“I never emailed the video. I’d remember that. And I don’t even know how I could have done that by accident.”
“Because you didn’t do it. Think…did anyone else have access to your phone that weekend? You said no, but…”
I tilted my head, thinking. “Well, I was showing some pictures I’d taken of the Iron Man panel. I’d gotten a front row center view of Robert Downey Jr. and snapped a bunch of pics of him. The girls wanted to see.”
“Okay...so you held the phone while they looked at the pics?”
I searched my memory. We’d been in the back of a carpool van riding home from the Con. The girls had been oohing and ahhing about how hot RDJ was. “Well, you know, I handed the phone around...”
Her eyes narrowed. “And the video was in that same group of photos?”
“I guess…I took tons of pictures that weekend.” I frowned, trying to remember. “Hell, I was so hungover all weekend, I don’t even know if I could remember my name. But my phone locks with my thumbprint. No one had access to it.”
Sid raised her dark brows. “You are way too trusting of your friends, April. Because someone did find that video and emailed it to themselves from your phone.”
My eyes squeezed shut as I froze in panic. “Oh shit. I remember now…Cari wanted to see the photos again. She took the phone out of my hand. But she only had it for like a minute or two.”
Sid nodded to the piece of paper she handed me. “That email is an anonymous address, but it’s attached to a Twitter and a Tumblr account. I did some Googling, some cross-referencing. It wasn’t easy because she covered her tracks as much as she could, but…the accounts are linked to Cari MacFerson’s social media. In that two minutes that she had your phone in her hands, she emailed the video to herself from your phone. When she got home, she downloaded it to her computer and then uploaded it to the Internet. After it had been shared around, she deleted the original copy. But by then, it had gone viral.”
Shock made it hard to breathe, freezing my insides cold. “Fucking bitch.”
“Yeah…that. I’m not even going to argue with your potty mouth.”
I couldn’t sleep that night. I was exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally, yet I still couldn’t sleep. And it wasn’t because of the tumultuous revelations between my dad and me. It wasn’t even because of my pure blinding range toward Cari.
It was over him.
The way that Jordan had so callously brushed aside what had happened between us. I didn’t ask for that little encounter to be recorded and uploaded to the Internet. That’s all on you.
It was all on me. It was true. But I’d expected something from him. Something more. And maybe that hadn’t been fair, either.
Just because I loved him didn’t mean those feelings were reciprocated, no matter how much I wanted them to be. I’d told him how I felt. In return, he’d pushed me against the wall and had his way with me. And I’d let him.
It was just sex. He’d told me that over and over again. Why had my stupid heart not listened? Stupid, stupid April. You’ve fucked up. Yet again. And you can’t even blame alcohol for this one.
But somewhere, deep inside, I knew that this, too, would pass. Broken hearts would mend. Sure, it hurt like hell now and I’d need time and distance. Come to think of it, taking a trip to Israel didn’t sound so bad right about now. I drifted off to sleep for about an hour or two before dawn with the image of myself standing before the Wailing Wall, atoning for my sins. Maybe Rebekah was right. Maybe I did need to find out more about that part of myself. Maybe the blessing in return would be a healed heart.
And then I could turn my back on all of this and forget.
Chapter 26
Jordan
It was just after noon on Sunday in New York City. The officers and their respective partners—those of us who had them, anyway— had chartered a private flight from LA early this morning, and we were now at a private affair in an exclusive restaurant that looked out over Central Park. Company officers mingled with potential board members and investment bankers, all celebrating the imminent listing of Draco Multimedia Entertainment. On Monday morning, we’d gather on a special platform at the New York Stock Exchange while the CEO of the newest publicly traded company rang the bell to open trading.
It was the realization of a dream I’d had since the day Adam and I had gotten together over coffee one weekend and he’d told me he wanted to start his own company. He’d asked for my help, and that’s exactly what I gave him. I’d worked tirelessly for the past four years so that this day would come to fruition. Everything I’d done, every connection I’d made and every meticulous record I’d kept was geared toward the audits that a board would eventually want, with the sole purpose of taking the company public and thus becoming ridiculously rich.