Page 51 of Without Judgment

He suddenly appeared uneasy, making me realize something.

“Wait. Do you have it?”

“One of my guys is a video expert. I’m having him analyze it, see if we can gain some clues about where it was done and who is in it. Sometimes there’s a digital footprint. Your father won’t give you the copy, I’m afraid.”

“But you could.”

“I could, but I won’t. There’s no reason to upset you further.”

I fought the disappointment that Mason was now treating me like a child, too. Then again, hadn’t he made it clear the assignment came first? So much for our newfound friendship.

“Thanks for thinking you know what’s best for me.” I got up abruptly and put my food in the sink, having lost my appetite. “Good night.”

“Avery, wait.”

I stopped, a glimmer of hope flickering that he might say something redeeming.

“We’ll figure something out.”

In other words, he’d try to figure them out for me. I simply turned without saying another word. He was on my father’s payroll, so I shouldn’t feel disappointed he’d act like it. Yet I was. But instead of getting down about it, I felt even more motivated to figure out something for myself. Something I could contribute rather than have my life unfold as a movie I was only there to watch.

***

The next morning, I woke up determined. Hadn’t the self-help books I’d been reading taught me to take responsibility for my own happiness? I was a Rocky song away from taking a long run up some stairs. I was immediately tempted to search out Mason to share my plan but then remembered yesterday.

He wasn’t on my side. If he had been, he would’ve given me a copy of the video. Which meant I was on my own for my plan. First step was a phone call. Easy enough.

But now I had to come up with a strategy to lose my assigned detail. Otherwise, I’d be unable to execute the most important step. Turned out Mason made it easy for me. Instead of him, I found a stranger in the foyer who looked as if he’d been waiting for me.

“Hello, Ms. Avery. My name is Ricardo. Mason is meeting with your father at his office in Houston this morning, so I’ll be here again today. They both thought it best you stay at the house until they return this afternoon.”

Did they, now? I gave him a small smile. I never did meet him yesterday, having spent the day hiding in my room. “I agree. I should stay home. Are you hungry? I’m planning to fix breakfast.”

“No, ma’am, but thank you.”

Ricardo appeared about the same age as me, clean-cut, and wearing a dark suit paired with a crisp white shirt. He was cute and seemed sweet. I almost felt bad I would have to ditch him.

But the last thing I needed was for my dad to know what I was up to. Or my bodyguard. Because he would just tell my father.

At least Mason had been right about one thing last night. I must stop underestimating myself. Instead I needed to empower myself to make some of my own decisions. That started today.

After eating breakfast, I headed back upstairs, where I left the television on in my room in case Ricardo was listening. Then I snuck out my window. Juvenile yes, but an act I’d practiced often over the years. My brother and I used to climb out and meet on the roof to look at the stars when we were younger. We’d imagine my mother as one of them. Of course, it had been easier to do when I wasn’t wearing a dress or carrying heels in a bag. But I was able to scale over to the pool area, shimmy down the arbor, and drop onto the back patio. From there, I ran out front and met the Uber waiting outside of the gate.

Whew.

Thirty minutes in traffic later, my driver dropped me off in front of a tall building in downtown Houston, only a few blocks away from my father’s office. The thought of him discussing me with Mason served to make me even more determined to take control of my own life.

I took the elevator to the twenty-fifth floor. There, a receptionist ushered me back immediately through a posh, tastefully decorated space to the office of Julia Marx. She was a reputed shark in the PR world and had handled hundreds of celebrities, including a few who’d had their own sex scandals. Thankfully, she’d taken my call first thing this morning. Guess my notoriety worked in my favor these days.

“Hi, Avery. Lovely to meet you in person. Would you care for something to drink?”

Julia was a beautiful woman, probably pushing fifty but owning it like a rock star. She was in an expensive designer suit with heels to match. Her hair, blond like mine, was perfectly tamed in what I’d called ‘newscaster hair.’

“Uh, water would be great.” I took a seat at her small conference table and gave her my full attention. Part of taking control of my life was to ensure my voice was heard. I loved my father, but his days of speaking for me—or having his people do so—were over.

The water was delivered and Julia asked, “Tell me what it is I can do for you.”

“I need a strategy. As I shared on the phone this morning, it’s not me on that video with my ex. He’s lying.”

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