I rush outside of the pharmacy, running through the couple of blocks that separate me from my shelter. Everyone’s eyes are on me. After all this time . . . how? Who found me? Why would people even care about me anymore? I haven’t worked in years, or done anything stupid. Have I? My phone rings again, I pick it up this time.
“Thea, where are you?” a rough voice with a desperate tone asks. “Sweetheart, I have to find you. This is Arthur Bradley.”
“A block from my house, your place.”
“Stay where you’re at,” he orders. “I should be there soon. Everything is going to be okay.”
A black SUV with tinted windows screeches tires right in front of me within seconds of me hanging up. The passenger door opens and Arthur curls his fingers calling me. This reminds me of some crazy action movie. The moment I jump in, the doors are locked, and before I can buckle in, he gives me a tight hug.
“I worried I wouldn’t get to you in time.” He sighs with relief. “Buckle up, sweetheart.”
“Did you see the magazines?” A whimper escapes me as I ask. “Couldn’t they wait until next Monday after I had talked to them?”
“Life is never easy, sweetheart.” He squeezes my hand. “Why weren’t you at the practice?”
I don’t answer; for a few minutes I close my eyes and wish for the day to be over. But they flutter open knowing that avoiding the obvious isn’t smart. I pull out my phone and google Thea Dennis. Nothing comes up. That in itself is a victory. Aggie Levitz isn’t as lucky. The first picture I spot is of the three of us—Matt, Coop, and me—inside Coop’s Malibu home, naked. Tons of pictures of us are invading the Internet, but also old pictures of me. Articles of my old life. My skin prickles with the thoughts of all those naked pictures of myself lurking on the web.
My attention goes back to the top of the page and my finger trembles as I tap on the video tab. Aggie’s sex tapes. Chills run through my body. A sex video? That’s worse than flashing my boobs at a bar when I was seventeen. I tap on one but only a black screen with a sad face that says, “This video has been removed” appears. But how many watched it before they removed it? Who removed it?
“This is bad.” My shaky voice imitates my body. “Matt. His family isn’t going to accept me after this.”
“You’d be surprised.” He stops the car and points forward. I lift my gaze, finding myself in front of AJ’s porch. Matt, Jacob, and Mason stand there, crossed arms with unreadable expressions on their faces. Arthur places a hand on top of mine. “Thea, we’re all with you, you have a family. By the end of this ordeal your life will take another turn, but I hope the changes are for the better.”
His soft grey eyes watch me with tenderness. I take off my seatbelt and hug him. “Thank you for finding me, for being so nice to me.”
“If I’d known, I’d have found you before, Thea.”
Before I can ask what that means, the passenger door opens, redirecting my attention toward it. Matt’s open arms are the first thing I notice and I jump into them.
“I . . . Do you hate me?” He squeezes me hard and doesn’t answer. “Talk to me, Mattie.”
“I never liked him—Martin. Now I hate him,” he says, putting me down. “How are you?”
Hurt, confused, upset, sad . . . scared. I only shrug.
“Really, Thea? Martin Levitz is your father?” AJ’s voice comes from behind Matt. “I just want to know why wouldn’t you trust me with that?”
“She’s crazy and likes to know everything,” Matt whispers, smirking at me. My heart resumes its beating, knowing that he’s not upset, and that
maybe
she’s not going to punch me in the face.
“So how was it, being the daughter of the Metal Icon?” Jacob steps closer. I point at his father. “Him, nah. He never partied.”
Chris comes closer to me and gives me a tight fatherly hug. “Where was Jessica when all that shit was happening?”
“Drunk, high . . . lost.” I bite my lip, because I’ve asked myself that question several times. Where was my mother? “I’ve tried to help her but . . . she’s back at it again.”
“You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped,” Arthur says, stepping closer. “Jessica has been beyond help since I met her. Martin is a scumbag and no matter what he did to her, she—”
“She only has eyes for him,” I finish his sentence and he nods. “We . . . I wasn’t ready to tell you. Almost, I swear.”
Each one of them has a different face, but neither one looks upset. Angry, but not directing the rage toward me. But I don’t have much time to analyze the scene, as nausea hits the back of my throat. I rush to the bathroom, barely making it on time. This time I’m only dry-heaving, but it takes several minutes for me to calm down. I splash cold water on my face and my neck, and clean my mouth.
“Do you need this?” Matt steps inside the bathroom holding the plastic bag. A huge explosion occurs inside my chest, my hands going to my belly. I wasn’t ready to tell him, or for him to find out.
“Coop?” I take the bag from him. “How bad is this, Mattie? I mean the magazine stands have a lot of trash about it but . . . there were videos. Not sure what kind, but videos. Pictures of us . . .” I close my eyes and he scoops me into his arms.
“The videos have been wiped. They’re sex videos.” I turn around for another round of puking my guts. His hand glides up and down my back. “One of them is of Coop and me, the other of Coop and you in the pool. He’s not taking any of my calls.”
Videos of Coop having sex?
“Are we going to survive this one, Mattie?”
“I hope so, Butterfly. We have to.” He hands me the plastic bag again. “Might as well find out now.”
