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23 - ADDISON
Who died?” a spry voice asked, too chipper for ten o’clock at night. Was it only ten? It felt like it should be long into the wee hours of the morning with the way my exhaustion was setting in—but sleep, like my impending meltdown, would have to wait.
“Nana Kelly?” I itched the edge of my eye, careful not to ruin whatever makeup remained on my face.
“Yes, dear. Normally, the news is never good when the phone rings this late.”
“Oh, um… It’s Addison. Addison Allison, and it is rather late. I’m sorry.” The taxi turned left as my stomach growled, finding the idea of Chinese food and pizza extremely appealing.
“Don’t apologize, Addison. I’m retired, as you know, so I rarely go to sleep before midnight. So tell me, is the news good or bad?”
“Well, both. Remember that situation we were talking about at Beth’s party?”
“Of course. The douche-nugget. Did your secret plan work?”
“Better than I hoped. Four girls are willing to come forward.”
“Oh my stars, did this man….” Her words trailed off, and I shook my head, thankful I could squash that line of thinking.
“No, no, no. They were all in consensual relationships until one or more parties wanted things to end. Then threats were made about failing classes and losing scholarships. But this is bigger than I expected. Now, the girls are on their way to my house. My best friend’s fiancé is a cop. So I was thinking—”
“Where are you right now, Addison? And how did you get proof?” she asked, her voice turning fierce and firm.
“I’m heading home from the Arabella, and the proof resides safely on my person.” The taxi driver flicked his eyes my way from the rear-view mirror like he was waiting for me to finish the sentence, so I held his gaze until he looked away, not willing to give up the location of my secret SD card.
“Come to me immediately. We can take my Bentley to your house, and I’ll make some calls. We have work to do.”
“Oh, that’s unnecessary. I was hoping you had a contact at a larger newspaper or a connection at the college? I wasn’t expecting everything to go so smoothly. Well, almost everything.” My voice trailed off, lost in the reminder of what I lost.
Was it possible to mourn something before I ever really had it?
Or was Simon mine all this time, and I’d just lost him?
“Darling, I am the trump card they’ll never see coming. Not only do I know the Chief of Police, but the President of the college’s wife is in my Saturday morning book club. Now, are you ready to come by here?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, my spine straightening.
“Fantastic. I’ll expect you within the hour.” The phone clicked off, making a noise only a kid who grew up with hard-lined phones would understand, and I shook my head, tucking my phone back into my clutch.
“Seems like you’ve had an interesting night, lady,” the driver said, glancing into the mirror again. I scoffed and nodded, then slapped my hand over my mouth when a bubble of laughter spilled past my lips, making me sound like some sort of spastic clown. My shoulders shook as an un-ladylike snort crept between my fingers. I let the laughter out, my belly clenching like I’d done fifty crunches and tears leaked from my eyes until my voice was hoarse.
“That’s the understatement of the century,” I said, sucking in deep breaths and mashing on the button to roll down the window in the car. I unbuckled the seatbelt and angled my head so the cool night air hit my face, drying the tear tracks. “I need you to drop me off somewhere different, please.”
“Whatever you say, lady. I hope your night gets better.”
“You and me both.” I rolled the window up and laid my head back on the seat, rattling off Nana’s address and closing my eyes, knowing it would be the only nap I’d get for a while.
Sure enough, four hours, three pizzas, and copious cartons of Chinese food later, we were still going strong. Or Nana Kelly’s badass lawyer, Brian Calloway, was going strong. I was face down at the dining room table after having three cups of coffee which did nothing to stave off my exhaustion. If I weren’t legitimately scared of confessing this horrid tale to my friends and facing their wrath for keeping it to myself, I would have already called Jenna to come over with her magic vet bag filled with IV supplies and hook it up directly from my arm to the coffee machine.
I’d purposely kept my besties at arm’s length these last weeks—further than that, if I was honest. My way of dealing with personal shit was to internalize the details until I could figure out a solution. Then I’d present it to them as my own ah-ha moment, and we’d celebrate with a round of drinks. The last time I shut down was when the Brad debacle first happened, so how ironically fitting was it we went full circle with me doing the same thing now?
The three girls Charlotte brought over looked to be faring better than me—glad to have the chance to tell their story, and Brian Calloway had the poker face of a champion. If he was at all bothered at being roused from his home and summoned to a random house by Nana Kelly, he didn’t show it. He knocked on the door, casually dressed in dark jeans and a tan corduroy with a smile and a cup of Earl Grey tea.
After safely downloading the SD card to an external hard drive, he loaded it onto a digital recorder and disappeared into the back room. Then he interviewed each girl with painstakingly slow accuracy while I clicked away at my laptop, struggling to put together some semblance of a presentable article.
In a surprisingly friendly move, Stacy spoke with me for over an hour as we brainstormed ideas and worked through the best approach to the ordeal. Charlotte and the girls left with the extra food after giving the article an initial read-through, with promises of an update from Brian after the meeting with the Chief of Police.
My laptop beeped, alerting me I needed to grab the charger when a traumatized voice had me popping my head up from the table like a deranged jack-in-the-box.
