“Hey, Mom.” Jordan shuffled into the kitchen in his Musketeers T-shirt and jersey shorts that hung around his knees.
“I’m making French toast!” Heather looked over, expecting applause, but Jordan was reaching for the pot of brewed coffee in the machine.
“Good, thanks.”
“I even have powdered sugar for the top.” Heather’s mood was too good to be brought down that easily, like a balloon that refused to pop.
“Great.” Jordan set his phone on the counter, reached into the cabinet for a mug, and then filled it with coffee. Just then, a text alert sounded on his phone, and Heather glanced over, reflexively. The text was from Evan, and it read sharing is caring—underneath a photo of a woman who was completely nude from shoulder to thigh. Her face wasn’t showing, but her breasts and private parts were crudely exposed.
“Jordan! What is that?” Heather almost dropped the fork. “Evan is sending you naked pictures?”
“Mom, wait.” Jordan reached for the phone, but Heather grabbed it first and went to the table, where the light was better. The photo was like something out of Playboy, but a real girl. She had a small dream-catcher tattoo on her side.
“Jordan, what is going on here? Is this a girl Evan knows? Do you know this girl?”
“I don’t know, I never got one of these from him.”
“One of these? What does that mean?”
Jordan flushed. “I heard that sometimes he sends pictures to the guys on the team.”
“Are you kidding me?” Heather felt shocked. She’d seen this on Dr. Phil. “Do you swear he never sent a naked picture before?”
“I swear. It’s a group text to the team. I was never on it before. Mom, you don’t need to freak.”
“Yes I do! This is terrible! This is wrong!” Heather felt disgusted. She had been happy that Jordan had become friends with Evan, but no longer.
“The girl sent it to him—”
“I don’t care! Two wrongs don’t make a right. She shouldn’t be doing that, but she doesn’t expect him to send it around!” Heather tried to calm down. “I mean, how does this even happen, like, how does it work? How did you get this picture?”
“Mom, guys do it. It happens—”
“How. Does. It. Happen?”
“Well, she probably sent it to him by Snapchat or she texted it to him.”
“What is Snapchat again?” Heather couldn’t keep up.
“Snapchat is when you send a picture to somebody, and it disappears.”
“A picture, like a sext? This is a sext, isn’t it? I heard about that.”
Jordan half-smiled. “Okay, yes it is.”
“And if you send it by Snapchat, it disappears?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have Snapchat?”
“Yes, but I never use it.” Jordan rolled his eyes.
“Good.” Heather felt a little better. “Okay, so why does Evan still have it if it was on Snapchat? Why didn’t it disappear?”
“Either he took a screenshot of it or she didn’t send it on Snapchat. She could have texted it to him. Mom, chill.” Jordan put up his hands like he was being robbed. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll delete it, okay? Now can I please have my phone?”
“You wait one minute.” Heather went back in the kitchen, grabbed her phone, and before Jordan could stop her, she took a picture of the sext.
“Why are you doing that?”
“I want proof. This is outrageous.” Heather wasn’t exactly sure of the answer. It seemed like something a good mother would do, and she wasn’t falling short anymore.
“Mom, it’s not, everybody does it.”
“You don’t, do you?” Heather was pretty sure he was still a virgin.
“No, of course not.”
“Jordan, I never want you to do this. Even if a girl sends you a picture like this, I don’t want you to send it to anybody else. It’s wrong. It’s embarrassing. It’s probably even illegal.”
“Okay, Mom, whatever, can I have my phone?” Jordan held out his hand.
“Do you think Evan’s parents know that he’s sending pictures like that? Because if you were doing that, I’d want the mother to tell me. I should call her, right now.”
“Mom, please, no, don’t.” Jordan’s eyes flared.
“I think I should, I think I have to.” Heather dreaded calling Mindy and telling her that her son was a dirtbag, which wasn’t going to ingratiate her with the Winners’ Circle. She didn’t know if Mindy would believe her or if she would be furious with her. The messenger always got shot, didn’t they?
“Mom, don’t call his mother. Please, that would be so embarrassing.”
“For who? For you? You shouldn’t be embarrassed. He should be embarrassed.”
“But Mom, Evan will be so pissed at me.”
“And Evan will be in trouble if I don’t. Which is worse?”
“Oh man.” Jordan sighed, walking around to his seat at the table.
“I can’t do nothing about this, Jordan. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t see it.”
Jordan sighed again. “Can we eat?”
“Damn!” Heather turned to the stove, but the French toast was already burned.
Chapter Thirty-five
Chris pulled up in front of the modern A-frame that looked like a European ski lodge, set off by itself on one of the wooded hilltops outside of Central Valley. He parked, cut the ignition, and got out of his car at the same moment as Dr. McElroy emerged from her Subaru, struggling because of her orthopedic boot.
“Oh my, I’m not doing very well,” she said, leaning on the car.
“Let me help you.” Chris went to her side.
“Thanks. I forgot that they have this damn hill.”
“Not to worry.” Chris took Dr. McElroy’s arm and guided her up a gravel walking path that wended up in a gentle curve. Massive evergreens flanked the path and surrounded the house. “This is a major house, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Jamie owns a real estate company. He does very well for himself, and he and Abe designed the house together and had it built. It’s quite something.”
“It sure is.” Chris wanted to pump her for information because the newspapers had no details about Abe’s suicide. “I’m sure it’s going to be hard for Jamie to live in a place they designed together.”