No Regrets Page 14

  “Do you want to press charges?” Henry asks. “You can. It happened on campus, so you can go to the campus police. I’m not defending Jackson, but this doesn’t seem like his kind of thing. He’s a bit of a frat douche, but in general, he’s an okay guy.”

  “Is he still denying it?” I ask.

  “Yeah and we don’t have any proof.”

  “I don’t know about pressing charges. The whole thing was idiotic. It’s not like I got hurt or anything.”

  “Only because we were watching out for you. And that’s not really the point, Pip.”

  I never thought Henry Fletcher and Tate Christensen would be my guardian angels, but they’d proved themselves several times over. Of course, Tate has a streak of the devil in him. Maybe he’s more like a fallen angel or something.

  “Tate reported it to the fraternity, but they’ll keep it low profile unless you report it also.”

  “I’d rather forget it.”

  He nods, his blue eyes holding mine. “I’m okay with that. Except for one part.”

  “Only one, because there are so many gems,” I groan. “We’ve got the trashy bikini? The girl-on-girl kissing? The way I rubbed up on you like a cat in heat.”

  “Those were all fairly memorable, but no.”

  I rack my brain trying to remember the details of that night. Nothing specific comes to mind. “I can’t remember.”

  “You will,” he says, kissing me on the forehead and walking across the pool to get in his chair. He blows the whistle and all the kids hovering on the edge of the pool jump in.

  Tate passes me on the way to office. “Any word from Lisa?” I ask.

  “Not really. I know she served him with papers and he was pretty upset. She took the kids and went to stay with her sister for a while.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “Texas.”

  “Oh.”

  He walks off, his shoulders a little more hunched than normal. He misses her, which is weird, but I look over at Henry and think about how falling in love never comes when you expect it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Did you get your confirmation for class registration?” I ask Henry. We’ve just pulled into the parking lot at the indoor pool. Cindy called and asked me to come in after work.

  “Not yet, I’ll check my email when we get back home.”

  ‘Home’ means his apartment, which we’ve somehow nested in over the last couple of weeks. The party on the Fourth bonded us. Unlike Tyler, Henry isn’t scared off by my public humiliation. If anything, I think he wants me more. So, his bed has become my bed. My laptop has become his and somewhere in between we share an assortment of socks, T-shirts and pillows. My hairbands litter his dresser top and he bought the kind of toothpaste I like and left it in the bathroom. The only downside is I haven’t seen Josh and Tricia much, but something has to give, I guess.

  “You coming in?”

  “Nah, I’ll wait. Probably a better idea since Cindy doesn’t know about us yet.” Although this is true, I have a feeling his desire to stay in the car has more to do with his new habit. We’d made an agreement to stop smoking and drinking after the party. His addictive personality picked up video games. I futilely try to write. His current game of choice is something about world building that has zombie pigs. I can’t even pretend to be interested.

  I leave the air conditioned car and step into the late July heat. It’s sweltering, and I’ve started to sweat by the time I reach the front door. The lobby is air conditioned but I have to leave that for the stifling pool deck before I manage to cool down. I spot Cindy at her desk.

  “Hey,” I say, entering her office.

  “Zadie. Thanks for coming in.”

  “Sure.” I sit in the chair across from her desk. “What’s going on?”

  She taps her pen loudly on the desk. “I don’t really know how to say this, but I received a complaint about your behavior at work.”

  A feeling of unease settles in my stomach. “A complaint? From who?”

  “It was anonymous. Someone called in yesterday and said that you were often inappropriate with the other guards.”

  “Inappropriate how?”

  “Overly friendly. They said it seemed like it was possible you were engaging in a relationship with both Tate and Henry. During pool hours.”

  I shake my head and lie. Well, halfway. “No. That’s not true.”

  “They also suggested that you came to work on your days off and not only were flirty with the guys but also with some of the male members.”

