In the Wake of Wanting (46 page)

“What jurisdiction do you have here?” Officer Smart asks.

“I work for the president, Officer. If you’re not willing to cooperate, I know people who will make sure you do.”

“We’ll make some calls,” Lieutenant Mills says. “No need to escalate this.”

“I’ll be making my own calls anyway.”

“I’d like to oversee the questioning,” Coley’s mom says. When the NYPD cops start to protest, a simple look from her dad shuts them both up. He’s not a bad ally to have, and he’s on my side whether he wants to be or not.

“Jackson, why don’t you put on a pot of coffee?” Dad asks as the cops and Coley’s parents leave to go ask their various questions. Danny goes into the guest room to make a phone call.

“Sure,
Grandpa
,” I say to him sarcastically. “I can run downstairs to Starbucks, if you’d like.”

“I’ll go,” my mother volunteers. “Coley, what do you like?”

“You’ll need help carrying things. I’ll come with you.” Mom looks at me and my father warily. I know what it’s like to be hounded by photographers once a newsworthy story gets out. I’ve been chased around the city on more than one occasion. I’m sure Coley has seen the evidence of it in magazine pictures, too, without realizing what an invasion of privacy it really is. She’s about to get a
huge
reality check.

“No, you stay,” Mom insists. “Danny can come with me. Just give me your order.”

“Okay. Caramel Macchiato, please. I have some cash.”

“No.” I grab her arm and shake my head, wanting her to sit down with me and my dad in the living room.

“Thank you, Mrs. Holland.”

“It’s Emi. Always Emi.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“
Still
Emi.”

“Okay,” Coley laughs. “Emi. Got it.”

“Apparently, I’m
Grandpa
,” Dad says to her, offering his hand to her. “But you can call me Jack.”

“Coley.” Her eyes are wide as she speaks to my father. “I wish I had my high school transcripts or Columbia application essay or something to give you that would allow you to see a quick summation of who I am. Something that would counterbalance anything else you may have seen.” She squints her eyes shut. I really don’t want to think about my dad watching her in that video, either.

“You’re an accomplished poet,” he says to her. “I read every word of
The Daily Wit
. I’m partial to my son’s articles, but your column is a very close second. When I saw the word
interstitial
in one of your… poeticles? Is that what you call them?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, when I saw
interstitial
, I thought, ‘What’s she going to do with that one? She’ll never come up with a rhyme that fits her story.’ And out of nowhere comes
deferential
, and somehow it flowed and was perfectly appropriate for the line. I knew you were gifted when I read that.”

“That was your second published article,” I remind her.

“Trey challenged me to use interstitial,” she explains. “It took me forty-five minutes to come up with the rhyme.”

“Half of that time was spent complaining to me about using the word in the first place, though,” I remind her.

“That’s true,” she says, laughing with me. “But it’s a great word.”

My dad watches our interaction. “I loved reading the whole thing.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Tell me more about yourself. You have a brother, right?”

“Two, actually,” she says with an easy smile. “Nyall’s two years older, and Joel is two
minutes
older.”

“You’re a twin? I’m a twin!” Dad says. “Kelly’s about six minutes younger than me,” he says. “Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah,” Coley says. “It’s like I was born with a built-in best friend. Someone to play with when I was little, someone to ask questions of when I was curious, someone to confide in when I got older. He’s always been there for me. He, um… he lost his hearing when we were eleven, so I think we became even closer then. I became his cheerleader for awhile. His voice. It definitely made me more confident; more outgoing than he is. But he’s super creative. Very intuitive and thoughtful.”

“He’s very protective of her,” I add.

“That’s an understatement. The only reason he’s not here is that he’s in Boston with a friend this weekend.”

“He’s doing his job right, then,” my father says. “He’s going to have a rough time this week.”

“How so?” she asks.

“Dating Jackson. He’s a great kid, don’t get me wrong, but because he’s a Holland, that already creates complications. At Columbia, he can lead a fairly autonomous life. Off campus, though, if word gets out that he’s anywhere, you can count on a crowd forming.

“And that’s just on a normal day. This? This isn’t a normal day,” Dad says, looking remorseful. “It’s going to be a mess. Around the city
and
on campus, unfortunately. That video spread like wildfire. Acquaintances I haven’t spoken to in years were calling me to tell me about it.” I look down as my face heats in a blush. “We’ll do everything we can to have it taken down from as many places as possible, but as we found out with Livvy when she was younger, these things never completely go away.

“Anyone who’s on your side–your parents, Jackson, Joel, Nyall, whoever–they’ll be defending your honor for a long time to come.”

“I guess I can finally be glad Nyall doesn’t get to see any news or magazines,” Coley says. “He’ll never have to think of me any differently.” I take her hand in mine and kiss the back of it. “There’s one bright side to that situation. He would be crushed.”

“It will require a lot of personal strength and character, too,” he adds. I start to think about her antidepressants and wonder if something like this will affect her.

“I feel like I’ve just brought you into a cult today,” I say to her, almost apologetically. “Coley, I want you to promise me you’ll talk to me if it gets overwhelming. I’ll do anything for you.”

She nods and smiles. “Thank you.”

“If you don’t have hoodies, you may want to invest in one or twenty,” Dad says. “The kids live in them.”

“I’ve noticed that Trey has a lot.”

