Chapter 28
Laine
Groggily, I lift my head from the pillow, blinking in the faint morning light. I glance at the alarm clock, its red digits declaring it to be 4:37 a.m. I hesitate for a moment, not fully understanding why my sleep has been interrupted. I grab my phone to, if nothing else, to shut it up. I squint to make out the name displayed on the screen. It’s Trish.
Dread courses through my body. People only call at this hour if it’s an emergency. “Trish? What’s going on?”
“Laine, are you okay?” Her voice is urgent and tight.
My stomach drops. I can tell immediately that something is very wrong. “I’m fine. What’s wrong?”
Trish takes a deep breath before responding. “I...I just got an email. Someone sent it to me, and it... it has some photos and a video. Of you.”
My blood runs cold. “What do you mean, photos and a video?”
“I don’t even know what it is, but it has you in some kind of lingerie and…” Her voice drops to a whisper. “It’s a sex video.”
My heart pounds, and my mind races. “What? I’ve never made anything of the sort. Who sent it?”
“It says it came from you,” Trish says. “You admit to being a liar and a cheat, and it says I should know who I’m spending time with.”
Suddenly, the full weight of the situation hits me like a ton of bricks. My heart speeds as my mind races to catch up. Where did this come from? I’ve never made any sex videos. Did Jack make one and I didn’t know about it? And who sent it from my email account? That certainly wasn’t me.
“Can you forward it to me?” I ask.
“Yes, and I’m calling my lawyer once the sun is up,” she adds. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
“Okay.” I disconnect the call without even really saying goodbye. I feel a little sick.
Jack stirs and rolls over, half-awake and confused. “Why are you on the phone at this ungodly hour?”
I fill him in on the situation. “Have you ever taken video that I wasn’t aware of?” I ask.
He’s suddenly very alert as his face grows pale in horror. “Absolutely not! I can’t believe you would even ask me that.”
I shut my eyes and try to slow my ragged breathing. I don’t know what to think. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand this. I’ve never videoed anything, and I’ve only sent you a few sexy photos. That was back in the day. Not recently.”
“Oh, Laine.” Jack takes my hand. “We’re going to figure this out, okay? Where is the video?”
I pick up my phone and click on the email from Trish. We huddle together to see. Jack and I then watch the first forty-five seconds of a twenty-four-minute video of me, clad in a lacy black lingerie set, performing explicit acts with a man who is not Jack. The blood drains from my face. I can feel Jack’s eyes on me, but I can’t bear to look at him.
“I swear to God, I didn’t do this,” I say, my voice shaking as I fast-forward. “This isn’t me. I would never.”
“Who’s the guy?”
I turn to him, tears streaming down my face. “I don’t know.”
There’s a loud crescendo, and then the guy goes out of his way to ejaculate all over my chest.
Jack gets out of bed and runs his hands through his hair. He opens his phone.
“Shit. It was sent to me.”
“What?”
He clicks a few buttons. “It says, ‘This is what your girlfriend does while you’re busy saving that boy’s life.’”
“Jack, you know that isn’t true. You know me. We’re working to rebuild our trust. Why would I do this?” He doesn’t seem convinced, and I feel a little panicked. If he doesn’t believe me, why will anyone else? “You and I are together most of the time anyway. It’s not even possible. I don’t make secret phone calls or do anything I’m hiding from you.”
“We’re not together every night,” he reminds me, his voice laced in doubt.
I close my eyes, feeling my world fall apart again. This will ruin everything. I could lose my job. Why is this happening?
Jack plays the video, and he fast-forwards to the climax. I hear it once and then again as the tears stream down my face. “I don’t know how this could have happened,” I sob. “I swear this isn’t me.”
Finally, he puts the phone down. “I know it isn’t you.” He pulls me close and wraps his arms around me.
My heart beats wildly. “You do?” I’m not sure I can believe him.
He nods and lifts my chin. “Those are not the noises you make when you climax.”
I blanch, and my mouth drops open.
“And I believe you because I know you tell me the truth. I do know what kind of person you are, Laine. I’m so sorry about this.”
“What are we going to do? I’m sure others have received this, not just Trish and you.” In the pit of my stomach, I know I’m not that lucky.
Jack gets up to pace. “I’m going to text my friends and ask.”
I nod. I know we need to get in front of this, but then my eyes go wide. “How embarrassing is it going to be to tell them how we know it isn’t me?” I drop my head into my hands.
Jack sends out a text message. Immediately, his phone begins to ping in response. He reads the messages aloud to me as they come in.
Davis: We knew it was a fake. Let us know what you need from us. We’re behind you.