  “What?” I’m floored. Who would say such a thing? “Cindy, I promise you, none of that is true.”

  “I thought it seemed ridiculous as well. On my visits to the pool everything has seemed fine and there have been no other complaints. I said as much to the caller.” She glances over at her computer and types on the keyboard. “Then I received these in an email.”

  She turns the computer in my direction and I nearly jump at the image on the screen. I’m standing over the edge of the pool in a barely there bikini talking to Lisa’s husband. It’s from the day Josh dared me to hook up with Henry at work. If Cindy had been there she would know that nothing was going on between Eric and I, but the photo, out of context, looks damming. I’ve got my chest out and my hands on my hips. I’m bent over so I could hear him better at the time. I pretend not to see the post-changing room flush on my cheeks.

  “Who sent this?”

  “I don’t know. There’s no real name on the account,” she says. “I assume it’s from the same person that called. You have to admit, Zadie, you look a little inappropriate here.”

  “He was the one talking to me and to be honest, he made me feel a little uncomfortable.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. I want to argue that he’d threatened me but that opens a whole other can of worms for me, Henry and Tate. “He just made me feel weird. Just the things he said, but I decided not to make a big deal about it.”

  The truth is getting increasingly muddled, while at the same time everything became crystal clear. I had started to form a suspicion that Eric was behind this phone call, and now the email also. He’d mentioned turning me into my boss that day. “But whatever he thinks was going on, it’s not true. I promise it was nothing. It was my day off and I told my roommate we could go hang out. That guy, Eric, was the one that approached me.”

  Cindy closes the page and turns the computer away. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I need you to be careful. We don’t have a co-worker dating policy because so many of you guys are students and I’m not stupid. I do expect you to act professional. If anything is going on between any of you, make sure it’s not at work. And no dating members. There’s a zero tolerance on that.”

  I feel a flash of guilty anger. Guilt because I’m not innocent in all of this. Anger because I’m the one getting called in here, not the guys, even though this is Tate’s fault. I’m getting the heat because some jack-off has decided to mess with me. I bite back any arguments and nod. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but it won’t happen again.”

  She gives me a sympathetic grin. “I’m sure it will be fine. You’re a good worker, Zadie. It’s just my responsibility to bring this type of stuff up.”

  “I know. Thanks for being understanding.”

  I make it outside before I start crying. The hot air dries the tears before they even make it down my cheeks, which is good because I feel like an idiot. Keeping my head down, I hop in the passenger seat.

  He stows his phone in the cup holder and looks over. “That was fast,” he says, and then does a double take. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  A surge of anxiety swells in my body and I can’t speak. I can’t do it. Henry’s eyes widen and he reaches out, taking my hand. “Hey, take a deep breath, all right?”

  He brushes my hair over my ears and his eyes never leave my face. I focus on catching my breath. “Okay,” I say, shakily. �
��That bastard, Eric, sent Cindy a photo of me talking to him at the pool. I’m standing there in my bikini looking like I’m hitting on him or something. He also sent an email saying I was being inappropriate with you and Tate at the pool.”

  Henry blinks once and his jaw pulls tight. “He sent it?”

  “Well, it was sent anonymously. It would have to be him, right? He threatened he’d do this.”

  “Probably.”

  Henry pulls out of the parking lot and we head toward the apartment. “I hate this. I hate feeling on the defensive like this. I hated lying to Cindy, but for some reason I’m still covering for Tate.”

  “You can stop that any time you want,” he says.

  “I know. It’s just that we only have a couple weeks left anyway.”

  We get out of the car. Henry waits for me at the sidewalk and engulfs me in a hug. “It’s bullshit, Zadie. Cindy was cool with it so you need to just let it drop. She’s not going to show that photo to anyone and like you said, we’ve got a couple of weeks left. It’s no big deal.”

  I take another deep, settling breath. “You’re right.”

  We head in the apartment. No one is home but the two of us. Henry stops me at his door and kisses me. “Wanna make out?”

