the regular way if you’re doing street art,” Willa says. “Too easy for the cops. But I didn’t want a fake tag, either, so I just flipped my name upside-down and messed with the letters a bit.”
“I thought you were a mad genius when Violet showed me your art,” Stella says. “Now I really like you.”
Willa blushes with pleasure at the compliment.
I pull my camera out of my bag, trying not to think of the stalker touching it, as Stella dives in with more questions for Willa. She knows when to shut up and listen, too. At this rate she’ll be able to write a huge article.
I snap a few test-frames as they talk, Willa’s animated face over her sketch pad with the large VIIIM/WILLA scrawled across it. I check my light balance in the digital display and Willa’s head snaps up.
“I never said you could take pictures of me.”
“Sorry. I just thought, since you agreed to talk to me—”
“You thought nothing. I only agreed to introduce you to the artist. Which I did. Here I am. And I’m talking to you, so you won’t assume something stupid like I’m a man. But I never gave you permission to take a picture of me and make it public!”
I’m reeling from the force of Willa’s fury, and Stella steps in to try to calm her down. “We don’t have to use that picture. Hey, Violet wasn’t trying to screw with you. I promise.” Stella reaches for Willa’s hand but Willa withdraws as if she’s been stung.
I hold out my camera to Willa. “I’m sorry. Erase them if you have to. I really just want to do a photo profile on your art. If you don’t want to be pictured, I can live with that.”
Willa accepts my camera and starts pushing buttons on the digital display. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I can’t.”
Before I can ask her what that means, she turns the digital display around to face me, her face scrunched in an ick. “Is that your boyfriend?”
I take the camera from her and the naked body of a man fills my display screen. His head is just out of the photo and one hand extends toward the camera, triggering the shutter for this selfie. The other hand grasps his erect penis.
“Is this the new selfie?” Stella cracks, catching an eyeful from beside my shoulder. “I thought it was the Duck Face.”
I’m speechless, terrorized beyond words. Not only am I seeing my stalker in this picture, I know exactly where he is. Behind him, there’s a too-familiar shade of purple.
My duvet. My room.
CHAPTER 31: JAYCE
I spot her flame-red hair before Violet sees me in the building lobby of Leverda, Maloney and Probus. Even though it’s only been a few hours, I grin because I’m happy to see her again.
The last time I looked forward to seeing a girl this much was … never.
Apparently, the feeling is not mutual. Violet forces up the corners of her mouth in a tight smile and goes through the motions in security. We’re the only two people in the elevator car.
“How’d the interview go?”
“Fine.”
“Did you meet the artist?”
“Yeah.”
And then there’s silence for forty floors.
I introduce us to the receptionist, who takes us to a conference room to meet Gus. Gus explains he intends to help Violet get her pictures off sites by sending takedown letters on her behalf and threatening further legal action.
“I’ve got some good news and bad news from my research so far.”
Violet takes a sip of water and nods, her eyes red.
“The good news is that most of the sites with your photo are operated from the US, so it’s a lot easier to track down the site owners and make legal demands that actually have teeth,” Gus tells her, and I feel a weight lift from my chest. Maybe Violet’s nightmare could finally be over.
“The bad news,” Gus continues, “is that there are a lot more sites than we thought. Jayce sent me ten.”
Violet turns to me and her brows lift, unaware that I’d found more sites than the one she’d shown me.
“I found forty-two more,” Gus adds.
And just like that, all of the air in the room is gone.
“How can there be so many?” I demand.
“The site that originally posted your pictures probably shared them with several more, and then those shared with others, and so on,” Gus says. “Some of the revenge porn sites are even operated by the same people, or guys who know each other. They’re betting that you won’t go after one of them because there are so many others that there’s no point. It’s just like the pirate sites where you can download music. Proliferation is insurance for these guys. They spread out the risk of getting caught.”
“I want every damn one of them gone,” I hiss. “All of them. No matter how long it takes.” I tell Gus about the letter we found in her camera bag today.
Gus pushes papers across the desk for Violet to sign. “This gives us the power to act on your behalf to demand the sites remove your photo.”
But Violet’s staring at her lap, shaking her head. “It won’t help,” she whispers.
I disagree. “What? I don’t want some random creeps looking at you—”
“No. It doesn’t matter. The creeps already found me. The stalker …” She digs into her camera bag. “Look.”
Images of a guy jacking off light up her camera display. My mouth turns in disgust and I point it to Gus to let him in the loop.
“That’s my room. My stalker,” Violet confesses. I hate the way she says the word “my,” as if he’s already got his hooks in her.
“Jayce told me a little about him,” Gus says. “You need to go to the police with this and the letter. It’s evidence.”
***
I take Violet to the police and it kills me to leave her there and head to band practice. I program my car service number into her phone and make her promise to take it over to Tyler’s the minute she’s done.
I try to shake off the hopelessness Violet projected in the meeting with Gus and focus on what we can control—he’ll send at least a dozen takedown letters today. Violet already has one filthy guy after her. I don’t want her pictures online a minute longer, for fear she could attract more.
