Page 41 of The Interview
“Because all the charges were dropped, nobody looked at what was on the tape in the video camera. When everything that had been taken for evidence and held by the police was released, the label sent someone from their legal team to collect the boys’ stuff. Thankfully, they sent someone a little bit switched on, because when they saw the video camera was labelled as anexhibit found in the boys’ room, they claimed it as theirs and brought it back to London. Rocco threw a fit, demanded it was returned, which it was, minus the tape that was inside.”
The room spins.Please, after all these years, please, Sean, don’t break my heart all over again.
“They called me in, asked what we, the band, wanted to do with it. Musically, professionally, the band were killing it. Mentally, they were falling apart. Maca was barely hanging on. You wouldn’t talk to him, he wouldn’t talk to Marley, you wouldn’t talk to Marley. It was a shitshow, so I made the executive decision to watch the tape and decide then whether I’d show it to them or not.”
“What was on it?” Marley asks before I can.
Lennon takes a huge gulp of his drink, which has to burn.
“They assaulted him, Haley and Rocco, while he was passed out cold. They sexually assaulted him.”
“No,” I sob out the word. “No, no, no,” I repeat, turning my head into Cam’s chest as he pulls me against him.
“Girls,out!” he booms.
“Mum?” Kiki questions.
“Don’t fuck with me, girls. Out!” Cam repeats.
I hear the sound of chairs pushing back and my daughters leaving the room without further argument.
“You can hear them have a conversation about needing semen,” Len continues once they’re gone.
I turn my face from where it’s been buried in my husband’s chest and turn to look at my brother while I struggle to believe what I’m hearing.
“Then the camera gets knocked, and it’s turned towards where you and Mac are both lying on the bed.” Len’s eyes are now on Marley, as are mine and everyone else’s in the room.
“Rocco starts to undo your jeans, but Haley stops him, saying she’s already had you. Now, she wants Maca. Wants a little taste of what Georgia won’t share.”
I close my eyes at his words. It does nothing to stop the revulsion churning in my stomach.
“Rocco rolls Mac over. She undoes his jeans, reaches into his boxers, and starts stroking him. When that doesn’t work, she starts sucking him. When there’s still no reaction, Rocco has a go. When they go back to you”—Len nods towards Marley—“Maca stirs, so they stop and quickly zip yours and Mac’s jeans back up. They then come up with the plan for Haley to run out into the hallway crying rape. I don’t think they knew the camera was recording because it keeps going. You can hear Haley screaming, me coming into the room, the police arriving. It only ends when the tape runs out.”
Ash has a hold of Marley’s hand where it rests on the table. I watch as he reaches across with his other hand and holds on to her with his eyes closed.
“They didn’t touch me?” Marley asks with his eyes still closed.
“No,” Len replies with a shake of his head.
Marley opens his eyes, looks at Ash and repeats, “They didn’t touch me,” but this time it’s a statement, not a question.
I watch as silent tears stream down my brother’s cheeks, matching my own rage and revulsion, fighting for precedence inside my head. How could two people be so truly, truly vile?
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell us, show us, let us decide? Why’d you keep it from us all these years?” Marley questions, anger and hurt obvious in his tone.
“I didn’t. I told Maca. He watched it.”
“What?” I sob out the word again. “When?”
“You weren’t together. I showed him, and he told me he didn’t want to press charges, didn’t want to go public with it because it would just hurt you even more.”
“No.” My voice is almost a wail, but I don’t care. I don’t care if my daughters can hear me, don’t care what anyone thinks. “Why, why, why, why? Didn’t they do enough damage?”
“It’s what he wanted. He told me to keep the tape in case we ever needed it as evidence, but not to press charges, not to tell you, and not to tell Marley. Marls…” Len turns to look at our brother. “He was worried how it’d impact you mentally. Him keeping it from you came from a good place.”
“I get it,” Marley says, calmly, surprising me. “But I hate that he, and you, had to carry it with you. You, for all these years.” He turns to face me. “Did Mac ever tell you, say anything to you?”
“Nothing, ever,” I tell him.
