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“Come on,” she said, jerking her head toward her hot-pink Mini parked three rows back. “I’ll get you a drink.”
“It’s not even eleven a.m.,” Jesse said, squinting at his watch.
“Never stopped you before.”
“I have a concussion,” Jesse protested. “I’m not drinking.”
“Coffee, then,” Trixy said, clicking her key so her Mini beeped and flashed. “Tea. Fucking wheatgrass juice, for all I care. All I’m saying is, we need to talk.”
“I’ve got a kind of a situation. I don’t really have time.”
“That ‘situation’ is likely to get a whole lot worse if you don’t come with me now.” She held up her phone. He took it with shaking hands. Bile threatened to rise again. On the screen was a photograph of him, spreadeagled on the master bed in Oswald House. His wrists were tied to the headboard and Emory was on top of him, his face buried in Jesse’s neck and his arse tensed between Jesse’s spread knees. Jesse’s mouth was open, his eyes shut, his face a mask of blind ecstasy.
“Where…?” Jesse choked. He coughed, and tried again. “Where did you get this?”
“You’re not the only one good with surveillance,” she said, taking the phone back.
“Trixy…”
“How do you think this’ll help his kidnapping case, huh? Photographic evidence of him abusing one of his employees.”
“That wasconsensual.”
“He’s still your boss. That’s abuse.”
“It’s not.” Jesse made an impatient noise. “He’s my… We’re…” He growled in frustration. “He wasn’t abusing me.”
“He tied you up.” Trixy shrugged one shoulder. “Could be argued—”
“Now you’re gonna slut-shame me in the same breath?”
Color flooded her face under her pale foundation. “Don’t blame the player, Jesse, especially when yougotsomething out of all this.” She waved the picture under his nose. “And what did I get?” Her face twisted. “Nothing. Worse than nothing. Another hyped-up lead that never went anywhere. Do you have any idea what the trolls did after my tweet about getting arrested?”
“So the internet’s a cesspool. That’s not news.”
“They photoshopped me into prison rape porn, Jesse.” Her voice shook. “They sent it to my mum.” She suddenly looked painfully young. Jesse’s throat ached. Trixy took a breath and squared her shoulders. “So, I’m taking control back.”
“The world is full of dickheads,” Jesse said, his voice raw. “Ruining Emory’s life won’t change that.”
“It’ll change the news cycle.”
“Trix,” he pleaded, but she turned her back.
“I’m just saying come for a drink,” she said, sweeping to her car. “Take it or leave it.”
By the time they had found a quiet corner in the emptiest coffee shop they could find, Jesse felt ready to throw up again. Trixy smiled as she sat, tapping at her phone as her skinny oat milk latte steamed on the table between them.
“Sure you don’t want something?”
“Say what you gotta say, Trixy.”
Trixy placed her phone on the table and met his eyes. “I want an exclusive.”
“An exclusive what?”
“Interview. To get the truth out there.”
“To go viral, you mean.”
