42. Silas
42
SILAS
D enial is the best way to describe the confused, zombie-like state I enter after I leave Graham. That night, in a numb daze, I make it to a hotel called The Chelsean, not to be mistaken with The Chelsea Hotel, which I’m not willing to pay for. It’s only a block away from the apartment. I was too sick to my stomach to make it any farther.
I don’t sleep at all the first night, no matter how hard I try to shut it all off—all the feelings, all the uncertainty. This feels like a mistake. He’s just scared. He’ll come around. He needs me. He loves me. He won’t make it a week without me. I just have to be patient.
My thoughts then move to his father. His cold politeness, his absolute control. I took his card off the table before I left, not sure what I might use it for, but wanting to have the link to Graham if I need it—if he goes the extra mile and ices me out entirely for a while.
Drinks with Christian the following evening prove everything Graham and his father told me are true. But there’s more to it, it turns out. Both of them mentioned I was being watched, but no one said anything about a fucking sex tape, which only could have been filmed in the apartment because we haven’t had sex anywhere else since that time on Capitol Hill. Graham said there was a video, but I thought it was just the two of us together—like—looking intimate or something—not fucking .
Christian says there’s a video of us fucking. No wonder Graham freaked out. Not gonna lie—I don’t like the idea of that being out in the world, either.
Taking time apart makes a lot more sense now, but his adamance stands in stark contradiction to the way he kisses me like he can’t breathe without me. The way he clings to me in bed. But the existence of a video like that explains that line he gave me I thought was bullshit—that he’s trying to protect me, too. I shudder to think what would happen if a video of me fucking a married U.S. senator came out. If the idea of being followed is uncomfortable—being publicly harassed for comment sounds like my worst nightmare.
Hearing that Christian is getting physically involved with his boss—the real estate billionaire Gibson Hayes—was almost as shocking as the fact that Gibson has a sex tape of me. I knew Chris was bi, but I’ve only ever seen him with women. He seemed smitten, though, and I played the part of the good friend while we were out, but it felt robotic.
I fucking hate Gibson Hayes, but I especially hate his vicious cunt of a wife. More now than ever.
I’m not sure what the hell to think about Avery. I’ve always liked her. She’s changed since the miscarriage, understandably, but she’s never been anything but kind to me. She’s sweet, and she’s worked so hard to fit into the Upper East Side. I guess someone like her makes an easy mark for a woman like Marianne.
What’s her angle, though? Christian doesn’t seem to know, but he confirms she’s the one holding all the leverage and Gibson’s only doing her bidding. Or at least that’s what Gibson wants Chris to think. I honestly don’t trust any of them .
I text Graham when I get home from the night with Christian.
Me
I know what’s on the video. Can we talk about this?
Graham
Who told you?
Me
Chris
Graham
Then you understand.
I leave that on read for a long time. The entire night. I roll the words through my head and what I think he means by them as I spend another mostly sleepless night in the hotel. But in the morning, when I’m still alone, and he’s under suicide watch apparently, I fucking don’t understand.
He’s finally got an out. He doesn’t have to lie or hide anymore. Why won’t he take it? Take me ? The fact that he’s choosing a senate seat over me is devastating. Ben and I had a good relationship while it lasted. Normal and comfortable. But what Graham and I have is special . It feels like a once in a lifetime love. The kind I thought could withstand anything thrown at it. Even time. Even distance if that’s what it takes to get through this shitstorm.
And maybe he’s offering me that? But I’m beginning to question everything we said before I left. Was I just hearing what I wanted to hear? Because, I mean—what’s the plan? He finds another woman? Gets married again? Breeds a family? He wants that more than he wants me ?
I can’t believe it. It’s gotta be bullshit.
No. He’s gonna finish out his senate term—so—three years—and then we’ll be fine. He’ll come back to me.
And I wait ?
No…that’s too long.
I text him the next morning.
Me
I’ll never understand. I know you. You won’t be able to stay away.
It takes two full days without a response for me to get it through my head that he might actually go through with this. When another few days pass with similar results, I pack up my shit at the hotel and make the trek to Queens. It no longer feels like home, but nowhere does. Not without him.
The commute is a pain in the ass for all my jobs, but it’s worth it not to live alone. To wait Graham out and distract myself with the tasks of keeping my mom comfortable, giving Trixie a hand around the house and forcing her to listen to me—one of the only people on earth who knows me inside and out.
She needs the distraction, too. My mom isn’t doing well. She’s sleeping a lot, and when she’s awake, she’s often so short of breath it feels like she could drop dead any second.
