Chapter 28 #2
Tamsa and I walk to the front door, and it’s not until she grasps my wrist that I realize I’m shaking. When we reach the loss prevention desk, Eric tugs me into a hug and doesn’t let go for a long time, and when I pull away from him, there are splotches of tears on his jersey.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I swipe at a damp spot.
“I’ll close your department,” he says.
I laugh, quiet and watery. “Please don’t.”
La Cuchara is quiet. Tamsa and I sit at a high top in the back corner of the bar, away from the TVs and the other customers.
When Lisa notices us, I hold up two fingers—two house margaritas on the rocks—and she nods. While we wait for our drinks, I scan the article in Squall. The pit monster growls and squirms and spits, and I’m not sure that I’ll be able to drink that margarita, after all.
The details are disheartening. The article mentions several women who have come forward, none of them named, then shifts to Ryan’s questionable past. One section jumps out at me: That Ryan Bradford has been identified as an alleged sexual predator should come as no surprise to anyone who is familiar with the history of the Bradford family, including his uncle Richard Bradford, owner and editor-in-chief of TC Weekly.
The elder Bradford has himself a known history of sexual harassment and discriminatory hiring practices.
Squall has obtained evidence that, as part of a court settlement, Richard Bradford lost the historic downtown Minneapolis building that previously housed TC Weekly and several other businesses.
So that’s why Slick Dick had to move out to the suburbs. But I’ve read enough. I close the paper.
Lisa sets down our drinks, along with salsa and a basket of chips. “Flag me down when you’re ready for food.”
“Who else?” I ask after Lisa walks away. “Who are the women? Can you say?”
“Off the record?” she asks. I nod. You can take the reporter out of the newsroom, but you can’t take the newsroom out of the reporter. “Me, Carina, Gen, Sasheen, and one of Ryan’s new hires, Laura. Kim’s going after them for age discrimination and forced retirement.”
I blow out a breath. “What happened? With you. Tell me everything.”
Tamsa’s story is similar to mine. Not long after Kim retired and Ryan took over, he called Tam into his office to review classifieds revenue.
What he really wanted to review, it turned out, was her sexual history.
When he grabbed her breast and tried to kiss her, she bit his bottom lip—hard—and drew blood.
Then she kneed him in the groin and ran out, yelling what had happened as she sped through the building.
She gathered her things, walked out, and called her brother, an attorney.
“I honestly thought you only knew something,” she says. “Like, you found something out that day, and that’s why you quit. I had no idea that he’d threatened you like that.”
“I’m sorry.” I’ve been so wrapped up in my problems at Hometown, but they seem so small and inconsequential compared to this. “I should have told you.”
“Did he—did he touch you?” she asks. “I mean, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.” I grimace and that’s answer enough for her. “He did. That fucking creep.”
“I should have said something. I don’t know why I didn’t.”
“I know why,” Tam says. “You were scared. I get it. I was scared, too. But I have trouble not saying what’s in my head, and I blurted it out. Loudly.”
“Are you okay? What happened to you—it was much worse than—”
“Nope.” She cuts me off. “What happened to me was different, but you can’t say that it was worse.”
“Are you okay?”
She shrugs. “Most days, I am. Some days, I’m less okay. I’m in therapy, and I’ve got an interview at Sky Blue Waters Monthly next week.”
“That’s great, Tam.” Sky Blue Waters is the Twin Cities’ premier lifestyle magazine. Every journalist secretly harbors a dream to work there. Tamsa deserves to be someplace amazing like that.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “Have you, you know, processed what happened?”
I huff out a laugh. “I’ve processed it, sure, but I don’t think my way of dealing with it is particularly healthy. I should probably see someone, too.”
“Was it true what you said? About a check for twelve grand?”
“Barbara cut me two checks that day. My last paycheck and what she called a severance benefit.”
She stares at me for a long moment before she says, “Mine was for fifteen.”
I nearly choke on the chip I’ve just taken a bite of.
“I didn’t cash mine, either, although I’ve been so tempted to as a fuck you to Ryan and Slick Dick. You said yours is in your car?”
I blow out a breath. “Stupid, I know.”
“Mine’s in a secret compartment in my childhood jewelry box. You know, the cardboard ones with the ballerinas?”
I laugh. “Just like in Silence of the Lambs.”
“Really original, I know.” She smiles for the first time tonight. “I came to the store tonight because I wanted to ask for a statement. Like if you knew something, your statement could help us. But now, I think that you should talk to my brother about the lawsuit.”
That hot rush of shame, embarrassment, and anger flows through me again.
I don’t know if I want to relive this. But then I think about Carina and Tamsa and the other women who’ve spoken out against Ryan.
And I think about my first night as a Hometown employee at Ground Round with John and his condescending attitude, and Tyrell, who thought it was okay to speak to me the way he did.
None of this is okay, and I’ve been silent about it for too long.
“Count me in.”