“I don’t think I’m the one with the skewed idea,” she returns. “Look, take some time. Think about it. If you do that and you really decide you don’t want to take Alexander on, we can come up with some other way to handle this.”
“I already told you, I don’t want to handle it. I just want it to go away with the next news cycle.”
“It isn’t going to go away if you don’t handle it. It will always be there, waiting for some asshole to bring it up again—at a party or during a job interview or in the press because Alexander decides to do a sexy movie and they think it will get them more play.”
God. I know Chloe’s right, but hearing her lay it out like that makes me queasy. I can’t believe this. I just cannot fucking believe that this is suddenly my life. And that no matter what I do, it’s going to continue being my life for quite some time.
I’m going to be everything from a cautionary tale to a punch line on late-night TV and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Nothing but take Chloe’s advice, a little voice whispers inside my head. But I don’t want to take her advice. I don’t want to be a poster child for anything. Yes, I’ve spent the last couple of months working to clean up my act, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready for anything like this. Especially not when anyone with an Instagram account can find pictures of me drunk or dancing on the beach in a bikini or…This is a disaster waiting to happen.
And yet, I think of how I felt when I saw that video this morning. When I looked into my father’s face. When I realized the whole world saw me naked and at my most vulnerable just because Alexander wanted them to. Worse, they’re judging that image of me, making fun of me, jerking off to it…It makes me want to scream.
Makes me want to cry.
And most of all, it makes me want to make sure he can’t do this to anyone else. After all, if he recorded us having sex, he probably recorded himself with a lot of other women, too. Who’s to say he won’t do the same thing to them if they piss him off one day?
“Who says it will even work?” I demand in an effort to cut off all the different thoughts running through my head on a loop. “Even if I come out against Alexander, even if I tell the world that he’s the one who leaked that video, what’s it going to change? Who’s going to believe me? It’s not like we can prove he did it—he may be an idiot, but he’s a survivor. One who’s smart enough to know he has to cover his tracks.”
Chloe makes a choking sound. “Are you kidding me with that argument?” she demands. “Who exactly do you think you have on your side here? Beavis and Butthead? When Ethan and Miles work together, they’re pretty much unstoppable. I mean, if they can figure out how to cheaply and easily desalinate water and single-handedly end the drought in California, I think they can handle tracking down the IP address the video originated from. All you have to do is tell them that’s what you want.”
I don’t know what I want right now. I don’t have a fucking clue. It’s been less than twelve hours since my whole damn life fell apart. I don’t think it’s too much for me to ask for a little time to think things through before I do something I’ll regret.
Chloe must know what I’m thinking, because after a few seconds she says, “I know this is a lot. I know you’re freaking out. And in a perfect world you’d be able to crawl into bed and just bury your head until the next celebrity does something stupid.” She sighs. “But this isn’t a perfect world and you’re visible enough on the celebrity scene that this is a double shot of gossip. It’s not going to go away unless we make it go away. So why don’t you take the night and think about it. In the meantime, I’ll have Ethan’s PR department issue a statement for you—”
“I don’t want to issue a statement!” It’s more whine than anything else, because I know she’s right. The longer they go without a comment from me, the bigger the story will get.
“Fine,” I begrudgingly agree after a couple of long, silent minutes. “What’s the statement going to say?”
“Something along the lines of what goes on between two consenting adults is nobody’s business but theirs, and that your only mistake in this situation was trusting a man you cared about to keep you safe. We’ll also have legal chime in and remind them that the dissemination of this video—or any images from this video—without the express permission of the people involved puts anyone involved on shaky legal and ethical ground. Then we’ll follow it up with the injunction against it that Ethan’s lawyers have already filed on your behalf.”
I bury my face in my knees as gratitude sweeps through me. Of course Ethan and Chloe have my back. Of course they do. And so, apparently, does Miles. Who would have thought that was possible?
Before Chloe can say anything else, I hear Violet crying in the background. “Go take care of your daughter.”
“She can wait a few more minutes,” Chloe answers. “Ethan has her.”
“Yeah, but that’s her hungry cry and there’s not much he can do about that. Go.” I take a deep, shuddering breath. “And thank you. For everything.”
“It’s nothing you wouldn’t—and haven’t—done for me,” she says firmly. “Who held my hand during the Brandon debacle?”
“Ethan.”
She makes a disgusted sound. “Considering I wouldn’t let him anywhere near me for most of it…”
Violet’s crying gets louder. “Go get your daughter,” I tell her again. “I’m fine. I swear.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And I promise to think about what you said. In the meantime, have Ethan go ahead and release that statement.”
“I will.” She pauses. “It’s going to be okay, Tori. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but I swear, it will be. Get some rest and we’ll talk tomorrow—or later tonight. You know you can call me anytime.”
“I know.”
After she hangs up, I stay where I am for a while—thinking and also trying not to think. But avoidance will only get me so far, so eventually I push to my feet and start walking back toward the house. I’m about halfway there when Miles appears at the French doors, his eyes wary and worried.
Suddenly everything I’ve been feeling for the last few hours wells up inside me—the anger, the fear, the gratitude, the love, the resolve—and I walk straight up to him. I wrap my arms around his neck, thread my fingers through his hair, and pull his head down to mine.