NOT ENOUGH SOAP IN THE WORLD
Lacey
His arms around me didn’t bother me; I’d pulled him to me in the first place. And in the moment, I couldn’t think of a single person I would rather have hold me. Something about him screamed safety. I didn’t know what it was, but he made me feel like I would be fine, and everything would get taken care of, and nothing was a worry. I realized that in spite of his epic failure of a performance through the Test Dummy, I trusted him.
The night was a blur.
I hoped I got the recording of Miguel. That would tell me what the hell happened.
Jordan slept soundly, holding me tighter than anyone ever had. I turned, staring at him, still wearing a sweater and his boxers and sleeping over the covers with no blankets.
He might have been a lot of things, but he wasn’t a scumbag. He wouldn’t drug a girl or leave her in a sticky situation. Even me, the girl who had berated him savagely in front of other people. The girl who had ruined his fake relationship. I wondered whether, if he knew that, he would still have taken care of me.
Slipping from the bed, I grabbed my purse and dress from the floor and tiptoed into the bathroom. I closed the door and pulled the pin off my dress, attaching it with the cord to my cell phone, ignoring the million texts from Marcia. It was five a.m.; she wouldn’t want to be disturbed now.
I loaded the video into the phone and pressed “Play,” lowering the volume so I could just hear it.
The image shook, like I was fidgeting with the camera as Miguel sauntered up to me.
“That was a hot set,” I said. My voice sounded funny on the recording. The music in the background was loud, but I could still hear us. Barely.
“What are you drinking?” he asked.
“Shots.”
“What kind of shot do you want?”
“Tequila.”
“Two shots of Patrón,” he shouted as he leaned over the bar.
My stomach hurt as I watched the part where he pulled a small bottle from his sleeve; it was tiny, like an eye drops bottle. As he reached forward to grab the shots, he squeezed liquid into one of the drinks. He handed me that one as the bottle slipped back up into his sleeve. He was like a magician with that skill.
“To new friends.” He lifted the glass; the look in his eyes was evil, pure evil.
I shuddered as I contemplated how many girls he’d done that to.
Him and his friends.
Jesus.
I stared at my phone, a bit lost on what to do. Did I call the police?
Did I send it to Kami?
What the hell was my plan?
My hands were shaking and my entire body ached, but I believed at the very least Kami needed to see what the hell was going on behind her back. What kind of person she was dating.
Not in a million years would I have imagined he would be like that. He didn’t even need to be. He was young, gorgeous, rich, connected, a DJ, and dating one of the most beautiful girls on the East Coast, who was even richer and more connected.
But for him, rape was clearly not about getting laid.
I contemplated how wrong that could have gone.
How bad it might have been.
Where it would have led if not for the guy in the other room.
He, Jordan fucking Somersby, had saved me.
He’d paid attention, and he’d rushed me from the club to a hotel, where he’d had a doctor care for me. He’d spared my reputation and my virtue, so he’d saved me in more ways than one.
I didn’t know how to process that. He saved my life the same day I ruined his fake relationship, and possibly his relationship with his asshat father.
Neither thing he would likely thank me for.
That was no good.
How could I continue to be cruel to him or treat him badly?
I couldn’t, not without telling him I was the Test Dummy and I knew what he’d done. Which I couldn’t do either.
It was a conundrum.
Deciding to be nice to him and give him the one thing I’d never imagined I would, a second chance, I stripped off the T-shirt I was wearing, threw it in the garbage, and pulled off my underwear, also wanting to burn those. Everything was wet and soaked in sweat.
I looked long and hard at myself in the mirror, really taking stock in the moment, before I turned and climbed into the shower, desperate to smell like L’Occitane and not Miguel’s saliva.
My shower lasted longer than any shower I’d ever taken before. I sat on the bench as the hot water rained down on me, washing me clean of every possibility I forced myself to contemplate.
But no matter how much I wanted to chicken out, I told myself that this close call would save lives. If I sent it to Kami, she would see that video, lose her mind, and out him for the pervert he was, and girls everywhere would know what he’d done. I would leak it to TMZ if I had to. I would definitely leak it to the police, anonymously.
There was no way he was ever going to get away with that again.
I got out of the shower and dried off, then forwarded the video to Hennie, needing at least one person to know what had happened.
I sent a text saying I was okay. It was six a.m., but she texted back with multiple raging and shocked emojis before my phone rang.
“What the fuck?” she gasped.
“I know,” I whispered.