  I laugh, because yeah, duh. “Let me check for my class schedule confirmation email first, okay?”

  “Will you check mine?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sitting at his desk, I check my email and find the confirmation letter. Then I open his email and scroll down. There aren’t many messages, but I do see the University’s email. “All good,” I say. “You want to look at these other messages before I shut down?”

  “Sure, yeah, bring it over here.”

  I carry the laptop over and set it on the bed. Henry leans over and clicks a couple of buttons. “What’s this?” he mutters. I look up just in time to see a Tumblr account open. The title at the top says, “Tit for Tat.” A thin banner sat at the top of two perky, tan boobs in a black and gold marijuana leaf bikini.

  “Oh God.”

  He scrolls down, both of us silent other than the mouse and a photo of myself pops up. A photo I’ve never seen before but that was obviously taken at the pool this summer. I’m in my guard suit, hands on my hips.

  “What the hell is that?” I ask. Sweat coats my palms.

  “I don’t know.”

  He continues scrolling and there are more and more photos. Some with Henry. Others with Tate. The pictures are all from far away, like paparazzi shots. Each one has me in it but the theme is clear. I’m a whore. I get around. It’s not just Tate and Henry. Shots of me and Charlie hugging at Motorhead and one of Josh tugging playfully at my shorts outside the apartment. There’s even a couple of me talking to Jackson—including one from the Fourth of July that looks like we’re kissing.

  One thing that stands out is that my face is clear and visible, while the guys have been blocked out with a black bar through the eyes and the word “victim” typed across. I know who it is and so does Henry.

  “I wasn’t kissing him,” I say, my voice high and panicky. “He wiped a mosquito off my cheek.”

  Henry squeezes my leg. “I know, babe. I was there.”

  His reassurance doesn’t help and the next image is a video. “Click it,” I say, feeling sick to my stomach.

  “You don’t have to,” he says.

  “Do it.”

  I brace myself as the video plays. It’s from Elton, when I fell off the bar. I’ve seen it a dozen times but Henry hasn’t. I cover my face when I fall ass up in my dress. “When was this?” he asks.

  “Elton. Last year.”

  The You Tube history shows that there are more videos uploaded to this account and I grab the mouse and click on the next one. The familiar tune of “I Kissed a Girl” by Katy Perry starts up and images of me and Shelly lip-locked appear. We’re both in wet bikinis, strained provocatively across our chests. I barely remember the moment but I look like I’m enjoying it. In one photo Shelly palms both my breasts, fondling them and I’ve got a shit-eating grin on my face. “It looks like a fucking Girls Gone Wild video.”

  Henry says nothing. God, he’s stunned silent.

  I move the mouse and go back to the original email. “Oh shit,” I cry. “Whoever sent this sent it to dozens, no hundreds, of people. Maybe the entire Greek system.”

  “Zadie,” Henry says. “It’s okay. We’ll report the account and get it shut down.”

  I go back to the Tumblr and scroll down, grimacing at the images. The ones from Shelly’s Instagram account are there. Photos of me and Henry sneaking out of the changing room at the pool. Tate’s arm around my waist. Me kissing his cheek. Photo booth pictures, where my eyes are dilated the size of quarters. “Do you see these tags?”

  “Turn it off, Pip.”

  “ “Whore.” “Slut.” “Lesbian.” “Hooker.” “Druggie.” Oh and the best one, “Zadie Parker is a Home Wrecker.” Why is this up? Why did they send this out? Who is it?” I hop off the bed and Henry snatches the computer. He’s typing, I assume reporting the account, but I know from experience it’s too late. My heart lodges in my throat and I can’t breathe. I can only hear my pulse in my ears and feel my hands sweating. I eye the door and Henry must finally notice my deranged state and jumps up, reaching for my arms.

  “This is what happens,” I choke out. “This—these things—this is what happens to me when I…”

  “When you what?” His hands force my chin up, trying to get me to make eye contact. I squirm away.