“If it’s positive?” I mumble the question not knowing my own answer.
“According to the box it means you’re pregnant.” He gives me that playful smirk. “Thea, I swore to you that no matter what happens, you have me. This scandal will only bring us together—you and me. Neither one of us can speak for Coop; he’s his own man.”
A man whose father had a heart attack, and is only now coming to terms with his sexuality. Not sure how he’s handling this. Fuck, I wish we’d gone with him.
A
fter a five-hour flight, and the thirty-minute drive that followed, I arrive at the hospital where they’d rushed my father. He had a heart attack during his drive home. His car crashed against a semi, and he has a few broken ribs, a broken hip, and bruises. Later today, the cardiac surgeon will perform open heart surgery. I didn’t understand the medical terms, but it’s best if they perform the hip surgery at a later date, when they know that his heart will withstand that second surgery.
“This is all your fault,” Fey screams, handing me her tablet.
The frozen image of two men stares back at me. She taps the glass and the motion starts. A dark-haired man kneels in front of . . . Chills run through my body. Matthew. The man standing, grasping onto the hair of his lover is Matt. It is difficult to make out the face of the man with him, but it’s me. I’m the one in a very compromising position with a very intimate part of his body. In my mouth. My eyes move from the screen toward my sister. “What the fuck, Fey?”
She shrugs, taking her seat at a table away from me. “I don’t know, a friend of mine sent me the link. She knows I like Without A Compass.” Tapping the screen, she changes the browser tab, showing me a Google image search of MJ Decker—naked with another man. “You’re famous.”
“Please tell me this isn’t you, Tristan,” Mother pleas, with that insufferable voice I’m starting to hate. “These are men. Men.”
Yes, they’re,
we
are men.
Fey looks at her nails, then glances at me. “I hope you’re happy. Because this and other filth alike is what sent our father into the predicament he is in right now.”
I swallow hard, worried about what’s going viral, and hoping we can stop it before my girl realizes what’s going on. Searching through my phone’s browser for Matthew Decker, I stumble upon her old name. Aggie Levitz. Articles of her pop up as I google her name—the mention of a hit and run, an OD at a bar. Shivers run through my veins as I remember her fears, that someone will find her and sell her. Former model and child star is back. Pictures of her with Matt and a blurry second man stare back at me. That’s me, my body. Fuck.
Fuck
.
One picture in particular grabs my attention. It’s of Thea and me at the pool. As I tap on it, an entire article that includes a sex video appears. Matt isn’t with us. Wait, we’re at
my
pool. My eyes lift toward my sister whose triumphant grin takes over her entire face. That day at my house when she came by with Victoria. Fucking. Bitch. My ears buzz with rage; my entire body vibrates and I’m about to explode.
“You gotta be fucking shitting me,” I yell at Fey. “This! You did this.” I point at the phone. Her smirk grows, the same stupid smirk she’s had since we were little when she would tattletale on Lucas or me. The information she provided would always grant her something: my father’s love and a reward. “What could you possibly win by doing this shit, Fey? You’re not a kid anymore. We’re adults.” I extend my hand, showing her my phone. “This . . . this is playing with the lives of others. Do you realize what you did to her? To my girlfriend?” My heart squeezes as the full force of what Fey has done comes crashing down.
She feigns indifference with the shrug of a shoulder. “It was brilliant really,” is her answer, as if I’m the one missing the point. “First I thought I could blackmail you with those pictures, but then I decided to make a real profit out of them. Do you have any idea how much I made when I sold those? You should thank me that I didn’t use any of the pictures where they could see your face—or release your name.”
“These are human beings, with feelings, Fey.” I step backward before I do something stupid like bash her face in. “What the fuck is wrong with you? My girlfriend is on the cover of magazines, being portrayed as someone . . . Same with my boyfriend. Do you get some kind of sick power trip from hurting me? What did I do to you? Why do you hate me so much?”
Mother gasps. “Please moderate your tone. You’re putting those people before your sister, before your own blood. You have to stop being around those two . . . just stop this.”
“You stop, Mother. I’m tired of your insults and all the drama. The fake suffering. Do you even care about your children?” My hands curl into fists. “I doubt it, because if you did, you’d know that what Fey did is wrong. That
I’m
hurting. You have no idea who my partners are. You haven’t taken the time to get to know them or know me for that matter. All my life you’ve been trying to mold me into someone I’m not. You’ve been overlooking that your daughter is a cruel bitch who only cares about herself.” My attention goes to my sister. “So what is it, Fey? Why is it that you always try to find ways to fuck me over?”
Her narrowed eyes and petulant expression give me all the answer I need. She’s the same bratty little kid she’s always been; who was always jealous of her brothers, and never grew up. Always the victim.
“Fuck
you
? Everything is about you, Tristan,” Fey screeches. “My parents only care about you and what
you’re
going to become. It should’ve been me! Why couldn’t I have been groomed to be the next CEO of Cooperson Corporation? I would’ve done a great job. Ever since we were little, everything was about Tristan. It didn’t matter what I told them about you. They would only discipline you and forget about it.”