Page 186 of The Illicit Play
“Your mother found an email in her spam folder today with some… photos attached.”
Mrs. Wilson looks at her husband, and Blake looks about ready to throw up.
I dart around her parents and rush to her side, knowing exactly what this is about. She told me about her last text exchange with Cleo, lying against me, whispering into the darkness while I stroked her shoulder and tried not to show how badly I wanted to go to Chicago and pay Cleo a visit.
“Photos?” Wily face goes rock hard.
“You don’t want to see them.” Mr. Wilson shakes his head, giving his daughter a pained frown.
She watches him from across the room, her shoulders slumping. “I did warn you they might be coming. I told you not to look.”
“Couldn’t help myself.” Mr. Wilson sniffs, rubbing a hand across his mouth.
Blake’s expression buckles, her eyes glassing with tears. I reach for her hand, curling my fingers around hers as she sniffs and murmurs, “I’m sorry. I really lost my way there for a minute.”
Her mother lets out a light scoff, bulging her eyes,and I can only imagine what the images gave away. Blake told me about a few, and even I cringed as she described beer-covered nipples at a rock concert.
“But you’re finding your way back.” Satch’s soft voice is so kind and sweet, her smile a perfect match. “And you’re doing great.”
Blake’s lips curl with gratitude while Mr. Wilson darts a look at Wily’s girlfriend. It’s clear he doesn’t want her having a say in this, but I’m fucking stoked.
Giving my girl’s hand a squeeze, I add to Satch’s assurances. “You are, Bee. Those photos are part of your past. It’s done now. Cleo can’t hurt you anymore.”
“She’ll still have more photos. What if she posts them online?”
“Then we’ll take action. She can’t go posting that kind of shit anywhere.”
Blake sniffs and nods. “I guess she has access to the people I want to see it the least, so she’s still winning.”
“No, she’s not,” Wily growls. “We won’t let her.”
“And you’re not letting her blackmail you anymore.” I give her a proud smile. “She can send any photo she wants now, because?—”
“They will be deleted every time they hit their inbox.” Wily points at his parents. “Right?”
Mr. and Mrs. Wilson suck in their breaths, then nod.
“Of course.” Mrs. Wilson gives her daughter a stiff smile.
“Can’t believe you looked at them, Mom.” Wily winces. “Seriously, what were you thinking?”
“They were right there, and I just…” She blinks and shakes her head.
“They have been deleted.” Mr. Wilson slides his handdown his wife’s back and tucks her against him. “And I’ve sent a very strongly worded email to this Cleo person and told her to cease and desist or she’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”
“Good,” Wily mutters, darting a quick glance at Blake before biting his lips together.
Oh yeah, there’s plenty more to say, but I’m grateful he’s not launching into some kind of rant about how this should have been dealt with weeks ago. Blake’s already stressed enough and doesn’t need more shit piled on top of her. She’s working through it; they just need to let her do it at her own pace.
“We just… ah…” Mr. Wilson looks at his daughter. “We want to make sure you don’t get ‘lost’ again, so we thought we’d come up and talk about what you want to do with your future.” Walking into the dining room, he brings back two spare chairs and sets them down across from her. I hold my breath as her parents sit down and look at her expectantly.
Blake’s fingers clench mine, and I can feel her body coiling with tension.
“Now that Chicago’s out, we’ve been looking at other options for you,” Mr. Wilson begins, glancing at his wife, who nods and smiles. “We were thinking?—”
“Stop.” Blake raises her hand. “You don’t need to think for me anymore. I’m working this out on my own.”
Their mouths drop open while my insides hitch with pride.
