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I pushed myself against the bathroom wall and unlocked the phone. Cringing, I opened the web browser and searched for my name in the news section. Dozens of articles came up in the search, and I clicked on the first one, a Hollywood gossip site loudly asking in the headline if I was the next person in Landon’s love life, or if I was just someone he’d hooked up with for a short time. I wasn’t after that, though. I wanted to watch the sex tape, which the article linked to as part of the coverage.
It was only about ninety seconds. Not much, but enough. There I was, on top of Landon, naked. Someone had the decency to blur out the most intimate parts of my body before they leaked it to the press, but still, there was little use trying to deny it was me. The recording captured my face clearly.
Damn it.
I sighed and dropped my head against the drywall, the weight of this moment crushing my chest. At least in the bathroom I was safe and alone. The quiet stillness almost made it possible to pretend the nightmare wasn’t happening, and I hadn’t watched everything I’d built wash away in the wake of a few stupid decisions. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I should have paid attention in the few yoga classes I’d attended over the years; I could have used the training.
I don’t know how long I stayed there. Fifteen minutes, maybe a half hour, I wasn’t sure. I just sat, starting at the tile in the shower, wondering if my life was ever going to go back to normal and somehow understanding that no, it wouldn’t.
I didn’t get up until I heard a knock at my door.
I threw some water on my face, wiped it with a cloth and padded to the condo entrance, where I peeked through the keyhole, careful not to make any sound as I did. Olivia stood on the opposite side of the threshold. I slid the lock and yanked open the door. “Oh my God. Thank God it’s you.”
“Yeah, exactly. What the fuck?” When I stepped aside, my best friend crossed into my foyer. I shut the door behind her and double locked it. She pulled me into a long hug. “I came over after you didn’t answer my texts. I figured...”
“This is a mess.”
“I don’t...I don’t get it. How did they get that video?”
I pulled out of her embrace and backed against the nearby wall. “A hacker?”
“Maybe. But wouldn’t someone like him have amazing security?”
“Yeah, but it’s happened before to companies, and even countries. People get through stuff.”
“Still.”
I shrugged. “I think whoever did is the least of my problems right now. I mean...my whole career is over.”My career, my privacy, my love life...
“Don’t say that.” My closest friend cocked her head, and her next words were soft. “It’s not.”
“Yes, it is. Why would anyone read the newsletter now? And why would—”
A loud buzzing interrupted my sentence, and we both jumped.
“Are you expecting anyone?”
I shook my head, and Olivia crossed to the keypad that showed the downstairs camera fixed on the entrance to the building. When I bought the unit, the intercom system and accompanying features had been a big part of the sell; only owners and management at Olivia’s coffee shop had the code to the main lobby that united the retail storefronts with the residential section. She glanced at the screen before she whirled back to me, her eyes wide.
“Holy shit. I think it’s the media.”
“What?” I walked over to see for myself, and what greeted me nearly made me throw up again. At least two reporters and three photographers stood on the front stoop of the building. I should have anticipated them, but their presence came as a shock. I’d spent plenty of time in my life covering the news, but never gave any thought to what it would feel like tobethe news. “Fuck.”
“Oh my God,” Olivia breathed. “This is really bad.”
“It’s two, right? Or three?”
“Right now.” She leaned against the nearby wall. “But come on, you’re the journalist. You know how this goes—”
“There’s going to be more of them.” My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I spoke the stark reality aloud. Suddenly, the walls of my condo felt small and confining, a prison instead of an urban oasis. “A lot more.”
Olivia’s shoulders slumped, as if she shared some of my overwhelming dread. “I’ve read about this, but I’ve never seen it before.”
“It’s rough. No, it’s hell.”
I thought about the countless times I’d been on the opposite side, yelling questions at people I’d never seen, knocking on front doors of houses where I wasn’t wanted, and digging up small nuggets of information I could use to build a story for whatever assignment I’d been given. How many people had I hurt in the past? How much damage had I done? How many times had I dismissed real suffering in the wake of a deadline or a headline?
“Maybe I deserve this.”