Gavin and Dave are already at Tyler’s and we practice with little small talk. Kristina and Chief lounge on the couches. Things are tense in a few songs where we’re still ironing out the kinks, but Chief doesn’t comment—he dives straight into plans for LA when we wrap.
“I’ve got our bookings, a new producer lined up who I think you’re going to like, and we’ve got a publicity op for Saturday night if you’re up to it,” Chief says, rattling off notes from his iPad. Details of a birthday party for an A-list starlet make Saturday night sound like a blowout—and a royal pain in the ass.
“We don’t have to go to that, right?” Tyler asks. I know what he’s thinking. He’d rather spend the night cuddled up with Stella than fighting off the Hollywood freak show of silicon-enhanced groupies. That was my scene.
“Either we all go, or none of us do,” Dave counters. “We’ve been seen apart too much, particularly with Gavin’s solo on Late Night. We need to present a united front.”
I exchange glances with Tyler. The rest of the band doesn’t know about Viper Records’ offer, and I haven’t decided whether to act on it, but Dave’s always had a sixth sense about strategy and keeping up appearances.
“Then we’re going,” Gavin says. “We can’t make this trip all work and no play. Let’s lay down our best stuff Saturday, blow off steam at the party Saturday night, and then regroup Sunday for the do-overs.”
“Can you organize dresses for the girls?” Chief asks Kristina.
“It’s really short notice, but I’ve got a couple of designers I can call.” Kristina frowns and taps a couple of notes into her phone. “Can’t we just wear something we’ve got?”
“No.” Chief is adamant. “This is the full deal—we’re probably going t
o get press pickup on this in conjunction with recording Wilderness, and while studio time isn’t sexy, this better be. Appearances count.”
“Be sure you have something for Violet.” Five pairs of eyes turn to me.
“She’s going?” Kristina asks, like she’s saying, Are you really going to wear that?
Tyler gives me air cover by distracting the guys while I beckon Kristina to the kitchen for a quiet sidebar. I grab a beer and offer her one, but she shakes her head.
“Seriously? Bringing a girl’s only going to cramp your style, Jayce.” Kristina gives me a flirty pat on the arm like she endorses this, even though ninety percent of the time she complains about the girls I date behind their backs. To their faces, she’s always syrupy sweet.
“It’s not a problem. Violet’s important to me.”
“Like, girlfriend-important?” I hear the challenge.
“That’s not even the point. When I say she’s important, she is, OK?” I can’t keep the rising frustration out of my voice.
“Chill, Jayce. It’s not like you’ve got to marry her.”
The M-word makes me choke on my beer. “Don’t mess with me.”
Kristina laughs. “I totally just did. And I got to you. I win.”
I set down my beer on the kitchen counter—hard—and get in her face. “Listen to me. There’s something going on here. Something you don’t even know about, but when I say it’s important to me for Violet to come, you’re just going to have to deal with that. She has to come with me.”
Kristina crosses her arms. “Then tell me. What’s so important that you’re going to force another girl on us? How long did Shelly last? Two weeks? And how about Amelia? Amanda? What was her name?”
“Anastasia,” I shake my head to bring the memory into focus. “I think. That’s not the point. The point is Violet needs me. And I want to be there for her, even if it means taking her to LA.”
“Tell me why.” Kristina’s chin is set and now I know I’ve stepped in it. I dangled some random piece of information out there and she’s like a dog on a bone; she won’t quit until she’s pried it out of me.
Fuck.
I consider lying, but maybe the truth will make her gentler with Violet. I swear her to secrecy and she nods, eyes wide.
“Violet’s got a stalker. He’s doing all sorts of creepy shit, sending her messages and watching her. He broke into her place when she wasn’t home, so I’ve got her staying with me. And I don’t want to leave her in the city by herself.”
Kristina’s eyebrows soar. “And how exactly did a nobody like Violet get a stalker?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, knowing she’ll rip me a new asshole if I lie and she finds out. “You promise you won’t tell anyone?”
“I just did. And haven’t I always been the model of discretion?” There’s a taunt in her voice, but I take her at her word. She’s been Dave’s girlfriend so long that she’s got dirt on all of us.
“There are pictures of Violet online. Naked pictures, tied up and shit. She never meant for them to get out—some ex took them and posted them for revenge.”
Kristina’s expression softens with pity. “And you believe that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
The pity’s not for Violet—it’s for me. “Jayce, what turnip truck did you just fall off of? She told you that she didn’t want them public, but between having kinky pictures taken in the first place and then dating you—that girl’s a starfucker just begging for attention.”
My hands move before my brain engages and I grab the sleeve of her shirt. If she were a dude, I’d punch her in the face for what she’s saying about Violet.
“You will not. Fucking. Tell. A. Soul.” I seethe. “Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” Kristina’s voice is ice and steel and she shakes my hand off her shirt. “I’ll get a nice little dress for your good little girl. Wouldn’t want to disappoint, would we?”
“Shut the fuck up, Kristina.” I walk away from her, long strides to the bathroom to get away and cool off. I hate that I just spilled Violet’s secret to the one person I shouldn’t even trust with my dry cleaning.
“So, Chief.” I hear Kristina’s voice just before I close the bathroom door. “Looks like we’ve got a full flight to LA.”
