Page 75 of Of Light and Dark

Kellan J: Fuck off!

I answerthe incoming video chat on the second monitor on my desk. "Hey, you're up early." I lace my greeting with innocence, even though I have the urge to bounce in my seat.

"That was you, wasn't it?" Rhys stares at me with a crooked grin. His voice is still raspy from sleep, hair sticking up in all directions, and he's shirtless.

Licking my lips, I trail down his chest to his muscled stomach that's peeking out from the comforter. A whole new sensation stirs inside of me, and I press my thighs together. What I wouldn't give to be able to—

"Calla!"

My eyes snap up. "Yes?"

"Up here." He circles his face but doesn’t hide his satisfaction at me ogling him. "Admit it. You're responsible for this shitstorm."

I shrug casually. "If you mean Katherine Rosenfield's coming out announcement... Yep, that would have been me." I finally let the glee show and clap my hands like a lunatic.

Rhys shakes his head, laughing. "How the fuck did you get those pictures? And that video?" The awe in his tone makes me draw my shoulders back. Not that I had anything to do with the actual recording—that's all on the Wicked Bitch herself.

"Remember when Nate mentioned he pulled all her pictures off before wiping it last week?"

"Yeah?" He cocks an eyebrow.

"That's what he found on it."

"Oh, she is so fuuuuucked!" he sing-songs.

At that moment, someone storms into Rhys's bedroom. "Bro, wake up! Did you see—? Oh, you're already awake." Wes's voice carries through the speaker.

Rhys lazily glances past the screen at his best friend. "Good morning to you, too."

Suddenly, the camera shakes, and Wes appears at the corner of the frame. He has thrown himself down next to Rhys and is now also leaning against the head of the bed.

"Holy hell, Lil! How the fuck did you do that?" Rhys turns the phone to the side so I can see the other boy better.

Pride surges through me, and the little bit of regret is forgotten. Revenge is a bitch, and Katherine Rosenfield just fell off her throne as the reigning queen. Okay, I might have shoved her off. I brush some pretend lint off my shoulder and smirk. "It's called skill, my friend."

"It's called The. Shit! Jager blew up my phone to confess. He probably thinks telling me gives him a pass from getting his ass beat," Wes cackles.

"Nah, I don't give a fuck about that," Rhys answers, bored.

"Do we know who that is in the video?" Wes looks genuinely curious.

"Elisabeth Shaw." I throw the name out and watch the wheels in both guys' heads turn. When it clicks, their eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets.

"NO WAY!" Wes shouts.

"FUCKING HELL!" Rhys rubs his hands over his face.

I shift back to my other monitor and pull up the post I published under Kat Rosenfield's name on her various social media accounts. The announcement is accompanied by a new album I copied to each platform.

I had to make sure everyone gets to see it.

The one thing I made sure of was that everyone outed was of legal age, including Katherine, when the video was taken. That’s the one reprieve I gave her.

Kat Rosenfield:

I’ve been living a lie for the last three years, and it’s time to admit to what I’ve known deep down for so long. I’m a nymphomaniac. I used Rhys McGuire to uphold an image I no longer can portray with a good conscience. To fill my life with everything I desire on a daily basis, I need to shed myself from the secrets of my past. In this post, I publicly admit to seducing every single one of the pictured individuals. However, none of these male objects have fulfilled my needs as satisfying as my dear friend and spiritual guide.

Underneath the postis an album containing twenty-seven photos and one video. Each picture displays Katherine with a different guy in various make out poses: tongue down each other's throat, the dude's hand on her boob, her hand rubbing along a guy's hard-on, some even completely naked. But the video is what tops it all. I had to watch it twice before I could believe what was playing out in front of me. I expected a lot from Rhys’s ex, but that was not it.

The four-minute film starts with Katherine in a very compromising position between a pair of female legs. Based on the moaning, Rhys's ex found a taste for what she was doing with her mouth, and the other person holding the phone seemed to agree. "Ohhh, yes, Kitty Cat. Just like that, baby. Mhmmmm." After about a minute, Katherine lifts her head, wipes at her chin, and wiggles her fingers toward the camera. The phone switches hands, and after some shuffling, the second star of the homemade porn appears on the screen between Katherine’s thighs.

That’s when I made the video stop and zoomed in on the face. Elisabeth Shaw. My former friend, Emma Shaw’s, mother.

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