“Why are you whispering? Does he have you hostage?”
“No. I avoided the rape train by getting rescued by none other than Jordan.”
“Jordan!” she squealed. “Not our Jordan!”
“The very one.” I closed my eyes.
“The one we legit just screwed over and made a fool of for the benefit of his hateful girlfriend?”
“Yeah, that one,” I whispered harshly.
“Oh my God!” She didn’t sound sleepy at all. “Why does God hate you?”
“I don’t know,” I whimpered. “But Jordan rescued me, brought me to the Four Seasons, and got me a doctor, and the doc took a sample of my blood to test for the drugs Miguel used.”
“Did you send Kami the video?” She gulped. I heard it over the phone.
“I want to. She needs to know he’s a rapey piece of shit.”
“Don’t say rapey. It makes rape cutesy. He’s a rapist. And his friends are, too, and this needs to get leaked. Even if Kami says she doesn’t want anyone to see the video, you need to leak it. You have to.”
“Hennie, she isn’t going to say she wants this covered up. Trust me. She’s going to be so upset, but she’ll want the world to see that shit.”
“Oh, Lacey. She’s your friend, so you’re blind. But those girls won’t want anyone to see their dirty laundry. They’ll protect him like little lemmings. You need to make sure he isn’t surrounded by a fortress.”
“I mean, if she wants to protect him, I’ll totally out him myself. I have no intention of letting this go. He drugged me so that he could rape me. I know what happened. And I have video proof of it. Fuck him. And her, if that honestly is how she responds. But I can’t see it. I really can’t.”
“Good. You need to hand this over to the cops. This is serious. I don’t think it should be protected.”
“I agree.” I shivered.
“Okay, but wait, you’re at the Four Seasons in a hotel room with Jordan right now?”
“Yeah, he’s sleeping.” I lowered my voice again, realizing I was nearly shouting.
“Oh, wow. That is a crazy twenty-four hours. What are you going to do? I mean, you can’t be mean to him. He rescued you.”
“I know,” I hissed. “I’ll be nice to him. Or at least nicer than I’ve been up to this point.”
“You better. You just set him up and screwed him over. So, I’m in your bed right now.” She yawned, losing the adrenaline she was obviously rocking before.
“What?”
“Yeah, Martin asked if I wanted to hang, since you were going out to catch a creep and all. And your grandma was psychotic about him being alone. So I came over, and we watched movies ’til late. Grandma might send you some angry texts; we tried to cover for you, but she was all kinds of sassy about you going out again. Grandma’s a real hater of fun.”
“Oh my God. I got drugged and didn’t come home. Jesus. I’m a hot mess. I’m so sorry. Thanks for going over.”
“No, it was great. We marathoned The Hobbit. I had fun. Anyway, I wanted to make sure you knew the status of Grandma’s rage. I’m gonna go make coffee. I’ll text you later.”
“Okay. Thanks again. Bye.” I hung up and stared at the door, wondering what the heck I was going to say to Jordan. Thanks for saving my life? Thanks for being a cheater but not a pervert? Sorry I screwed you over; wish I’d trusted Monty when he claimed you were really a nice guy even though Marcia and I assumed a lot of bad shit about you?
Cringing, I pulled on a robe and tied it tight before I opened the door and peeked into the room. He was still passed out, so I walked to the closet and got an extra blanket. I covered him with it, trying not to stare at his handsome face as he slept. It was creepy to watch someone sleep, and yet, I found myself wanting to. I spent several minutes this way, being weird, before I climbed into the bed to lie down again.
My head hurt.
My feet hurt.
My throat burned like I’d had heartburn while I was sleeping.
My stomach ached.
And for some strange reason, my right eye wouldn’t stop watering.
When my head hit the pillow, my mind started working.
It ran over scenes from the pin and the club and the way I awoke.
It played with dangerous ideas like what if.
What if Jordan and the doctor weren’t just taking care of me, what if they also—no. I wouldn’t entertain that one.
I owed him a debt of gratitude, regardless of how I felt about the way he lived his life. As a human, he’d been pegged correctly by Monty and Marcia: Jordan was a nice man with a good heart. He was kind. And he and Monty being friends made sense. It didn’t make Monty less; it made them equals. Almost. Close to.
The pillow, the soft bed, and the sound of the cute guy who’d saved me and called me Cinderella snoring softly next to me lulled me, and eventually I lost the battle with my mind and passed out again.
This time I didn’t worry about how I would wake up.