Page 64 of Brought By the Storm

Stefan’s face was pained. “We have a problem.”

We all sat ourselves again, awaiting the news. “What?” Eric prodded.

“Mateo posted a picture of Carrington on Facebook. A shirtless photo,” Stefan whispered.

“What?” I exclaimed. “You must be mistaken. There are no shirtless photos of me on the internet for him to have posted.” I grabbed Stefan’s phone to see what he was looking at. My mouth opened in horror. It was one of the pictures Eric had taken of me, evidenced by the background and furniture from his studio. I was reminded that I had posed shirtless, my jeans had been unbuttoned and unzipped, and I had been showing the waistband of a jockstrap. My hands shook as I scrolled to see what Mateo had typed.

Here’s a great photo of a model, newcomer Carrington Howard. I had the pleasure of meeting him and his hot-as-you-know-what model friend, Stefan. What do you think of the picture? This was taken by my buddy, photographer Eric Turner. How about you all show him some love? He’s so talented. If you’re a model, reach out to Eric. He’ll make sure you look good—not that Carrington needed much help. He and Stefan are going to set the world ablaze. So proud of my friends! —Mateo

I turned to Eric, and he could tell from my shocked expression that it was bad. He grabbed the phone from me and groaned. “What the fuck!”

“Fuck indeed! What have you done, Eric?” I accused, my voice rising enough that fellow diners looked over.

Eric swallowed and looked like a lost child. “I didn’t give him this. I don’t know how he got it.”

I grabbed the phone back from Eric’s shaking hand, reading more of the thread to see if people were commenting. That was when the nightmare became reality. One of the people replied to Mateo’s post, writing “Carrington Howard? That’s Carrington Von Dorran—he’s the president of Yastarus. Is this a doctored pic?” Others started commenting, saying they had looked up photos of me online, and there was no question of the identity of the man in the photo. Several respondents were writing explicit remarks or innuendo, but the question kept popping up through the thread as to whether the photo was a fake.

“Give me the phone, I’ll tell Mateo to take down the post,” Stefan suggested.

“It’s too late,” I replied, somewhat dazed that this was happening to me. “It’s been up for over an hour, and people have been re-posting it.” I wiped a hand over my face, feeling sweat despite the air-conditioned room. “Shit! Fucking shit!”

“Carrington, I…” Eric began.

“Shut up, Eric,” I spat, cutting him off. “Stefan, call Mateo. Maybe get him to post that it’s a fake and an ill-conceived hoax.”

Stefan nodded with uncertainty. “Okay. But Carrington, you belonged to the Pennington Knights football team. All the players saw you without your shirt many times. Past girlfriends have seen you, as well. Some of them are bound to tell people that they know the picture is real.”

I closed my eyes, trying to block the voices shouting at me that I was stupid to have indulged in the photography, and even more idiotic to have trusted Eric. My anger toward him returned. “Eric, you knew the picture was private, didn’t you?” He knew. I had stressed it several times. I was flailing.

Eric looked back and forth between the hostile faces of Stefan’s and mine, his eyes welling with tears. “Carrington, I don’t know how Mateo got the picture. I swear. It doesn’t make sense.”

I shook my head in disbelief. It was bad enough that he had betrayed my trust, but now he was sitting there lying to me. Even though I knew he was scared, I thought he was honest and strong enough to take accountability. Stefan had been right all along. I didn’t know this man well. Before I could say anything, my own cell phone buzzed. It was my mother. As much as I hoped it was a social call, the timing led me to believe otherwise. I debated answering, but gave in. “Mother?”

“Carrington, the internet is blowing up. Everyone in our political party has been asking me if I know anything about that picture. Please tell me it’s Photoshopped.”

I sighed. When I didn’t answer, she started ranting in our native language. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

“What were you thinking? Did he goad you into posing shirtless—and unbuttoning the top of your trousers, no less? Did you know he was going to have Mateo promote his photography with it? Carrington, this is an utter mess. You’re the President of Yastarus!” I didn’t know that there was a good response, so I sat silent, suffering her punishing words. “I’m glad your father isn’t alive to see this. He’d be devastated and humiliated. Everyone is asking me what I’m going to do—as if this is my burden to bear. You tell me what you’re going to do.”

“I don’t know, Mother. I just learned of the leak a couple of moments ago,” I explained. “Eric was driving me and Stefan to the airport.”

“Do not even mention that man’s name to me. I regret encouraging you to figure out what you wanted with him. Didn’t I tell you to be discreet? This is the furthest thing from discretion—unless some photos of you naked pop up next.”

I felt my cheeks heat. She was being sarcastic and not suspecting I had been that foolish. I glanced at Eric and prayed he wouldn’t have shared the explicit photos. He was staring back at me, forlorn, a tear rolling down his cheek. I looked back at Stefan, too angry and disappointed to lock eyes with Eric. “Mother, maybe I could tell people I did it because we agreed it would be private—wanting a picture for myself only—to be able to look at it in the future and remember my days as a youthful man.”

She paused. “I’m not sure you have much choice. But it didn’t stay private. You’ll have to tell them you bonded with Eric Turner when he sheltered us during the storm, and regretfully, you showed a serious lack of judgment by trusting him to take the photo. It will be scandalous, but survivable.”

At this point, a salacious story about my vanity, wanting a shirtless picture keepsake, seemed like a gift. Providing the other photos and my indiscretions with Eric stayed buried, I could ride out the embarrassment. “Very well. Mother, have our public relations team put together and release a statement from me to that effect. Please review it before its release to ensure it minimizes the damage as much as possible.”

“Carrington, I don’t need to tell you—you can’t have another bombshell follow this one. Ensure Eric Turner’s silence regarding anything you two did together. You need to convince him that we will bring the full weight of the Yastarus government against him if he tries to profit off your…whatever it was.”

I choked back a cry, thinking it was love. How had everything gone to shit so fast? “Yes. I will. Mother, Stefan and I must depart or we’ll miss our flight.”

“Be prepared,” she warned. “Once reporters sniff out the flight you’ll be on, you’ll be landing into a press orgy. Just keep repeating that you released a statement and you have nothing to add. Agreed?”

“Yes. Yes, I understand.” I leaned my forehead into my open hand. “Mother, I’m so sorry.”

There was another pause, then her voice softened. “I know you are. We’ve all made mistakes, Carrington. Try not to make future ones as asinine as this one. You’ll get through it. I’ll see you in a few hours.”