Page 83 of I Did Something Bad
“Sorry for invading your privacy,” Tyler says as he opens the door, voice saturated with sarcasm. “But I was trying to contact your friends, you know, on account of you heading for jail and all, and thought maybe you hid my phone in here.” He walks into the room, sunlight streaming through the windows and illuminating every corner and item, including the whiteboard.
I straggle in behind him, every step feeling like I’m trudging through quicksand. “I can explain. Please.”
“Good,” he says with a humorless voice that makes my pulse spike. “Because I have a few questions. First off, who’s ‘golden boy’?” I open my mouth, but nothing happens. “I’m assuming it’s me, right?”
“Yes.”
“And these are… what?” He waves around at the notes. “Ideas? Brainstorm sessions?”
My voice is thick. “Yes,” I repeat.
I’m standing closer to him now and, for the first time, can see that his eyes are red. The thought of him crying alone in my apartment slashes deeper grooves across my heart. I want to reach out and hold his face, but I know that’s the last thinghewants right now.
“For theVoguestory? Or for some deal you’ve made with a tabloid?”
“Vogue.”
“Really?” Tyler asks, already walking over and pointing at the two words I wish I could go back in time and stop my past self from writing down, even if it meant cutting off her fingers. “Why does that say ‘abortion story’?” He stares me down for an answer, every one of his shields fully up. “Were you going to write about Jess?”
“No, of course not!” I blurt, finding my voice.
“Then why is it on the board?”
“Because—”
“How wouldyoufeel if I revealed a secret aboutyoursister to the whole world?”
“My…” I trail off, confusion momentarily seizing me—until I remember. My lie at our first dinner. The lie that had felt inconsequential at the time but now feels like the thing that will do me in.
He stares at me for a long beat until realization hits. “You don’t have a sister,” he says through a dark chuckle.
I swallow. “No. I don’t.”
“Why did you say that you did?”
“Because—” My voice dies out, but I dredge it back up. “I needed to get close to you. Get you to trust me.”
Tyler drags a hand down his face. He’s trying to remain calm through the storm, but as always, his mouth gives him away; right now, it’s twitching like mad, and I can only imagine everything he wants to yell at me. “What does—” He turns to the board, his jaw working as he emphasizes each syllable. “‘Doesn’t know what he wants. Not for you’ mean?” His eyes flash back at me, and I cannot remember the last time I took a breath. If I take even half a step forward, I will collapse. “That’s what you think of me? That I’m ‘not for you’? And instead I’m, what? A project? One that you’re simply laying out on a board and trying to reassemble for your article, grabbing as many pieces as you can even if it includes things I told you in confidence?”
“No, of course not. I was… Clarissa…”
At the mention of Clarissa’s name, a new emotion splays across his face. It feels like the precise millisecond where the mug you dropped makes first contact with the ground, when it hasn’t quite shattered yet, but you know the forthcoming damage is inevitable.
“What did Clarissa say?” he asks.
I take a deep breath and rip the Band-Aid off quickly. “I was trying to get a scoop on you, an exclusive. She said there were rumors—”
“Rumors?” he scoffs.
I give a stiff nod. “She said people are talking, saying that you’ve been acting a little weird, clearing your schedule for something big. That something’s going on with you and that if I could find out what it was…”
“What?” He takes one step in my direction, looking ready for battle. “What did she promise you if you could get ascoopon me? Was it another cover story? The Oscars? Fashion week? Cannes? What—” He places one palm against the wall, as if bracing himself for the answer. “—is my secret worth to you?”
What,I know he’s asking,is my trust worth to you?
What amIworth to you?
Everything,is what I want to tell him.
