Page 87 of Apparently, I’m A B!tch

Not compared to real bitches like Rochelle.

People who went out of their way to use their privilege to hurt others–they were the worst kind of asshole. And I couldn’t stand the sight of her, much less the thought of her getting away with hurting my best friend.

“Rochelle Weiner, various complaints have been filed against you for sexual coercion. You are hereby restricted from entering the premises of Extra Shot coffee shop, or any premises in which the claimant may be in the vicinity of.” I handed the papers to her and she took them with incredulous eyes and trembling fingers. “Consider yourself served.”

The crowd around us watched eagerly, waiting for Rochelle’s response. Low mutterings burst around the room, and I felt my spine stiffen as she stared at me, her face beginning to twist into indignant fury.

But before she could speak, before she could throw her drink in my face or scream in her high-pitched voice, a loud guffaw sounded from behind her.

“Rochelle, my love, are you in the business of sexual coercion now?” Her eyes flew open and she turned to see a tall, graying-yet-suave man in a navy-blue suit. “You have to force someone to have sex with you now?” He tutted. “That is embarrassing, my love.”

She gasped and trembled with what I was sure was rage. “Shut up Roger, shut up! I don’t have to force anyone! This–this is ridiculous!” She turned back to me and spat the words out. “You and Tristan, this is fake, isn’t it? This is some stupid ploy to buy my cooperation! Well, that bastard has no case against me; I didn’t do anything to him. He wouldn’t even touch me.”

A rush of vindication swept through me as Rochelle realized what she’d said. Her crestfallen face proved that Tristan didn’t sleep with her. He didn’t cross that line. He was telling the truth. Although I already believed him, hearing it from her horrible lips made it all the sweeter.

“Be that as it may, the violations filed against you are still categorized as sexual coercion, Ms. Wiener. You’ll have to contact your lawyer if you want these claims disputed.” I stepped closer to her, my chest inches away from the glass she held, letting my lips curl into a vicious smile. “My client would be happy to take this to court, Ms. Wiener. Very happy.”

She spluttered under my gaze, until Roger laughed again. “The Met couldn’t have paid for better entertainment. You were slapped with sexual coercion AND you’ve never been able to drag the man into your bed? Oh, this is priceless, my love, just priceless.”

She turned, threw her champagne in his face and screamed, “SHUT UP ROGER, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” Then she pushed her way through the crowd, still absently clutching the papers I gave her.

As Roger wiped his face with his pocket square, still sporting an odd little smile, Kenny and Carlos turned to me with open-mouthed stares.

“T really filed a claim against Rochelle?” Carlos was breathless, staring at me with wonder in his brown eyes.

I nodded. “And what would really help his claim are your statements. Rochelle threatened you as well, didn’t she, Mister Mcloughlin?”

He hesitated, despite Carlos nodding emphatically beside him.

“Mister Mcloughlin, Tristan has a strong case against Rochelle, but your testimonial would only strengthen it. I understand what I’m asking you to risk. Rochelle has been in control of your art sales for a long time. But if you continue to allow her to have this power over you, more people could be facing similar career sabotage. Telling the truth can be a life-altering thing. The changes brought by it aren’t always easy changes, but they’re the right kind of changes. Will you help us?”

He bunched his lips and looked around at the now-boisterous crowd. Then he nodded. “It would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it? Please tell Mister Kashif to expect a call from me on Monday.”

I beamed at him and nodded. Carlos whooped and let out a laugh. “Man, T was right about you. You ain’t no kitten.”

I sent him a warm smile and wrinkled my nose.

A kitten, a bitch, The Cutter. As long as Tristan called me his, it didn’t matter what anyone else called me.

I knew what I was, I knew the truth, and that’s all that mattered.