Page 34 of Last First Time
I look at my screen and see I have eighty-six text notifications. What the heck? I scan through the first few and figure out that everyone who has ever had my number is texting me about the photographs on the news.
Wow. Guess I’m overdue to look and see what actually happened. I pull up the local news station and find the story right away. I open up the link and the screen fills up with my own O face. Well, so there it is. The story indicates that there were multiple other photographs from an anonymous source. The bulk of the photos are apparently of Reed, and the story goes on about possible impeachment proceedings due to misuse of government property.
Because we did it on his desk. And some sleezeball photographed us doing it on his desk.
Immediately, I want to disappear. I’ve always done my best to keep my private life as quiet as possible, but it’s really a moot point because I’ve basically been in the land of battery-operated boyfriends since the relationship disaster known as Jeffrey. And nobody other than my credit card company cares about how many vibrators I own.
“Stupid,” I yell, smacking my hands against the steering wheel. The loud noise of the horn makes me jump, and so I hit the dumb thing again. Take that, noisy inanimate object.
“Why am I so freaking stupid?” I keep smacking things in the car indiscriminately. I’m probably going to break something if I don’t stop, but I am so angry and freaked out that the only thing that seems to help is hitting things and making lots of noise.
Also, my face is wet because I am apparently crying. Like it isn’t bad enough that everyone I have ever known has now seen me deep in the throes of passion, I’ve also apparently ruined Reed’s career. Wasn’t I supposed to be helping with the relationship photo ops? I completely shit the bed on that assignment.
The people quoted in the news article are completely outraged. Great. Looks like Reed’s campaign is going up in flames. And I’ll bet a million of Reed’s dollars that the evil senator is the person behind all this.
It seems like something he would do, in his conniving weasel sort of way. Also, it would explain how and why Reed ended up beating the crap out of the man earlier today. Poor, stupidly honorable Reed. He is completely that man who would think that he has to fight another man for me, even when the bad guy in question has already proven himself to be a low-down, sneaky piece of politician.
I take a deep breath and finally close the news story. I can’t bring myself to even glance at the comments on that thing. I feel raw, like a walking open wound.
I pull out some napkins and scrub at my face, but it only makes the whole mess worse. I need to go wash my face and have a stiff drink. Well, I need to change my name and move to a country where nobody has ever seen me and Reed’s sexy photos, but one of those ideas seems much more reasonable than the other.
I try calling Thom again, but the call goes straight to voicemail. With any luck, he’s with Reed now and getting him out of jail. Abernathy had made it sound like it wasn’t going to be a big deal because of Reed’s status and monetary situation, especially coupled with his completely spotless background. Reed is the kind of person who’s never even gotten a parking ticket. He’s basically Captain America, if Captain America wore better clothes and liked things a little dirty in the bedroom.
Well, with the situation being this way, I definitely am not going down to the jail. I need to go home and not talk to anyone else tonight. I can always catch up with Reed tomorrow.
But wait, if people are giving our entire relationship the hard side eye, maybe it would be better if I didn’t catch up with him tomorrow. Maybe I need to give him a wide berth, allow him to shift the blame for this whole naughty photo thing to me and then climb back to the top of the mayoral race.
I still can’t believe how quickly our small-town mayoral election has gone dirty, but I guess in these modern days, it isn’t unheard of. And Brian von Esrington has a reputation for dirty politics, so I guess we should have seen it coming. But we both thought he made his strike with the ridiculous photo montage, trying to make Reed out as a party boy. It didn’t occur to either of us that he would spy on us or photograph us now.
With Abernathy working on Reed’s case, I feel certain he’ll be out of jail and back in the palace by tonight. Thom is one of the smartest people I’ve ever known, even clerking for some hoity toity judge in federal court, which is apparently a big deal amongst his type.
I don’t want to make things any worse for Reed than they already are. I think back to what I told my parents, about Reed Harrington IV existing in a different world from me, living by a different set of rules. He’s probably sitting politely in some little office filling out paperwork about how he defended my honor or something, and meanwhile, I’m having a screaming breakdown and smashing up my car.
It’s a small miracle that nobody has called the cops about my freak out tantrum. Well, that or the three plus acres that Reed’s palace is situated on.
The short version is that I am a different class of person from Reed. I’m not his type, and I don’t have a clue as to how to behave in his world. Obviously.
None of those Mitzi or Buffy type girls ever had their picture taken looking so wanton, so outright slutty. Everybody knows that rich women aren’t supposed to enjoy sex. They’re supposed to lie back and think of England or something.
But the pictures of me, those showed a deep, dark sort of pleasure. Like the bitterness of a dark chocolate slowly dissolving on the tongue, a little touch of pain to offset the sweetness. I shiver. I remember when Reed put that look on my face, his thrusts fierce and relentless, claiming me and making me his.
We all know what kind of woman that makes me. Everyone is saying as much by now. I’m nothing but trash, a depraved woman who lured a good man into bed and ruined his career.
With my business now dead in the water, and my very existence ruining Reed’s career, it’s past time for me to go.
I’ll take as much as I can carry with me in a suitcase or two, and then I’m going to leave Valentine behind me for good.
Reed
The LaGrange County Jail is cold and smells like urine. At first, I figure the stench is probably only in the initial cell, which is crowded and houses at least two deeply inebriated individuals who have visibly soiled themselves. But later, after I’ve had my mug shot taken and my fingerprints recorded, I get taken to a different, smaller cell that is also cold and smells like urine. This time, there’s no one in there but me.
“Not your usual accommodations, is it, Mister Mayor?” The cop who locks the door behind me gives me a smart aleck-y grin. I can’t tell whether he’s mad at me or trying to make light of a truly shitty situation.
“Correct. I usually prefer my bedding without the bodily fluid stains.” I force a smile, feigning geniality. I am still so angry at von Esrington that if I get out of here now, I’ll probably try to kill him. Maybe it is for the best that I’m being kept caged up here like the animal I am.
The police officer nods. “Schmidt told me that the guy you took a swing at was trying to make money off some naughty pictures of your girl.”
My eyes flick to the camera in the corner of the hallway, then back to the man talking to me.