I can’t stay here forever, but staying for the summer feels like the right thing to do. Over the next several weeks without a word from Graham, I make my life as small as it was when I was living in Chelsea. I don’t go out unless I’m working. I don’t watch TV or read the news. I focus on putting one foot in front of the other and getting through the days.
I keep an eye out for apartments in Manhattan, but I’m not actively looking for anything. I’m in limbo. Part of me is still waiting for a response to my text. The other part of me is beginning to understand it’s never going to come.
I can’t believe I let myself believe this time would be different.
The night the sex tape hits the internet, I’m with a client at the Waldorf-Astoria. My limp dick flops back and forth as he takes my ass, powered by lust and Cialis. I work my muscles like I always do to make sure I’m a good ride and worth a stellar review, but the only time I get hard during any of these encounters anymore is when my dick is getting sucked. Those are the only times I can close my eyes and picture the senator from New York on his knees.
It takes more work and focus than I’ve ever had to put into this side hustle, but at least I feel like I’m earning my outrageous fee.
Most of the dudes give up sucking and start fucking me before I get anywhere close to coming, though, and that’s a depressing truth about men who pay by the hour.
I don’t check my phone until I’m walking through the lobby on my way out, planning to take a rideshare home to Queens.
Christian has called and texted, but there are far more calls and texts from Drew. One comes up as I’m sliding into the compact SUV and confirming my destination with the driver.
Drew
Please fucking call me, Sy.
I put a call through.
“Silas?” he barks when he picks up.
“Yeah?”
“Do you not know?”
I sigh. “You’re blowing up my phone after midnight. Did you get arrested or something?”
“There’s a video of you.”
I tense before a rolling wave of nausea forces me to slump forward. It’s been what—weeks? Months now? It’s not that I forgot. It’s just that I don’t think about the video every day anymore. “Where?”
“Everywhere. The news, the internet. Looks like it came out just before midnight. I haven’t found anything where your name is mentioned, but I guess I figured you’d have seen it.”
“I’ve been busy,” I manage to say, my brain buzzing with pure noise. No coherent thoughts.
“Where are you?”
“On my way home?”
“Where are you staying? I can come over.”
“Queens, and no. I’m staying with my mom. You can’t come there.”
“Why not?”
Because it’s private , I want to snap, but don’t.
“I’m fine,” I say instead. “If it’s out, it’s out. If they figure out it’s me—what the fuck am I gonna do about it?”
He sighs. “I know you probably don’t give a shit, but Chris is really upset about this. I’m not sure what happened. Gibson showed up and they left together, so I don’t really know what’s going on, but I wanted you to know I’ve got your back. We all do.”
I close my eyes and wish those words didn’t make me feel so fucking dead inside. All I can think about is Graham. Is he okay?
What did he not do that he was supposed to do? Why the fuck is this happening now? Is someone checking on him?
I force myself to be gracious as I dodge the debris of my life falling apart all around me. “I appreciate that, Drew. I’ll call you.”
I hang up before he can say anything else, all my bandwidth coming to an abrupt end.
Leaning back in the seat, I stare out the window as the car drives along the East River. I watch the black water dappled with city lights as the numbness settles in like an old friend moving in to take over my life until it becomes bearable again.
Am I prepared for what’s coming?
I don’t see how I can be.
I don’t know how Graham can be. With nerves ransacking my gut, I google him on my phone from the back of the car .
The video is everywhere. I see a grainy image frozen in a dozen thumbnails. That beauty mark on his cheek. His red lips parted with effort, eyes closed—euphoric. A social media post is front and center—one that’s been screenshot and written about by a major news outlet. That’s what I finally click on.
@SenatorGLawtherNY
Disgraceful. The left seems to have no low to which they won’t stoop. This deep fake video is a clear attempt to smear my name and advance a radical social agenda. The use of AI to create fraudulent videos perverts the intention of a technological breakthrough meant to improve efficiency, gather FACTS, and level the economic playing field.
The party who created this FAKE will be identified and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
I can handle a lot. I pride myself on being able to operate well under pressure, to bench more than I should be able to, to juggle three jobs, to rise to the occasion when someone needs something I can provide no matter what I have to do.
But his categorical denial is shocking. A slap in the face I never could have seen coming. It’s more than enough to cast doubt on whether he’s the one in the video. Whether it will work? I don’t know, but AI gets better every day, and it’s not like I’ve never seen a good fake before. But that was me . This was us.
This video was a one-way ticket back to me, and he’s using it to shove himself deeper into the closet and deny we ever existed.
Devastated doesn’t even begin to describe it.
I will never fucking forgive him for this.