Steve: Man, that sucks. Both Eliza and I got the email. We didn’t watch it, figuring it could be some kind of trojan horse. Let us know what we can do to help.
Michael: Fuck! That sucks that this is happening to Laine. We’re sending all our support.
Davis: I think my mom got it too.
I look up at Jack. “Oh God! I’m never going to be able to go anywhere in public.”
Steve: My parents did too.
Michael: Mine are in London visiting family, so I don’t know.
Nadine: His parents got it and deleted it right away. They knew it was a frame job.
I shake my head. “Do I need to reach out to everyone in my email directory?” My hand flies to my mouth. “What about Frank King?” How could I explain this to my new boss?
Jack looks out the window at the dark streets below. “We should, but we don’t need to do that now.” He stares down at the group text thread. “My dad probably got this too. Just another thing he can use, but I don’t care.”
“How do we get this to stop?”
“That’s what we’re going to figure out.” He smiles at me, but I can’t quite bring myself to return it. “Can you call Trish and ask if we could assemble at her house this morning? We should get organized and take action as soon as we can.”
“I can do that.” My voice works, but then I can’t move. I’m numb at the thought of managing all of this.
Jack has to pull me from the bed and hand me clothes.
I have one leg in my yoga pants when it hits me. “Oh my God.”
Jack comes running out of the bathroom.
“This is going to blow up everything I’ve ever worked for. Who have I pissed off so much that they’d do this?”
He shakes his head. “I honestly don’t know.” He pulls a T-shirt over his head and puts on sweatpants.
I feel sick all over again. Once I get my pants on, I force myself to focus enough to call Trish.
“Hey!” she says. “Phillip got it, as did his parents and all their friends.”
My heart sinks. “It’s not me, and Jack agrees.”
“Yeah, I confirmed that when I watched it after we talked.”
“You did? How?”
“Probably the same way Jack did. Your boobs are bigger, and you don’t have a weird mole on your shoulder.”
I gasp. “We didn’t notice that.”
I relay this to Jack, and he quickly reviews the video. “Those are definitely not your tits. And Trish is right, you don’t have any moles on your shoulder.”
“Thanks for noticing that,” I tell her. “Is it okay if we come over to get organized on how to attack this? Jack wants to invite everyone we know who got it.”
“Yup. That’s no problem. I’ll wake Ginny and let her know to be ready.”
It’s still only six o’clock. “Don’t wake her. Monday is Ginny’s one day off from being your housekeeper. We can get a big carafe of coffee from Steaming Mugs and have someone stop by Tim Hortons.”
“Okay. We’ll see you when you get here.”
“Thanks.” I hang up and try to steel myself for a fight I never saw coming. “We’re good,” I tell Jack. “Trish will be ready for us.”
“Okay, the group is going to meet us over there. Davis has already called the Steaming Mugs in his neighborhood and ordered a big coffee box. They’ll stop on their way to pick it up.”
“Then we should stop at Timmy’s.”
“Michael and Nadine will stop at the Tim Horton’s in their neighborhood.”
“Fruit?”
“Steve and Eliza have that.”
“Okay, what can we bring?”
“You. These are your friends, and they want to support you.”
I nod. This is a humiliating disaster, but I’m grateful to have friends by my side. And I’m so grateful for Jack. His support means everything. I reach out, and he wraps me in his arms once again.
Less than half an hour later, I’m standing in the center of Trish’s kitchen, feeling the warmth of my friends surrounding me like a protective blanket. Though I feel vulnerable and scared, their presence gives me strength.
Davis pours me a cup of coffee. “Sugar and cream?”
“Yes, please,” I say.
Paisley drapes her arm over my shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
Their faces are creased with worry, but their eyes are resolute and determined.
“The lawyer is on his way over,” Trish announces. “And Ginny is making eggs for anyone who’s interested.” Her mouth is set in a tight line, her eyes blazing with rage. Beside her is Phillip, his expression unreadable. But his hand resting on her shoulder is an unmistakable show of solidarity.
I look around the room—Michael and Nadine, Steve and Eliza. I’m amazed at how quickly they’ve all rallied to my side on this crazy Monday morning.
“We need to come up with a plan,” Davis says, his voice deep and firm. “Whoever is responsible for this needs to be held accountable. What can we do to ensure that Laine is safe and protected going forward?”
Trish speaks first. “I think our first step should be to identify and confront the source of the video. We need to find out who sent it and why. Maybe then we can figure out how to protect Laine going forward.”