“He’s so tall, he can’t really hide from anyone, but he gives it a damn good try.” I smile at him. “Tell me the truth, Jackson. When did you two start dating? I could sense you and Zaina drifting apart at Christmas. I felt it was inevitable then… but I’m not a fool. You two interact like a couple that’s been together for awhile. You as much as admitted you liked her to me before.”

“Dad, I swear. We were not involved before Zai and I broke up. We’ve just worked together all semester, so we’ve spent a lot of time getting to know one another.”

“We have… chemistry,” Coley says.

“That’s quite obvious.”

“Last night was our first real date.”

He looks into my eyes and smiles, then pats me on the leg. “I believe you.”

chapter twenty-one

It takes four hours for everyone to clear out of my apartment, including
five
investigators who swept the place and removed the camera after they checked for prints. My parents offered to take Coley’s out to lunch while Danny went to spend the afternoon combing through a week’s worth of security footage to find evidence of Evan Midland, the paparazzo who threatened me last week, somehow getting into my apartment. The building management, staff, and doormen were of no help. The fact is, people slip by all the time, riding up the elevator with other residents. It’s not the most secure building. It’s not like Liv’s building, where you have to have a special key to get to her floor–granted, Dad
owns
the floor, and he took that safety measure himself.

It was my choice to rent while I’m in college, and while my father was able to make some modifications to the building by adding security cameras in the hallway, there wasn’t much more he could do. My own alarm system should have done the trick. The failure in that is what needs to be investigated.

Not ready to go out in public, Coley and I stay in. Teri and Pryana bring a few of Coley’s things from her dorm, as well as lunch that I’d ordered from Dig Inn. I’m addicted, and I’m making an addict out of my girlfriend, too. It’s all locally-sourced and relatively healthy, so I don’t figure it’s a problem.

“Has anyone at Carman Hall seen the video?” Coley asks her roommate. Teri’s expression says it all. That
everyone
has seen it. “I can’t go back there.”

“Everyone thinks…
y’all
released it,” she admits.

“What?” I ask, halting my task of setting the table. “Shit, are you kidding?” Teri shakes her head. “I don’t want anyone thinking that.”

“Trey, you have over eight-hundred-thousand Twitter followers. Why don’t you say something about it?”

“Because I use that for my blog. I use it to share useful information and to raise awareness about issues in our community.”

“But you have a captive audience,” Pryana says. “Have you checked Twitter today?”

“Hell, no,” I say with a laugh.

“Well. You’re the top trending topic. You even have a hashtag.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Hashtag TreyGoesDown,” she announces anyway. Coley covers her face.

“Well if
that
isn’t a dickish hashtag… makes you wonder who came up with that? Evan Midland himself?”

“That sooooooo sucks snow cones, Trey!” she says loudly into her hands.

“No, laureate, it sucks
ass
. Period. There’s nothing cute or sweet about this one.” She drops her arms and looks at me sympathetically.

“I know,” she says, frowning as she puts her arms around me.

“Did you just call her laureate?” Pryana asks. I nod. “Okay, but
that’s
adorable. Anyway, Trey, as your media mentor, I highly recommend you tweet something.” She knows she’s going beyond her typical mentorship realm.

“You’re not my
social
media mentor,” I correct her.

“But do you have one of those?”

“No.”

“I did it for
The Wit
when I was a sophomore. I have some experience here.”

I look down at Coley. “I don’t want people to think we filmed and released that,” she says. “But I only have seventeen-hundred-eighty-three followers.”

“All right,” I concede. “Let me and Coley get something to eat… we’ll work on a statement and I’ll let you review it… probably after my lawyer does.”

“Let me see it first,” she urges me. “I’ll edit it and make sure it’s lawyer-ready.”

“Deal. Thanks, ladies.” I hand them a hundred-dollar bill. “Cab fair, plus your lunch is on me. We really appreciate this.”

Teri snatches the money from me. “Not arguing. Let’s go, Pree.”

“Thanks, Trey.”

“You’re welcome. Thank
you
.”

Over lunch, I ask her about her mom and dad. “Do you… think they’ll
ever
like me?”

“Of course they will.”

“Do they understand that will require them talking to me at some point?”

“Be patient. They’re out with your parents right now. They’re going to see how nice they are–which, my God, Trey, they’re both so warm and open. Clearly you communicate with your mom and dad differently than I do with mine, anyway, but… don’t lose hope.”

“It would have been nice if they could have acknowledged that they knew this wasn’t my fault. That’s all. They’re stuck on the one fact that I didn’t close the damn blinds.”

“Do you regret not closing them?” she asks me, hesitant.

“In hindsight, sure, based on what happened. I would much rather not have the world seeing you naked and vulnerable like that. But would it have ever occurred to me to close them? No. I got this apartment because I love the view and because of the fact that there’s no way in hell anyone can see in. Do you know how often I walk around naked in here?” I ask her rhetorically. “Where are those videos?”

“That photographer didn’t care about the absolute perfect specimen of cock that God gave you,” she says. “He just wanted to know where you were putting it.”

“Well, he didn’t quite get to see that. Every time you say cock, though, Coley…”

“I should stop, then. I’m a little nervous about doing things in here, all things considered.”

“Yeah. I think I want to get the first video taken down before we risk another one being made–although I’m confident there are no more cameras. The investigators seemed much more competent than the cops from this morning. Plus, your dad was overseeing the whole thing. I’m pretty sure he has a lot of experience with stuff like this,” I comment.