  “When I push outside my comfort zone. When I drink. When I smoke. I do stupid shit and people use it against me.”

  “Zadie, that doesn’t even make sense. Eric seems pretty psycho; this isn’t about you, it’s about him.”

  “No one knows that though!” I shout. “All they will see is some stupid, slutty girl.”

  “We’ll figure out a way to get this offline. And make Eric pay. He’ll take responsibility.”

  “Henry, I’m the one who’s responsible for this. Me. I did this.”

  He reaches out but I jerk back. “Zadie you aren’t even doing anything in those photos. You’re working and hanging out. You’re kissing me. I know that other shit means nothing. I was there. It means nothing.”

  “It means something to me,” I say. “It means that once again I let down my guard and got exposed. It means that everyone thinks I’m a drunk and a druggie. Which God, maybe I am.

  “You’re not.”

  “It means I’ve lost my anonymity. Again. And this one is going to follow me, Henry. I thought I’d cleaned up that last one too, that video from Elton, but there it is.” He makes another attempt to come near me but I don’t want anyone touching me right now. “I’m going upstairs.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  I shake my head. “I need a little time alone, okay? It’s a lot of,” I search for the right word. “Exposure. It’s too much exposure and I need a minute to process it all.”

  I grab my bag and frantically pick up a couple of things I’ve strewn around the room. Henry blocks me at the door and forces me into his arms. “Remember when I told you only one thing mattered to me about that night?”

  I fight back tears and nod. “Yes.”

  “I love you. And you love me. And that’s all I give a fuck about, okay?”

  He locks my eyes with his and it’s a struggle to get away, but I need to. I need to lock myself in my room and sort all this out. I lower my eyes and push him aside, bolting out of the apartment before I fall apart.

  *

  Cindy doesn’t question me when I call in sick. I can only assume she got the second email. At least she doesn’t fire me. I explain that I have the flu or something and that it could be days until I come back. She sounds relieved.

  Josh and Tricia were in the living room when I got home watching one of their shows. One look and I knew they’d seen the email.

  “Are you okay?” Josh asks, tentatively, like
he knows if he pushes me I may break. He knows me well.

  “Not really.”

  “Want to talk about it?” he asks.

  “What’s there to say? I look like a fucking idiot. Whoever sent it made sure everyone knew that.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Tricia says.

  “Really? It’s not? Let me know the next time someone tries to fuck with your life, okay?”

  I leave them to their stupid show about ghosts or Bigfoot or whatever and collapse in my bed. I spend the afternoon and evening holed up in my room, obsessively checking social media for anything about me.

  Josh comes in without invitation at some point bearing candy. He stops short when he sees me hunched over the laptop. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  He moves closer. “Step away from the computer, Zadie.”

  “I’ve gotten 73 friend requests on Facebook this afternoon.”

  “Shut it down. Close your account.”

  “What, and deprive people of the freakshow?”

  He wrenches the laptop out of my hands. “You need to delete your accounts and stop digging around for trouble.”

  I can’t admit I’m addicted to checking and seeing what people are saying about me. He knows it anyway and walks out, leaving me a bag of chocolate and no computer.

  The next day I made a short list of places I could move to. I’d have to bail on school for the fall. Maybe I should go overseas, backpack through Europe. I’d check for prices but Josh hasn’t returned my laptop yet.

  “I’m meeting some friends for pizza, you want to come?”

  I glance up and see Tricia in the door. It’s the first time she’s spoken to me since I holed up. “No.”

  “You’re just going to sit here and mope all night.”

  I refuse to look up. “Yes.”

  “For how long? How long is this going to last? Another week? Do you plan on transferring to a different school? Running home?”

  Busted. Still, I refuse to take her bait. “Where’s Josh?”

  “Why? So you can get him to save you again? Fix all your issues? Or is that Henry’s job now?”