“Will you come in, and we can talk about this?” I ask in a low voice holding the door open.
There’s blood trickling on the floor.
“If I come in, I’ll smash every damn thing in your house.”
“What was it, the thrill of going after someone you shouldn’t?” He shouts, his face inches from mine. “You just couldn’t keep your dick in your pants?”
“Explain to me why shagging my sister was worth fucking up our friendship.”
“I mean what I said, I care about her.”
“Bullshit.” He hisses, his face twisted. “If you cared about her, you wouldn’t have taken advantage in the office. You wouldn’t have allowed this seedy story to come out.”
“I’m dealing with it.”
“Tristan. I’m sorry.” I say hoarsely. “I’m sorry I went behind your back. I would never deliberately hurt Charlie.”
“I took her to the Shetlands,” I add.
He does a double-take. “Why?”
“I told you why. She means something to me.”
“You look like shit.” He laughs without humour. “I hope you’re not fucking sleeping over this either.”
“I haven’t slept since I found out about the story.” He looks mildly appeased.
I stare at my oldest closest friend, my eyes begging forgiveness.
“Can we recover from this?”
“Look, just stay away for now. Stay away from me. Stay away from Charlie.” “How is she?” I ask tentatively.
He narrows his eyes. “How do you think she is? She’s in fucking bits. Crying all the time.” I close my eyes and breathe out. The thought of Charlie in pain was killing me.
Charlie
D-Day.
There’s a dull unease permanently lying in my stomach, waiting to rise up. It’s Saturday morning, and I can say I haven’t slept a full hour since Thursday.
There’s been no contact from Danny. Zero. Nada. No matter how many times I checked my phone and my emails just in case, he happened to email my work email.
I’ve almost gnawed my fingers off. My nails are bitten down to a stub. I haven’t showered in two days, and I’ve barely slept. I’m likely a walking zombie.
How do I even prepare for the melodrama that is going to unfold? Do I warn my Mum and Callie? Do I deny it? Is it true what they say- today’s news is tomorrow’s chip paper? That was fine in the world of print; now, our digital footprint stays with us for life. If anyone searches for me, they’ll see it time and time again.
My brain floods with the worst scenarios. Will it get nasty? Is Danny so angry he will try to sue me for libel?
I needed to see his face, for him to hug me and tell me it’s going to be ok, that we are stronger than this.
It’s minutes until Julie’s media departments upload their new stories. Cat and Suze are sitting on either side of me on the sofa.
Julie is on her laptop pressing refresh every 10 seconds, waiting for the site to release today’s articles. She’s going to screen how bad it is for me; we thought it best that I don’t see the trolling comments immediately once it goes live.
“It’s been released.” She says in a high pitch, and I close my eyes and summon a deep breath. Cat and Suze grab my hand on either side.
“I don’t understand,” Julie says.
I open my eyes.
“What?” I snap. “What do you not understand?”
Her eyebrows knit together as she studies the laptop screen.
“It’s you, but it’s not you.”
“What do you mean?” I lean over and grab the laptop from her.
“Your name, I can’t see it.”
I speed-read the article, which I know by heart.
It’s the same article I’ve read a hundred times in two days. Trying to find a positive spin. But something’s wrong.
I read it again and again.
“Read this,” I say to Cat and Suze. “What the hell is going on?” His name is everywhere on it.
But me? I’ve become this nameless, faceless employee.
“Oh my god.” Julie slaps a hand over her mouth. “He’s found a way to keep you out of it.” “No-one knows it’s me?” I blink. “How? How did he do it?” Relief floods into me like someone has turned on a tap.
She pauses, thinking. “It makes no sense. It’s a more lucrative story with you named.”
Her eyes widened. “He must have paid them a lot of money to keep your name out of it.”
“He protected me?” I ask in a small voice. “But why didn’t he stop the story completely?”
“I dunno.” she shrugs. “He obviously used himself as a bargaining method. Run the story but without you in it. It’s near impossible to stop a story in its tracks unless there is a threat to life. All you can do is deal with it afterwards.”
I collapse back onto the couch as two days of heart-wrenching emotions and tiredness floods me.
This ugly scandalous story is still out there for all to see with his name in it. He’ll never forgive me for this. I’m never going to be held or be kissed by him again.
“Danny, I know what you did for me.” I message. “Please talk to me.” The read message appears, and I wait. No response.
***
I know the code to the gate, so I enter it rather than buzz him to let me in. Since we started dating, he gave me the code, and I would just let myself through whenever I came around.
Now… I wasn’t so sure it was the right thing to do. It’s Sunday afternoon, a whole 24 hours since the article has come out, and he hasn’t responded to any of my messages.
But I didn’t want to have the conversation through the intercom gate. What if he didn’t let me in?
No, I needed him to see my face, to see how sorry and upset I was. To see how broken I was. So here I am, outside his door, sick with fear and nerves.
I inhale deeply and rap on the large knocker.
I’m expecting a dry husky Scottish, but the familiar female voice I hear from the hallway is ten times more terrifying.
“Is that the takeaway, babe?”
My blood runs cold when I realise whose voice I’m hearing.
The footsteps come closer to the door.
Panic rises in me, and I sprint down the steps, across the driveway, and out of the gate, the stones flying over my feet. Breathing hard, I lean back out of sight, hiding behind one of the large pillars.
Peeking out, I watch my worst nightmare as she stands in the doorway wearing Danny’s t-shirt and a pair of shirts. A t-shirt he had given me to wear.
She looks around, confused.
“Who is it?” says the familiar Scottish voice approaching the door.
I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle my cries.