Michael shakes his head. “That’s easier said than done.” Usually the clown in the group, he’s so serious right now. “They used a clone of Laine’s email, so replying to the message only goes to her.”
We brainstorm ideas.
“We should file a police report,” Michael suggests.
“Are deep fakes illegal?” Steve asks.
The doorbell rings.
“That must be my lawyer,” Trish announces.
She disappears and returns with an older gentleman wearing designer jeans and a casual shirt. Trish introduces him as Benson Thomas.
“Please call me Benson,” he says as he shakes my hand.
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
“I’m sorry to say this, but I’d like to view the video,” he tells me.
“I can play it on my television.” Trish offers.
A wave of nausea washes over me, and it must be evident on my face. Jack takes my hand.
“Why don’t we leave the video viewing to Benson, Laine, and Jack?” Paisley suggests.
“I’m sticking around too,” Trish says. “But the rest of you can start breakfast and think about who would have all of our email addresses—including your parents’—and why someone might do this.”
“If they cloned my email address, could they have sent it to every one of my contacts?” My tears are falling again.
Everyone looks at me with pity. No one seems to know. I want to vomit.
Jack, Benson, and I step into the living room, and Trish points us to a large computer screen. In moments, she pulls up her email and starts the video.
I look down at my lap while the entire twenty-four-minute video plays. When it’s over, Trish scrolls to the photos, which I’d ignored until now. I’m mortified to see they’re more graphic images of “me” doing unspeakable things.
“Some of these aren’t even good fakes,” Trish says with disgust.
“How do you know this is a fake?” Benson asks.
My heart sinks, and I can’t believe we’re about to say these things out loud.
Trish points out how the shadows on my face don’t match the lighting in the room in some of the photos, and again, the mysterious shoulder mole is there.
“And what do you think?” he turns to Jack. “You’re the boyfriend, yes?”
Jack nods. “It’s not her,” he says firmly.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Those aren’t her breasts. She has no mole on her shoulder, and those are not the sounds Laine makes,” he explains calmly.
“She could be faking it for them—or for you,” Benson counters.
Jack smirks. “The one time she faked it with me, I knew immediately—and even then, she didn’t make those sounds. That is not her.”
I feel heat flush through my cheeks, but I’m grateful for his faith.
Benson seems deep in thought for a moment. “Do you have any idea who could be behind this?”
I shake my head. “None.”
“What about any of the people out there?”
“No,” I gasp.
“I agree,” Jack says. “Laine and I broke up about six months ago and just recently got back together. Through that entire ordeal, those people out there were all very clear that they thought I was in the wrong. They’d take Laine over me any day.”
“Absolutely,” Trish says.
“Okay, then let’s get everyone together and figure out a plan,” Benson says. “We’re going to need to call the police.”
We rejoin everyone in the kitchen. The smell of the bacon makes my mouth water, though I’m not sure it’s wise for me to eat it right now.
“How are the eggs?” Jack asks.
“Fantastic,” Phillip says. “Ginny also made croissants.”
I pick at a plate of food while the others eat, and eventually, Benson Thomas returns from the other room and clears his throat.
“I’ve spoken with the Vancouver Police, and they’re willing to investigate this matter. However, we need to gather as much evidence as possible,” he reports.
“What kind of evidence?” Jack asks.
“Anything that might help us track down the person who sent these emails. Do you have any ideas at all, Laine? Anyone who might have a vendetta against you?”
I shake my head again. “I can’t think of anyone.”
“We’ll start by investigating the email address this was sent from,” Benson says. “And I’ll need everyone else’s email address as well. I have a good white-hat hacker who can help us out.”
Panic rises again. The thought of my friends being put through this crap makes me feel awful. “What if we can’t find any evidence?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“We know they cloned your email, but we’re hoping to get the IP address, so we have a place to start.”
“What does that do?” Trish asks. “If you already know it was sent from her account, why does the IP address matter?”
“The IP address will tell us exactly where the email was sent from. It’s almost like a longitude and latitude,” Benson explains. “It’s possible they may have cloned their location or used a foreign location. But it’s worth a try. We need to do everything we can to find the person responsible.”
The discussion devolves into brainstorming people who might be upset with me—people I’ve written stories about, a few crazy people Trish and I have known over the years. But in my heart, I know none of them will be the person behind this. It’s someone else. I just can’t figure out who.
As we wrap things up, Trish brings me into a tight hug. “You’re not alone. We’re going to get through this together. I promise.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“We got you, Laine,” Phillip adds.
The others join in, each one reaffirming their commitment to help me. I still feel a little sick, but this could be so much worse. With the support of these wonderful people, I can weather any storm.