CHAPTER 32: VIOLET
When the town car drops me at Tyler’s loft, I’m not sure if I should knock on the door with the big Do Not Block sign or call for Jayce to let me in.
“Violet?” Stella walks up the sidewalk, eyes darting around for lingering press, but we’re the only ones on the street except for a delivery guy halfway up the block. “Good timing. Practice is probably over.” She unlocks the door for us and hustles inside.
We climb the stairs and I spin a lie about how some perv messed with my camera while it was in the coffee shop’s lost and found. In truth, the police took the letter and my memory card into evidence and dusted the camera for prints. I still don’t have any promises beyond “we’ll look into it.”
“That’s just scary,” she says and opens the door to the loft. Gavin, Tyler, Dave, Chief and Kristina are sitting on couches in an animated conversation.
“Speak of the devil,” Kristina says and looks at me.
What the what? I’ve barely said two words to this girl and she’s calling me the devil?
“Play nice,” Tyler warns. Stella wraps her arm around his shoulder, nuzzling him with a kiss. Their tenderness warms me.
“Oh, I will,” Kristina says, but her face says otherwise. “I’m getting us all ready for the party Saturday night. Stella, you know the drill.”
Stella sees my trepidation and reaches a hand out, gesturing to me to sit on the couch beside her. “It is kind of fun, Violet,” she says. “Kristina has some designer hookups and we get to play dress-up.”
No, no, no. That does not sound like fun. That sounds like something public. Something potentially embarrassing. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Doesn’t look like you have a choice, girlfriend.” Kristina makes girlfriend sound like a dirty word. “You’re on the hook to go, says Jayce, or else he’s going to have to dig up some other groupie for his arm candy.”
“Stop it, Kristina.” Gavin narrows his eyes. “I picked Beryl. Tyler picked Stella. If Jayce wants Violet to come, that’s his prerogative. You can’t get all snippy.”
“I’m not being snippy. I’m cooperating.” She draws out the last word like a kindergarten lesson.
Chief clears his throat. “Fine. Then we’re set to go. Wheels up at 9 a.m. Friday.”
“Too freaking early,” Gavin says.
“It’s an extra five grand if you want to leave at noon,” Chief counters. “But I got you reservations in a private room at The Ridge for seven.”
“We’ll be there,” Tyler says. He winks at Stella. “You don’t want to miss that.”
“I feel like I’m missing something,” I whisper to Stella.
“Jayce signed you up for our trip to LA,” Kristina says.
I shake my head. “Oh, no. I can’t go on a trip right now.” A million excuses swirl in my brain but they all stink.
I don’t have a job, so I can’t blame it on not being able to take time off. I don’t have much money, but it doesn’t sound like I’m expected to pay. And the real reason—that I can’t afford to be in Jayce’s orbit because I’m afraid of publicity—is something I can’t explain without telling the truth about other things.
Only Jayce knows. I can’t even bring myself to tell Stella.
“We’re recording and there’s a party Saturday,” Chief explains. “You’ll be Jayce’s date.”
“That’s nice to be invited, but I’m not really big on parties.” That’s the truth. After attending dozens of functions in the shadow of Brady or my father, I prefer to avoid them. I feel like a trained pony, trotted out for show.
Chief frowns so I try to be conciliatory. “Maybe some other time?”
“Don’t hold your breath, honey,”
Kristina says. “You might not even make it until Saturday.”
Jayce emerges from the bathroom and his eyes are thunderous. “Violet. Let’s go. Now.”
I stand up automatically, following his pointed finger to the door. I give Stella a small wave as Jayce bends and whispers something to Kristina and Chief. From the shocked look on their faces, it must have been vicious.
***
“When were you going to tell me about this trip to LA?” The silence stretched between us in the car ride back to his place, but now that we’re inside his apartment, I can’t avoid speaking to him any longer.
Jayce plunges his hand into his hair and then scrubs his face. “It’s a fu— a flipping mess. I’m sorry, Violet. I wanted to ask you, not have you hear the plans from Kristina.”
“But you made plans.”
“I did. I don’t want to leave you alone while that guy is still out there.”
I stand awkwardly in the space between his kitchen and living room.
He comes to me, placing a tentative hand on my shoulder. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I—I care about you.”
Those last four words thaw the ice that’s coursed through my system since the minute I saw the pictures of my stalker on my camera. Jayce cares, without the layers of judgment anyone else would heap on me for being so colossally stupid to let those pictures happen in the first place.
It makes me want to hug him, and so I do.
At first, I feel his body stiffen. But as I pull him close and smell the mixture of sweat and warm skin and laundry soap that lingers on him, he softens and his hands rest on the small of my back.
Jayce tips his head down until his forehead touches mine. His dark lashes fan across his cheeks, eyes closed, and I listen to him breathing for a few long moments. “Please come with me. I don’t think I can even concentrate on recording if I’m afraid of what you could be going through back here in New York. Please.”
The plea is gentle, but its pull is strong. I want to give in, want to please him, but I’m terrified of what comes after. What if my brush with someone famous means that fame rubs off onto me?
Revenge Bound Page 15