Page 114 of True Abandon

I run.

Without any further hesitation, I run to the service entrance and I don’t stop until I’m outside in the employee parking lot. I fumble with my keys as I jump into my car.

My hands are shaking. I can’t get the key into the ignition.

I can’t think.

I slam my head into the wheel and then, with a complete daze, I pull out my phone and Google his name.

It comes up on no fewer than twenty sites. Jackson Davis, the son of Virginia Senator Grant Davis, former guitarist of the band False Accusations, and song worker of the hit song “Die A Happy Man,” sent a picture of his private parts to a fourteen-year-old-girl in New Jersey last night. I know it’s only going to make matters worse, but I look on Google images, desperate to find an unblurred-out picture. I can’t find one, as all the sites are main sources. I should feel better, reassured by the fact I can’t confirm it’s him. Except, there is one thing about the photo that makes me squint my eyes and cry out in anger.

The white marble floors of the Pele suite and the sofa he is sitting on.

If I could, I’d cry. Instead, I drive off in search of answers.

I get to my apartment in a flash. I’m out of my car as soon as it’s in park and up through my apartment door in moments.

I rush into my bedroom to see Jax throwing his belongings in his suitcase. He’s violently launching items into the bags. His face is red and when his head looks up to see I’ve entered the room his eyes are wet and angry, and filled with disgust.

“How could you do this?” His voice is filled with loathing. Hs hair is standing on end like he’s been pulling on it.

I try to speak, but the accusation catches me off track.

His jaw is tight. He’s biting down so hard he may break teeth. And his eyes. Those once soft eyes are now stone like and rouge from the bitterness burning within.

He holds up his phone. “You planned this all along. From the moment I came here you’ve been plotting to do to me what I did to you.” His voice is eerily steady despite his shaking stance.

He grabs his guitar off the ground. He’s in such a rush to leave, he knocks into Olivia Benson, the little pig squealing and scurrying out of the way.

Everything is happening so fast it takes a moment o comprehend what he’s accusing me of. “You think I did his.”

“I know you wanted to get back at me, but a kid? Trish, you sent that to a fucking eighth grader. I’m being investigated. My father, who wouldn’t even visit me when I was lying in a fucking hospital, called me because his campaign is ruined.” Jax laughs. It’s sinister. “I should actually thank you for that. Give the middle finger to my father, too. Smart move.”

He barges out of the room and through the living room. I press my fingers to my temples in an attempt to figure out what the hell is happening here. He thinks I sent the pictures to his fans from his phone.

“Why the hell would I send those out?” I shout and he turns around momentarily. He starts to speak but I hold my arms up in the air. “Shut the hell up and listen to me. I didn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that. I am so unbelievable hurt you would think I could do that.”

His arms fall. His hands are still clutching onto his bags as he looks away and bites back the tears that are filling his eyes. They’re enraged tears that are desperately trying not to be shed.

He bites his lip with a quivering grip of his upper lip. “To think it’s all my fault. I have you the collateral.” He opens the door so hard it slams against the wall. “You won. You finally did the one thing to even the score. The victim has become the villain.”

He thrusts himself out the door. His guitar case and duffle nag hit the side of the walls as he leaves and walks down to a waiting car in the parking lot.

“Don’t follow him.” The voice comes from behind. I turn to Kelli who is standing in her bedroom doorway. Her hair is a matted mess and her eyes are smeared in black mascara. She looks like she’s been up all night.

“Do I even want to know?” I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Like he said. We evened the score.”

I turn around. “Oh, Kelly, no. No, no, no. I told you I didn’t want revenge. I was happy. We were happy.”

She snaps her fingers as if to pull me out of a daze. “He was very quick to blame. If he loved you he wouldn’t have thought you’d be able to do such a heinous thing.” There’s a sinister look in her stare and it’s frightening. “He’s a runner, Trish. Something goes wrong and that man is out the door faster than you can say, ‘Jack—’” Her mouth is open as she freezes. After a beat she relaxes her body and shrugs.

“He’s in trouble.” My voice is stern.

“So were you and you were just a kid. He’s a grown ass man.”

I start to pace the room. The logistics of this whole thing are overwhelming. I just don’t understand, “How did you get a picture.”