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The radio has a millisecond of dead air before the song begins to play. Suddenly, the sound bites get choppy and static hits the airwaves. A chill runs over my skin and I’m standing at my desk before I realize it. Muffles, then moans of pleasure fill the night.
“More, James. Please. My heart aches for more…”
“Quivering, Casey. This is how I always want you…”
Impossible is the only word that comes to mind. My jaw drops and I run out of my office to the elevator not hearing the rest. There is no way this can be happening. Some fucker just broadcasted our stolen moments to a crowd of possibly hundreds of thousands of radio listeners. I had to get to Casey. I had to make sure she was all right because when I found the bastard who did this, I was going to kill him…
III
Radio Silent
Love can either silence you, or set you free…
17
Casey
“More, James. Please. My heart aches for more…” My brain focuses on the panting and shuffling of bodies in those private shared moments meant for no one’s ears but mine and James.
“Quivering, Casey. This is how I always want you…” The groans and whimpers between us are audible and real. Our voices echo through the headphones into my head.
Sitting inside the sound booth, my heart drops to the floor. Dots swim in my vision, darkening the outer edges of my sight, as bile burns the back of my throat. Hot flashes of embarrassment overcome me. I try gripping the edges of the desk, looking blankly around the studio, but my fingers are met with a numbing resistance. My body feels that sickening free falling sensation of everything slipping away. I’m so far out of control, I can’t get it back. What I wouldn’t give for this to be a nightmare or an honest to goodness out-of-body experience.
Is this really happening?
Dazed, I slip my headphones off. I can’t hear Tucker, but I can see him calling out my name, frantically trying to plug in a different soundbite, some lame advertisement for laser hair removal, muting out the intimate sounds of James and me in the throes of passion. My own voice moaning in ecstasy in the background now sounds like nails on a chalkboard. What was once a private moment between lovers now seems crass and exposing, ten full seconds of a most private affair.
I let the headphones clatter to the floor, startling me back to reality. One of the most intimate moments of my life has just been aired for all my listeners to hear. I’m confused, hurt, numb. I stagger out of the studio and run for the elevator, pressing the button. The doors open and I run in, hitting the back wall.
“Casey! Shit! Casey, stop!”
I push myself towards the panel of glowing buttons and press one, effectively shutting out my future. The doors begin to slide and James comes into view from the stairwell. I watch his eyes grow wide and sad, a frown crossing his handsome face. I screw my own face up to avoid the torrent of tears, using my arm to wipe my face off and cover my heated cheeks. The silver panels close in, hurtling me down twenty flights. Sobs fill me on the way down to the lobby. I don’t have a car, and James or Tucker would have been my planned ride home, but the shame within me wants to be alone to tend my wounds. Unfortunately, the next bus isn’t due to arrive for some time yet.
“Whoa! Casey, what the hell was that?” one of the security guards… Brian, I think his name is… asks me the one question I don’t want to answer.
“I need to go.” I tell him. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I push through the doors, ignoring him. I hurry outside and walk in a direction which I blindly guess is toward my apartment. Huddled in my jacket, the neighborhood begins to look worse and worse, each noise I hear making me shake in fear. Every car that passes looks like James’, but he’s the last person I want to see right now. Ducking into an alleyway, I find myself sliding down to the filthy concrete. The wind changes and lightning cuts across the night sky, rain beginning to fall in earnest. It slicks against my cheeks as I start to get up, heading towards a bus stop, anything that will get me within walking distance of my place.
I check my pockets and find my keys, cellphone, ID, and a twenty dollar bill among my worldly possessions. At least it’s something, although I know it won’t go far. The instant I take the cellphone out, it buzzes with a series of missed text messages.
BossMan: Casey, call me right now. I need to know you’re all right.
I feel as though nothing will be alright again.
BossMan: Where are you? Sweetheart, I’m worried. We can fix this.
I don’t think anything can fix my humiliation.
BossMan: I don’t know what the fuck happened, but I will find out.
Denial has been a terrible friend to me. I don’t have the energy to find out but I knew getting involved with James would end badly. I just didn’t anticipate this.
BossMan: Casey, please just call me and tell me you’re okay.
My hand shaking, I accidentally drop the phone. “Damn it!” Scrambling to pick it up, my uncoordinated feet kick it into a puddle of water. So much for replying. Grabbing the soaked phone between slick fingers, I wipe the now cracked screen and watch the damn thing go dark. Everything in the last thirty minutes of my life seems to have gone to shit. I put the hopeless device back into my pocket and keep walking. How strange that what once was seemingly the beginning of something perfect is now a complete mangled wreck.
A mile later and rain has soaked my ballet flats. Damp squishing covers my feet and a chill fills my body. A deep cough comes from my chest and I cover my mouth with my icy fingertips. It would be just my luck to get sick after the shit night I’ve had. Pneumonia and a case of laryngitis would be the perfect ending–not that I anticipate having a job much longer after this.
I keep trudging along for lack of anything better to do. The area I’m walking through has few to no cabs in service, and buses often speed past bus stops in favor of safer neighborhoods. I’m an idiot for walking this way, but as distraught as I feel, getting robbed or worse hasn’t entered my mind. It should… but it hasn’t.
